Was there regret in his voice? Or was it just her imagination, Clare wondered.
“Another time, then. I do hope you’ll stay, my dear,” Adele said, turning back to Clare.
Clare almost refused. But she really didn’t have anything else to do today. And if Adele knew Adam, perhaps the woman could offer a few more insights about the good doctor that would help Clare persuade him. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
“Good to see you, Adele,” Adam said. Then he turned to Clare. “I’ll be in touch.”
She nodded, and both she and Adele watched as Adam and Nicole made their way out.
“Such a nice man. And a wonderful doctor,” Adele said. “Hope Creek was lucky to get him when Doc Evans retired last year. And he certainly tries hard with Nicole. But it’s such a challenge raising children these days. Especially alone.” She glanced down at the ring on Clare’s left hand. “Do you have children, my dear?”
Clare’s throat tightened. Maybe someday that question would be easier to answer. But not yet. It still hurt as much as it had two years before. “No. I’m a widow.”
The older woman reached over and spoke softly as she touched Clare’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t suppose that’s something one ever gets over. I know I’d be completely lost without my Ralph. He’s home today with a cold, and it just didn’t feel quite right sitting in church without him. But you have your faith to sustain you. That’s such a great blessing in times of trial.” She tucked her arm through Clare’s. “Now come along and let’s get some coffee and a doughnut. Adam’s forever after me to lose twenty pounds, but honestly, I don’t think one doughnut on Sunday is going to hurt, do you?”
The woman chatted amiably as they made their way to the church hall, where she took pains to introduce Clare to several members of the congregation. It became clear that Adele was quite prominent in the town, obviously active in both church and civic pursuits. When they finally found themselves alone for a moment, Clare glanced at her watch and set down her cup of tea.
“I think I’ve taken up far too much of your time,” she apologized.
“Not at all. I enjoy meeting new people. Will you be in town long?”
“At least for a few days.”
“Do you have any friends or family nearby?”
“No.”
“So what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
Clare hadn’t really thought much about the holiday, even though it was only four days away. A.J. had just arrived in St. Louis, so she wasn’t in a position to leave the bookstore. And the last she’d heard, Morgan intended to work most of the holiday weekend. So Clare had planned to just grab a bite somewhere by herself. Which was a far cry from how she preferred to celebrate holidays, she thought wistfully. Special days should be festive occasions filled with fun and family. But both of those things were now absent from her life. Treating Thanksgiving like any other day seemed the best way to cope without falling apart.
“I really don’t have any plans,” she told the older woman.
“Then you must join us for dinner.”
Clare stared at her, surprised by the impromptu invitation. “But…I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family celebration.”
Adele waved her concern aside. “You won’t be. My husband and I don’t have children, or any close family. So we’ve always invited others to join us for Thanksgiving. The associate pastor and his wife will be there. And Adam and Nicole are coming, too. Adam’s only brother lives in Charlotte, and they go to his wife’s house for Thanksgiving. So Adam and Nicole will be on their own for the holiday. There will be a few others, as well. You’d be more than welcome.”
Clare considered the invitation. It was certainly preferable to eating at the Bluebird, charming as it was. Besides, the café might not even be open on that day. And it would give her a chance to press her case with Adam. But more than anything, she was touched by the older woman’s generosity in opening her home to a stranger on a holiday. Her invitation was truly Christian charity in action.
“Thank you,” Clare said with a smile. “I’d love to come. May I bring something?”
“Just yourself.” Adele opened her handbag and withdrew a small notepad and pen. “I’ll jot down my address and phone number. We usually begin to gather about four.”
Clare took the slip of paper a moment later and tucked it in her purse. “Thank you, Mrs. Malone.”
“Adele, my dear. We aren’t that formal in Hope Creek. And it’s my pleasure. No one should spend the holiday alone. Or lonely.”
As Clare said her goodbyes, she reflected on Adele’s parting words. The woman was right, of course. And she’d apparently taken care of the “alone” part for a number of Hope Creek residents. But the loneliness was harder to deal with. Because it went deeper. And wasn’t always as visible.
Adam and Nicole came to mind. They lived in the same house. They shared meals. They went to church together. So they weren’t alone. Yet Clare knew they were lonely. And sometimes that kind of loneliness was worse than being physically alone. There was something especially tragic about two people living in close proximity who were unable to connect.
Her work would be cut out for her with Nicole, Clare reflected. The young girl desperately needed guidance. But in her mind, there was a whole lot more to this nanny job than simply helping Nicole get her act together.
Bottom line, Adam and Nicole needed to establish a bond. And they needed an intermediary, a catalyst—maybe even a referee—to help them do that.
It would be a challenging role, Clare knew. But she wanted to play it. Because in the short time they’d spent together, she’d felt their pain. And she wanted to help them salvage their relationship before it was too late.
For Nicole’s sake, of course.
But also for Nicole’s father.
Chapter Three
“Thanks for coming by on such short notice.”
Clare nodded. She hadn’t expected to hear back from Adam so soon, but when she’d returned to the Evergreen after church and a quick breakfast she’d found a message waiting, asking her to stop by his house at four o’clock that afternoon. She’d called back, confirming the appointment.
“Would you mind if we talked in the kitchen?” Adam asked. “I had to make an emergency run to the grocery store and I just got back. I need to put a few things away.”
“Of course.”
Clare followed him down a hallway toward the back of the house. At least the sunny kitchen had a little more personality than the living room. It was painted a pale blue, and a border of trailing morning glory vines had been stenciled along the top of the walls. A weathered oak table and four chairs stood beside a bay window that afforded a lovely view of the pine woods on the hillside behind the house.
“Have a seat and I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Adam said.
She chose a chair that gave her a view of the restful scene out the window. But instead Clare turned her attention to Adam, watching as he rapidly took items out of the plastic grocery bags—eggs, canned soup, bread, lunch meat, crackers, milk, cereal, microwave dinners. She caught a glimpse of his nearly empty refrigerator when he opened the door to put the milk inside.
“Sorry about this,” he apologized. “I try not to shop on Sunday, but sometimes the week just gets away from me. Then it becomes an emergency. I thought I’d have everything put away before you got here, but it always takes me longer at the grocery store than I expect.”