“Yes. He told me what a wonderful man he was.”
“He was wonderful.” Her smile was sad, and she lifted her eyes to the sky. “When we first got the news about Ben, I told myself I was staying to help his parents and to help Jethro. I wanted to be there—here—in case they needed me. But it’s been five years. Five years of hiding away, in this pretty house, with its pretty garden, watching the world go by.” Her gaze dropped to mine and she added in a cheerful tone, “Even the McClures are trying to get me moving. In fact, Carter McClure—Ben’s daddy—was the one to put my name on the short list for this position.”
We shared a smile. Silence stretched. Seconds turned to minutes. Claire’s eyes turned unfocused and introspective, and she frowned.
“I ran into somebody on Tuesday. Someone I used to know.”
I wanted to ask her who it was, but her voice was distracted, as though she spoke without consciously meaning to do so. I waited for her to continue.
“We had ugly words.” She shook her head, clearly trying to dispel the memory. “I left him and I felt . . . lost and upset. And then Jethro called, sounding so happy, asking if he could bring you to dinner. Both things happening on the same day felt like a sign. I always told myself I would leave when Jethro was settled, when the McClures were in a good place.”
“How do you think Jethro will take the news?” I honestly wanted to know, because I worried for my guy.
“Jet? Oh, he’ll be fine. No doubt. He just wants me to be happy.” She wrinkled her nose at my concern, like I was silly. “I think you two should move into the house after I leave, if I may be so bold. You’ll have no privacy at the Winston place with those boys, and Jethro has done so many upgrades here, this place feels more like his than mine.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the pretty house and spotted Jethro, just stepping out of the French doors.
“When an opportunity presents itself, and you have a choice of either living life—risky as it might be—or continuing to do what’s expected . . .” Claire paused, waiting for me to meet her gaze, a knowing smile curving her lips.
She was quoting me, one of my favorite lines from my first film, Taco Tuesday.
I returned her grin and finished the quote, “You have to grab that regal centaur by the mane and ride it over the rainbow of opportunity.”
We finished together, “Or else it might mistake you for a unicorn and try to impregnate you.”
“I love that movie.” She grinned, shaking her head. “I always thought, like a wackadoodle, that you and I would be best friends one day.”
“Ah, I see. You’ve set this whole thing in motion—between Jethro and me—just so we could meet and be best friends.”
She shrugged, then giggled. “You make me sound like Cletus.”
That made us both laugh again. I watched her, feeling humbled and oddly light, because this woman loved my films and wanted to be my friend. And Claire McClure was clearly one of those rare souls who was more concerned with the beauty of her heart than she was with the beauty of her face. I decided I loved her. It was friend-love-at-first-sight. I would be sad to see her move away.
I also decided, if things didn’t work out with Jethro, I would ask her to marry me and request she make goat cheese bruschetta every Sunday.
CHAPTER 26
“In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark woods where the straight way was lost.”
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno
~Sienna~
Ten days after the doughnut dalliance, and four days after dinner with Claire, I called my mother.
I called her after a date with Jethro.
Technically it had been our fourth date, if you counted the disaster at The Front Porch over a month ago as our first date, and my introduction to Daisy’s doughnuts as our second date. Our third date had been a middle-of-the-night movie date in Knoxville.
Tonight, our fourth date, had consisted of a dinner picnic and dancing on the prairie. Afterward, he’d dropped me off at the cabin, giving me a toe-curling, spine-tingling kiss. He left me, alone to my bed and wishful thoughts for the remainder of the night.
I didn’t count dinner with his family or Claire as a date. I’d given the matter a lot of thought, defining what was a date and what wasn’t. Because, by now, I figured we should be ending the night at the very least necking and making out in his truck.
But that wasn’t happening.
So I called my mother.
“Sienna, mija, you’re calling. What happened? Are you okay?” She sounded concerned. We had a scheduled call every Sunday night when I was filming because my work schedule and her work schedule were so crazy. In between films, I would fly home and spend a few days with her and Dad. We frequently texted during the week, sharing funny thoughts or I love yous or I’m going to strangle your father, but Sunday was our day to talk. We’d missed our last two Sunday calls, which happened from time to time, so I hadn’t told her about Jethro yet.