be all worried and concerned. Before I would have been happy she was suffering.”
“You’re always looking at the bright side.”
“Shh. I’m ignoring you and sending calm, healing thoughts to my sister.”
A few minutes later, the principal stepped onto the stage. She had a handheld microphone and asked for quiet.
“We have an unexpected pleasure this afternoon,” she said when the crowd had stilled. “Claire Keyes is going to play for us.”
Everyone clapped. Mrs. Freeman waited for silence before continuing. “Most of you already know Claire’s story. When she was three years old, she walked over to a piano and began to play. She’d never seen the instrument before, had received no instruction of any kind. She was a true child prodigy. But unlike those who peak early, Claire only improved as she grew up. She studied, she played, she traveled the world, sharing her gift. Today she will share that gift with us. Claire Keyes.”
“I hope she doesn’t fall on her ass,” Nicole whispered.
Wyatt privately agreed.
The drapes parted showing a piano in the center of the stage. Nicole crossed her fingers when Claire appeared, holding Amy’s hand. They moved to the piano. Claire took her seat on the bench without looking at anyone, while Amy stood next to the piano, her hands on top of it, as if prepared to feel the music.
Wyatt could see tension in Claire’s back. There was something about the set of her head that told him she was having trouble breathing.
He swore silently, wanting to do something, anything, to fix the problem. But it didn’t require anything from him. Claire was truly on her own.
She spread out her music. Wyatt stared at the pages, at the small black dots that meant something to her. How could anyone get that right? How could she possibly—
Claire put her hands on the keys and began to play. Music filled the auditorium, the notes sure and strong and more beautiful than anything Wyatt had heard since the night he’d listened to her practice. Amy looked out and smiled at them.
She was doing it, he thought with relief. Claire was doing it.
Wyatt watched over the next forty minutes as the tension faded. Claire relaxed, apparently losing herself in the moment.
Nicole leaned toward him. “She’s doing it.”
“She’s impressive.”
“Break her heart and I’ll beat you with a stick. Worse, I won’t be your friend anymore.”
Wyatt looked at her. “For real?”
She nodded. “She’s my sister.”
He put his arm around her. “I’m glad you finally figured that out.”
CLAIRE WENT FOR A DRIVE after she played. She found Pike Place Market under points of interest on her GPS system and let the calm computer woman direct her to a parking garage. After walking down the hills, she crossed the street and moved toward the path offering a view of the sound.
It was sunny but breezy. The wind tugged on her sweater and blew her hair around her face. There were crowds of people everywhere, yet she felt totally alone in the best way possible.
She’d done it. Despite the fear, the pounding heart, the dry throat, she’d played and after a few minutes, the music had become everything.
She’d been horribly out of practice. Anyone with any training at all would have winced through her performance, but her audience had been kind and forgiving.
It was a start, she told herself as she stared at the water and felt life ease back into her. She wasn’t going to kid herself that she was cured, but she was making the right kind of progress. Tomorrow she would practice for a couple of hours. Limber up. Let music back into her life.
She returned to her car and made her way home. When she walked into the house, excited, wanting to thank Nicole for coming, she was surprised to find her sister pacing the length of the great room, her face pale, her mouth set in a thin, angry line.
“What’s wrong?” Claire asked. “Are you all right? Is someone sick?”
Nicole glared at her. “Tell me you didn’t know. I swear to God, if you did, I’ll… I don’t know what, but something big and ugly.”
Claire wanted to back up but she stood her ground. “Know what?”
“About Jesse. She’s selling cakes on the Internet. She’s set up a Web site that looks almost exactly like ours. The Web site address is damn close, too. But the difference is, instead of just giving out information like we do, she’s selling the cakes.”
Claire couldn’t believe it. “The Keyes chocolate cake?” No way. Jesse wouldn’t do that, would she? Not after sleeping with Drew. This was bad. Worse than bad.
“Yes. I can’t believe it. She’s even selling them for five dollars more. I’m so pissed off. I just want to find her and crush her like a bug.”
“You’re really angry and you should be, but we can figure this out,” Claire began.
“No we can’t. I knew she was a screwup. I didn’t expect miracles, but this is the last betrayal. I couldn’t do anything about her sleeping with Drew, but by God I can do something about this.”
Claire didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you going to do?”
“Press charges and have her thrown in jail, where she can rot.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CLAIRE WAITED on an old bench by the wall until Jesse walked out. Her sister was pale and looked as if she’d been crying. Claire stood, not sure what to say or what she wanted her sister to say. When nothing came to mind, she turned and led the way to the car.
“I’m sorry,” Jesse said when they were pulling out of the parking lot.
“That’s the first time I’ve bailed anyone out of jail.”
“It’s the first time I’ve been in jail. I can’t believe she had me arrested. I never thought she’d do that. She’s supposed to love me.”
Jesse began to cry.
Claire was torn. While she sympathized with Jesse’s pain, she felt she was more comfortable siding with Nicole on this one. Jesse had crossed the line too many times.
“What did you think she would do?” Claire asked.
“Yell at me.”
“You stole the recipe and you’re selling Keyes cakes on the Internet. Yelling is usually reserved for things like violating curfew.”
Jesse turned to look at her. She brushed away her tears. “How could I steal it if I’m a Keyes, too? Dad left half the bakery to me. Isn’t that recipe half mine?”
“If
