“Your job, Tara. What did you do before you were let go?”
Had Annie thought a career kept her too busy for friends or family? The truth was she’d had a lot of jobs—waitressing, retail sales, whatever she could find. She’d never gone to college; she’d drifted from one entry level job to another. The best job was her most recent, but you could hardly call working for Wolverine Sign Incorporated a career.
She’d done service banners, truck lettering—all sorts of interior and exterior signs. She had been one of several workers they’d had to let go when the recession hit. Last hired, first fired, she thought. She couldn’t blame them. Besides, she’d called in sick too many times in recent weeks. Tara licked her dry lips, knowing Annie was waiting for an answer to her question. “I worked for a sign company—I did some hand lettering, and I set the machines for styles and designs. Routine work mostly, but I’m pretty good with computers. I don’t have any formal training though.”
Annie lifted the delicate cup to her lips and drank. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
Tara sipped from her own china cup, glad for a pause in the conversation. She was supposed to make friends with the lady of Grey Gables and secure her trust. She knew she was making a bad start, but she had no idea how to proceed. Jem would be furious.
“So you hitchhiked to Stony Point.” It was a statement more than a question, and Annie appeared to mull that idea around in her mind.
A woman looking for work would have stayed in Portland or traveled to Boston or some large city, but she had moved down the coast, and ended up in a small town. Tara knew it was hardly believable. “I guess it wasn’t the best idea, but I just had to get away after mother …” She let the sentence drop, lowering her head.
Annie rose to switch on the electric teakettle. She paused at the window seat to stroke Boots’s silken fur and no doubt to ponder how she might gracefully tell her houseguest it was time to move on. That she hadn’t yet done so surprised Tara. In fact, it amazed her that she, a stranger of no apparent means, had been given shelter in the first place.
In the space of seconds an idea unfolded in Tara’s mind. “I’m—grateful for your kindness, but I have to tell you something. I didn’t just happen to come here. I came on purpose.”
The atmosphere was suddenly charged. Her hostess returned to the table. She sat down and looked at Tara, her expression registering confusion.
“I came to Grey Gables because of a letter I found in my mother’s things. Actually, there were several letters over the last five or six years. They were from Elizabeth Holden of this address.” Tara hurried on, hoping her story was believable. Well, this part was true, at least. “It was obvious that my mother had spent some time in Stony Point and that Mrs. Holden was a friend. I just wanted to find her and thank her for being so kind to my mother. I didn’t say anything last night because … well, you weren’t her. And then you told me she had passed away, and I realized that I wouldn’t be able to thank her.”
Annie’s eyes widened; the light sprinkling of freckles stood out on her nose. She had to be shocked by this revelation and angry at being lied to.
Tara raced on: “I should have told you this right away. I’m sorry I made up the story about my car. I thought if you knew I was a hitchhiker you wouldn’t help me. I was really tired. Lately, I’ve not been feeling very well. I hope you’ll forgive me …” She looked down at her hands, waited for Mrs. Annie Dawson of Grey Gables to politely ask her to leave.
The silence stretched out. It could all be over in an instant. She saw everything falling apart—Jem’s plans, her place in his heart when he learned of her botched efforts. This time he might leave her for good. And something in the back of her mind teased at an even greater loss. Well, she’d lost her self-respect long ago, hadn’t she?
“Tell me about your mother.” The words fell softly between them.
Tara looked up, expecting to see anger—or at least censure—in her hostess’s green gaze. She blinked, breathing deeply to stop the whirling in her head. “Her name was Claire Andrews. She was …”
What could she say of the mother she knew so little about, who had withheld her secrets along with her love? Something like hunger pain churned inside Tara. She toyed with a muffin crumb on her napkin.
“She used to come here when she was a girl. She knew your grandmother. The truth is, we didn’t get along very well when I was growing up.” Tara paused. “I left home when I was sixteen. It was a mistake, I know that now. Funny, how you’re so sure of things and then …” A wave of dizziness swept over her.