Mrs. Franklin smiled. “We have a new subdivision going in by Lake Stedmore. The development company hired Paul to maintain the common areas. Why don’t I call him?”
“Why don’t I think about it first?”
“I’m crowding you.” The older woman’s cheeks flushed. “You were part of my life, as much as I could keep you in sight without alerting Jeff Dylan. I care about you, and I guess I’m trying to make up for those years.”
Touched, Clair let down her guard. “You have nothing to make up. I’ve made my own decisions for a long time.” She grimaced, remembering some of them, a love affair with a professor that had, however unfairly, ended her college career, the jobs and towns she’d left because she hadn’t belonged. She could have made herself a home in any one of those places. “I’d like to stay, but I’d have to find a job and I’d have to face the fact that I’ll never live in my house again.”
“Do you love The Oaks more than the town? People who care about you, people who hold your history in their memories live in Fairlove, and we want you back now that it’s safe for you.”
Clair wanted to believe. “I’m not sure I can stay when I’m afraid I’d be letting Mom and Dad down if I don’t try to get the house back.”
“I’ll ask Paul Sayers to come over. You just talk to him. You don’t have to decide now.”
Agreeing to meet him meant she’d made a decision. Clair knew herself well enough to realize she’d accept a job if the landscaper offered it. She wanted to be sure before she took action, but she heard herself answering, “I’ll call him if you’ll give me the number.”
Mrs. Franklin pursed her lips. “Let me do this one thing for you, and then I’ll lay off.” She clapped her hands together. “Now, do you want the continental breakfast, or can I make you bacon and eggs and home fries like your mama used to make?”
Clair set the menu aside, hungry after such an exhausting morning. “No contest. I’ll take the bacon and eggs, thank you.”
Mrs. Franklin turned smartly for the kitchen and Clair opened the paper. A man and woman came into the dining room so completely engrossed in each other she couldn’t help watching them. She envied the couple their intimacy.
As they took the corner table, she tried to return her attention to the newspaper. The dry cleaners had an advertisement that promised they’d clean six shirts for a low, low price. So Nick Dylan had found himself a bargain.
“All right, I talked to Paul.”
Clair jumped. “I didn’t see you come back, Mrs. Franklin.”
She set a plate on the mat in front of Clair. “Better start on this. Paul’s coming over. He had some free time, and he said he wanted to talk to an experienced worker.”
Clair felt a bit nauseous, but she picked up her fork. “This is a huge decision. I still think I should take some time to make it.”
“Talk to Paul. Then think.” Mrs. Franklin straightened the knife at Clair’s right hand. Her gaze made Clair uncomfortable. “You look so much like your mother.”
“I think you’ve confused me with her. That’s why you’re so glad to see me.”
“Maybe partly. I’m ashamed I couldn’t do more for you, but maybe I want to know you better, too. And you have a right to live in the town where you were born. Fairlove can be a good place to live.”
“If your name isn’t Atherton and you don’t attract the hatred of a Dylan.”
“Jeff Dylan loved your mother once.”
“Then he hated her, and he hated my father and me.”
“I don’t think Nick Dylan is like his father. If you can stand seeing him around town, you’ll like living here again. Leota stays up at the house. She hardly ever comes down to town, and she won’t have anything to do with the likes of you or me.”
“You?” Clair was surprised. “You’re a judge’s wife. You’re just the kind of people Leota Dylan liked.”
“She likes most judges’ wives.” Mrs. Franklin turned away, and this time she was clearly hiding her thoughts. “We’ll talk about Leota later. My other guests will think I’m ignoring them.”
Clair welcomed time on her own to put her meeting with Nick Dylan behind her and think about her impromptu interview with Paul Sayers. About whether she should even consider talking to this man about a job in a town where Nick Dylan looked at her as if she’d risen from the dead.
Her breakfast went untouched as she stared at the newspaper whose ink she’d smeared, but not read. Did she have enough courage to try to make a life in Fairlove?
“Excuse me. Are you Clair Atherton?”
She looked up. A tall man towered over her table, his jeans clean but stained, his belly a gentle protrusion above his wide leather belt. He pried a Braves baseball cap off wild brown curls sprinkled with gray and threaded his fingers through them.
“You must be Paul Sayers.”
He nodded. “Selina tells me you have experience and you might be looking for work. I could use another pair of hands.”
Folding the paper away, Clair pointed at the other chair. “Do you want to sit down?”
He sat and hitched his chair closer. “Do you have any references? I know you won’t have them on you now, but you can bring them to me.”
She nodded. “I worked for a nursery in Connecticut for about two years, and then I moved on to a couple of landscaping firms in Boston.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a notepad. “I can write down names and numbers right now.”
As she wrote, he said, “I’ll take them, but first I need to know how long you think you’ll be staying in town.” He reached for a cup from the next table and poured himself coffee. “Not that I should ask, but I’ve had a hard time keeping people for longer than a season.”
She hesitated for a long moment. He was asking for a commitment. And it scared her, but this was a commitment she suspected she’d been running to, not one she would run from.
“I’ve come home,” she finally said. Paul Sayers didn’t know her, didn’t know her family. She didn’t have to prove she belonged in Fairlove to him. “I lived here once.”
“Good. Wait a minute. Atherton? Your family owned that old house in the oak grove at the bottom of the Dylan estate?”
She nodded.
“I hate seeing folks let a fine old place like that go. It’s a beauty, or it could be if someone with a little elbow grease took it over. Do you plan to buy it back?”
She looked away, not wanting to show him how much the loss of her home hurt. “I’d need more than one job to manage that.”
Paul nodded. “I sure can’t pay you that kind of money, but the company’s young. If your references pan out and you’re a strong worker
