“I called to see how you’re settling in.”
“Just fine,” Claire said breezily, deciding not to share her snake adventure just yet. “I’ll be going to school tomorrow to see my new room and do some decorating.”
“Any regrets?” her mother asked hopefully.
“Not yet, but there’s still time.” Claire knew that Arlene wanted her to at least entertain the possibility that she’d be sorry for putting off grad school for a year.
“Well, there’s a reason they can’t keep a teacher at that school.”
“Any idea what it is?” Claire asked innocently.
Arlene did not deign to answer, and Claire decided to change the subject while they were still on polite terms. She sifted through several topics and dismissed them all. Her stepfather, Stephen, was off-limits, since he had moved out of the house, informing Arlene that he would not come back unless she decided being a companion was as important as running her business. Claire wasn’t all that sure that Stephen would ever be coming back.
She couldn’t ask her for career advice—or decorating advice, since she was living in a rundown rented trailer on the edge of a hay field. But she could try cooking, their only common ground.
“Hey, Mom…” A boom of thunder nearly drowned out her words.
“What on earth?”
“Thunderstorm.”
“You shouldn’t be on the phone.”
“It’s a cell phone.” Claire decided not to argue. “You’re right.” She smiled slightly. “Thanks for calling, Mom. I was lonely.”
“Goodbye, Claire. It was good talking to you.”
Claire pushed the end button. It really hadn’t been too bad a conversation. They’d both behaved fairly well. She held the phone in her hand for a moment, then punched in her sister’s number. Regan answered on the first ring.
“I’ve been waiting,” she said.
“Why?” Claire knew why. For about nine-tenths of her life, she’d run every decision past Regan, even if she rarely followed her sister’s advice. It was a habit that had started when they were young, and continued well into college. It wasn’t until Regan had moved away from Las Vegas that Claire realized maybe life wasn’t always a joint venture.
“Because you’ve never lived alone before.”
“Well, I’ve been alone,” Claire said, “and this isn’t all that different.”
“So how are you settling in?”
“Fine, now that Brett got the snake out of the house…”
“The snake?”
“My students hid a snake in my house before I got here. It scared the daylights out of me when I found it, and since I don’t know anything about snakes, I had Brett come and remove it. Then I asked him out for a beer as a thank-you and he told me he doesn’t socialize.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Regan murmured, “Don’t take it personally.”
“That’s what he said,” Claire replied, swinging her legs over the one arm of the chair and leaning back against the other. “And I’m not. I just thought it was odd, which makes me wonder, why are the gorgeous ones always tweaked in some weird way?”
Regan laughed.
“What?”
“Oh, I was just thinking that you could take a long look in the mirror and ask yourself that same question.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” They talked for a few more minutes, making plans to meet when Claire made her next trip to Wesley for supplies.
“Speaking of shopping,” Regan said, “Kylie is planning an Elko trip and she wants to know when you can come. She says your taste is better than mine, which, I have to tell you, worries her father a bit.”
“Tell her to name the day,” Claire said with a laugh. Elko shopping was nothing like Vegas shopping, but it was a heck of a lot better than Barlow Ridge shopping or Wesley shopping. And Kylie, Regan’s stepdaughter, was a girl after Claire’s own heart. A true renegade.
Claire finally hung up and set the phone back on the side table. The thunderstorm had passed without dropping any rain, but the air in the trailer felt fresher, cooler. She got to her feet and headed down the narrow hallway to her bedroom, walking a little faster as she passed the washing machine. Logic told her there were no more snakes lying in wait for her, but her instincts told her to take no chances. She’d yet to have much experience with animals, but when she did, she wanted them to be furry and friendly.
“YOU THE NEW TEACHER?”
Claire smiled at the grouchy-looking woman behind the mercantile counter. “Yes, I am.”
“Gonna stay?”
“One year.” Claire spoke easily, truthfully.
The woman snorted. “That’s the reason the kids are running wild, you know.”
“What is?”
“The fact that none of you will stay.”
“Yes, well, there’s not a lot to do here, is there?”
The woman gave her another sour look, but didn’t argue. It would have been hard to. The community had one store, a bar that served food and a community center that looked as if it was well over a hundred years old. Actually, everything in the town looked a hundred years old. Including the proprietress of the store, who was still glaring at Claire as if it were her fault teachers didn’t want to settle permanently in a community a zillion miles from civilization.
“I’m Claire Flynn,” she said with her best smile.
“Anne McKirk,” the woman grudgingly replied.
“You have a nice store.” It was definitely an everything-under-the-sun store. Food, hardware, crafts, clothing. One of the soda coolers held veterinary medications. It wasn’t a large space, but it was packed to the rafters.
“I try.”
Claire unloaded her basket on the counter. She would have liked some fresh fruit, but considering the circumstances, she’d take what she could get.
“Your sister taught here.”
“Yes. Three years ago.”
“She was good, but she didn’t last long.”
“She would have had a bit of a commute if she’d stayed,” Claire pointed out. Will Bishop, the man Regan had married, lived seventy miles away in Wesley, Nevada, where she now taught.
“Well, it would have been nice if Will had taken over the old homestead, instead of his brother. Then she would have stayed.”
“Yes, she would have,” Claire agreed. But it hadn’t worked out that way, so now the town was stuck with the wrong brother and the wrong sister.
“You interested in joining the quilting club?”
“I, uh, don’t know,” Claire hedged. She had never done anything more complicated with a needle than sew on the occasional button. She did it well, but she had a feeling that quilting was more difficult than button attachment.
“I’ll