The Bakery Sisters by Susan Mallery Page A

when she thought about Jesse and Drew.
    â€œI’m sorry about that.”
    â€œHow’d you find out?” Nicole couldn’t imagine Wyatt talking about it.
    â€œJesse told me. She stopped by a couple of days ago. She’s the one who called me to ask me to come help out.” Claire’s mouth twisted. “I don’t understand how she could have done that.”
    â€œMe, either,” Nicole said, hating that she wanted to ask how Jesse was. Did she actually miss her? After what she’d done? Impossible. “Let’s change the subject.”
    â€œOkay. Wyatt asked me to look after Amy.”
    â€œHave you done any babysitting?”
    â€œNo. Is it hard?”
    Nicole thought of a dozen snippy comments, each more hurtful than the one before. Instead she smiled. “I guess it could be with another kid, but not with Amy. She’s a sweetie. I’m sure you two will get along great.”
    Â 
    C LAIRE WAITED by the bus stop as Amy waved to her friends, then climbed down.
    â€œHow was your day?” Claire signed, then took the girl’s backpack.
    â€œGood,” Amy signed back, then said, “You’ve been practicing.”
    â€œSome. I’m trying.” Claire motioned to her rental car. The plan was for her to pick up Amy, then take her back to Nicole’s house. She paused by the passenger side door.
    â€œI need to go shopping,” she said, speaking slowly and facing Amy so the girl could read her lips. “I need different clothes. Maybe jeans.”
    Amy signed something Claire didn’t recognize.
    â€œCasual,” the girl said.
    â€œRight. I need a cookbook, too.” She finger spelled cook and then signed book. “Something really easy. Do you want to come with me or go to Nicole’s?”
    Amy pointed at her. “Shopping.”
    Claire smiled. “They grow up so fast.”
    Twenty minutes later, they were at Alderwood Mall. Claire had already called Nicole to say they would be a while. After parking, she and Amy headed for Macy’s.
    â€œYou need jeans,” Amy said as she signed.
    Claire fingered her wool slacks. More than jeans. She needed a whole wardrobe that wasn’t expensive and difficult to take care of. Cashmere was nice, but not every minute of every day.
    Once they were inside, Amy took charge. Claire tried not to be upset about the fact that an eight-year-old knew more about shopping than her. The truth was, she rarely shopped. Lisa, her manager, brought a selection of clothes to Claire’s apartment or her hotel room if they were on the road, Claire tried them on and kept the ones she liked.
    She wore classic styles from expensive designers. Her performing clothes were mostly long black dresses…variations on a theme. She didn’t own jeans or T-shirts or a sweatshirt. Which was all about to change.
    Amy led her to a table of jeans in different colors. Claire picked dark blue and black, then followed the girl to racks of shirts and knit tops. Some were plain, but others had embellishments—printing, or appliquéd flowers. Even small rhinestones. She grabbed a jean jacket, a couple of pairs of dressier jeans, sweatshirts, casual sweaters and a couple of white cotton blouses.
    Amy picked up T-shirts, a halter top in bright pink and a couple of lacy tunic tops Claire wasn’t sure about. Then they made their way to the dressing room.
    Thirty minutes later, she had a casual wardrobe filled with easy-care cotton and fun colors. She bought jeans with flowers sewn on the back pockets and skimpy T-shirts that fit snugly enough to both make her nervous and make her feel good about herself.
    She bought blouses and a couple of sweatshirts, along with a few sweaters. Nothing in black, nothing she couldn’t wash. The five bags they dragged back to the car had cost less than the last designer blouse and skirt she’d bought only two months ago.
    Amy helped her stow the bags in the