Claire said. “Please don’t leave, Sydney. I want you here. I may not act like it sometimes, but I do.”
“I’m not leaving. I can’t.” Sydney sighed. “As crazy as this place is, the way people think, the sameness, is what makes it safe. Bay needs that. I’m her mother, I have to give that to her.”
The words were left hanging in the air, and Claire could tell immediately that Sydney wanted to take them back. “Did you leave someplace that wasn’t safe?” Claire had to ask.
But she should have known Sydney wouldn’t answer. She shifted in her bed again, turning away. “I wish you’d do something about him,” Sydney said, pointing to her open window. “It’s hard to sleep with that.”
There was a faint purple light filtering in. Curious, Claire entered Sydney’s room and went to the window, which overlooked Tyler’s house. She looked down and found Tyler walking around his front yard in pajama bottoms and nothing else, a cigarette in his hand. He was radiating those tiny purple snaps again. Occasionally he would stop and look over to the Waverley house, then he’d resume pacing.
“You can see it?” Claire asked, still looking down at Tyler.
“Of course.”
“Then you’re more of a Waverley than you give yourself credit for being.”
Sydney snorted. “Oh, joy. So what are you going to do about him?”
Claire ignored the flutter like tiny birds’ wings in her chest. She moved away from the window. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Just because no one expects you to do it doesn’t mean you can’t. Don’t you ever want to prove people wrong?”
“I’m a Waverley,” Claire said, walking back to the door. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re human. It’s okay to date. It’s okay to feel something. Go out with Tyler. Make people say, ‘I can’t believe she did that.’”
“You sound like Mom.”
“Was that a compliment?”
Claire stopped at the door and gave a small laugh. “I’m not sure.”
Sydney sat up in bed and punched her pillow a few times. “Wake me and I’ll help you deliver the cinnamon buns in the morning,” she said as she flopped back down.
“No, I can—” Claire stopped. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER
6
T uesday afternoon Claire announced she was going to the grocery store, and Sydney asked if she and Bay could ride along. Sydney wanted to get a newspaper to check out the want ads and, though it pained her to do so, she had to return the shirt Evanelle had given her. She’d put aside the money she made from working with Claire for emergencies, so she needed extra cash for toiletries, and Bay needed kid food. Claire was a great cook, but she’d looked at Bay blankly yesterday when Bay asked if she had any pizza rolls.
When they reached Fred’s, Claire and Bay went into the grocery store and Sydney walked up the sidewalk. The square hadn’t changed much, although now there was a university student’s sculpture that looked like an oak leaf by the fountain on the green.
She returned the shirt at Maxine’s and discovered that the shop had changed hands twice in the past ten years and was now run by a stylish woman in her fifties. She didn’t have an opening in the store, but she took Sydney’s number and said she would call if something came up. She recognized the Waverley name when Sydney wrote it down and asked Sydney if she was related to Claire. When Sydney said yes, the woman brightened and said Claire had made her daughter’s wedding cake last year, and it had been the talk of all her friends from Atlanta. Then she said she would definitely call if she ever had an opening.
On her way back to the grocery store from Maxine’s, Sydney passed the White Door Salon. Ten years ago it had been a trendy hair salon called Tangles, but now it was much more posh. A patron came out, and with her came the scent of chemicals cushioned by the fragrance of sweet shampoo. It was a smell that could almost lift Sydney up and make her float.
“I’m not leaving. I can’t.” Sydney sighed. “As crazy as this place is, the way people think, the sameness, is what makes it safe. Bay needs that. I’m her mother, I have to give that to her.”
The words were left hanging in the air, and Claire could tell immediately that Sydney wanted to take them back. “Did you leave someplace that wasn’t safe?” Claire had to ask.
But she should have known Sydney wouldn’t answer. She shifted in her bed again, turning away. “I wish you’d do something about him,” Sydney said, pointing to her open window. “It’s hard to sleep with that.”
There was a faint purple light filtering in. Curious, Claire entered Sydney’s room and went to the window, which overlooked Tyler’s house. She looked down and found Tyler walking around his front yard in pajama bottoms and nothing else, a cigarette in his hand. He was radiating those tiny purple snaps again. Occasionally he would stop and look over to the Waverley house, then he’d resume pacing.
“You can see it?” Claire asked, still looking down at Tyler.
“Of course.”
“Then you’re more of a Waverley than you give yourself credit for being.”
Sydney snorted. “Oh, joy. So what are you going to do about him?”
Claire ignored the flutter like tiny birds’ wings in her chest. She moved away from the window. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Just because no one expects you to do it doesn’t mean you can’t. Don’t you ever want to prove people wrong?”
“I’m a Waverley,” Claire said, walking back to the door. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re human. It’s okay to date. It’s okay to feel something. Go out with Tyler. Make people say, ‘I can’t believe she did that.’”
“You sound like Mom.”
“Was that a compliment?”
Claire stopped at the door and gave a small laugh. “I’m not sure.”
Sydney sat up in bed and punched her pillow a few times. “Wake me and I’ll help you deliver the cinnamon buns in the morning,” she said as she flopped back down.
“No, I can—” Claire stopped. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER
6
T uesday afternoon Claire announced she was going to the grocery store, and Sydney asked if she and Bay could ride along. Sydney wanted to get a newspaper to check out the want ads and, though it pained her to do so, she had to return the shirt Evanelle had given her. She’d put aside the money she made from working with Claire for emergencies, so she needed extra cash for toiletries, and Bay needed kid food. Claire was a great cook, but she’d looked at Bay blankly yesterday when Bay asked if she had any pizza rolls.
When they reached Fred’s, Claire and Bay went into the grocery store and Sydney walked up the sidewalk. The square hadn’t changed much, although now there was a university student’s sculpture that looked like an oak leaf by the fountain on the green.
She returned the shirt at Maxine’s and discovered that the shop had changed hands twice in the past ten years and was now run by a stylish woman in her fifties. She didn’t have an opening in the store, but she took Sydney’s number and said she would call if something came up. She recognized the Waverley name when Sydney wrote it down and asked Sydney if she was related to Claire. When Sydney said yes, the woman brightened and said Claire had made her daughter’s wedding cake last year, and it had been the talk of all her friends from Atlanta. Then she said she would definitely call if she ever had an opening.
On her way back to the grocery store from Maxine’s, Sydney passed the White Door Salon. Ten years ago it had been a trendy hair salon called Tangles, but now it was much more posh. A patron came out, and with her came the scent of chemicals cushioned by the fragrance of sweet shampoo. It was a smell that could almost lift Sydney up and make her float.
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