Chapter Sixteen

 

 

 

Matt pounded on the door again. The last time he’d heard movement in the apartment, so he knew someone was home. In the middle of the fourth round of knocking, the door was yanked open to reveal a very pissed off-looking Nick Marcus.

“Matt, what the hell, man?”

“I need your help.” Matt pushed by, stopping short to find Taryn sitting on the couch wrapped in what appeared to be only one of Nick’s dress shirts. “Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Thanks a lot.” Nick waved it off. “But talk. What’s going on?”

Matt took a deep breath to calm himself, then opened his eyes to Taryn again. “I’m sorry, Taryn. Are you okay? Do you need me to go or…?” He trailed off, knowing he was an ass for interrupting a scene, and he was unsure how to continue.

Taryn smiled slightly. “Well, it’s not okay, but it’s okay. Talk.”

“All right.” Matt turned to Nick. “I need your help.”

“You said that. So I’m guessing you need a lawyer?” Nick sat at the dining table, pulling a notepad over. “What’d you do?”

Matt stared, feeling his jaw drop. “What?”

Nick shrugged. “I figured the good boy would snap eventually. What was it?”

“God, Nick, no! I need your contacts.” Matt shook his head, totally thrown. “You said you had friends from the military in Chicago. I need to do some digging and figure out what happened to Claire.”

“Oh.” Nick put his pen down. “Um… Sorry? I just figured it was legal.”

Taryn piped up from the couch. “Maybe it is, sort of. You should check court records or licenses or something.”

“Yes!” Matt pointed at Taryn. “That’s great. Right there… I need ideas like that.”

Taryn rested her chin on the back of the futon. “Do you know anything? She didn’t seem like much of a talker. Might be hard to find anything if there isn’t a paper trail.”

Matt sat across from Nick at the table. “She talked about a Korean grocer in Chinatown. And a club near Logan Square. And she’s living somewhere near Michigan Ave, by the Magnificent Mile, where she has a property for sale. But that’s it.”

“Hmm. It’s a good start, actually. I’ll see what I can find on her real estate license.” Nick walked to his desk in the other room.

Matt turned to Taryn, seeing the speculative look on her face. “Hey, Nick,” she called.

“Yeah, hon?” he responded.

“Is that what it looks like?”

Matt heard Nick laugh and he frowned at Taryn. “What what looks like?”

She gave him a cheeky smile. “Love. Nick said that’s how he knew he loved me. He kept doing stupid stuff.”

Matt felt dumbfounded. “Like researching someone’s background,” he observed with a heavy sigh.

Taryn nodded. “Yeah. Stalking would be included.”

Matt let his forehead fall into his hands. “You’re right. What am I doing? She’s going to hate me if I dig all this up.” With his brow furrowed, he looked back to Taryn. “The only thing I could think of was looking her up online and her realty site is good, but she only has one address listed and it’s the place for sale. She doesn’t list an office, just a broker affiliate. She has a P.O. box, and the phone number is the same one I have—and she isn’t answering.”

“Hmmm.” Taryn’s assessing noise was hardly encouraging. “So you need to figure out how to get her to answer your call?”

“Or get her to see me.”

“How about both?” Taryn asked.

 

* * * *

 

Claire smiled wanly, accepting the counted-out cash from her favorite consignment shop. The corset had gotten her a bonus, as had the Ralph Lauren formal. She had her eye on a new suit, something modern, to help boost her image for the new client coming in. She would just have to replace the rest of it after the place sold.

The call had been a surprise, sandwiched between the calls she was dodging from Matt. Another realtor from the area had called to arrange a showing for his client, who was selling their lakefront property. Several times in the conversation, he’d mentioned his client’s desire to be closer to the fashionable part of downtown for the seasonal shopping.

Claire didn’t dare to hope. The payment was due in three days and she had to do everything she could to close this sale and make the showing everything it could be. She had spent every moment since receiving the call cleaning the condo top to bottom and erasing every hint of her presence from it. The bedsheets and towels were freshly laundered, no trace of her breakdown from days ago to be found. The tile floors gleamed, and every surface had been polished to perfection.

If—Claire hated to jinx herself with more than a hope for an ‘if’—this sale happened, Claire knew she had to be done. She couldn’t stay in the city with its constant demand for new and fashionable and expensive. Her years here had left her tired and cold, something she hadn’t realized until the blast of warmth she’d experienced from West Haven. She couldn’t go back, though. Maybe if—again, she prayed for an ‘if’—she got out from under this place, she would look for somewhere similar, a small town with people to develop friendships with and to keep her busy enough to forget.

At Yves Saint Laurent, Claire requested the size she would need to fit. The associate eyed her last-season Louboutins, but fulfilled the request, setting Claire up in a fitting room. The brown tweed was classic, but Claire knew the asymmetrical buttoning of the jacket would add the fashion-forward interest that would get a buyer’s attention. The fit was flawless, of course, and Claire quickly paid for her find and rushed back to prepare for the showing.

Her hand shook slightly, forcing her to reapply her makeup multiple times before she decreed it good enough. She dried her hair, smoothing it into the straight, sharp style that was favored now. She laid her suit out with a simple high-necked silk shell and the cream flats that she wore for showings to decrease the high heel tracks in the carpet. After gathering her accessories, she closed her small rolling suitcase and stashed it under the bed, thankful she didn’t have to hide the garment bag as well.

Claire dressed carefully, smoothing the jacket over the blouse and critiquing in the mirror until she was satisfied. A final wipe down of the bathroom ensured there was no lingering fog on the mirror or toothpaste in the sink.

In the entry she made sure to have the brochures standing ready and her facts sheet at hand. The lobby bell rang, letting her know that her new client had just checked in at the desk. She waited nervously for a few minutes until she heard the knock on the door. She walked calmly, reminding herself not to scurry. With a deep breath, she pasted her smile in place and turned the handle, drawing the door open wide.

Claire felt her smile drop at the sight of Matt on the other side of the door. They stared at each other, her gaze horrified and his features showing more than a little hope. Claire noticed the rumpled state of his shirt and slacks, as well as the disheveled tracks from his fingers in his hair. Behind him, adding more shock to Claire’s day, Cherise Baxter walked sedately toward them.

“Mrs. Baxter, how lovely to see you.” Claire looked past Matt and stepped into the apartment, gesturing them in.

“You see? She’s perfectly fine.” Cherise tapped Matt on the shoulder as she glided by him. “I told you she would be here. My company confirmed it.”

“Y-your company?” Claire stammered.

“Well, of course, sweetheart,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “You told me you were going to sell me a condo in town. Matthew here just had to remind me.”

Claire refused to look his way. He hadn’t said a word yet. She knew he was looking at her and hadn’t stopped since she’d opened the door.

“Then let’s get to it, Mrs. Baxter. I think you’ll enjoy the property.” Claire swept her arm to the windows. “The windows give a magnificent view and are high enough from the street to take all the noise out of downtown living. If you look just there, you get a glimpse of the boats coming in to dock.”

“Oh, I don’t need the boats. We had plenty of that out at the beach house.” Cherise continued walking through the room.

Claire nearly stumbled in her prepared speech. “This first bedroom is fantastically placed. With the French doors, it can be closed off and used for sleep or opened and included in the living area as a sitting room or office.”

Silently Mrs. Baxter continued walking through, poking into closets and alcoves as Claire extolled the virtues of the apartment in a voice that got shakier as they went. All the while Matt followed, a silent specter at her heel.

As the tour completed and she left Cherise to take a call in the room Claire had been sleeping in, she turned on Matt.

“Fine. Let me have it. Tell me what you had to say so badly that you had to come all the way out here.” At his continued silence, Claire exploded, her voice hissing in lowered tones to ensure she wasn’t heard. “What are you doing here? Are you gloating? Making sure I wasn’t lying? Why are you here, Matt?”

Gingerly he stepped closer. He put his arms around her and he rested his cheek on her hair, pulling her in and squeezing her tightly.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

Claire didn’t dare move. She couldn’t breathe for fear the warm, spicy scent of him would set her to tears once again. She pushed him away then turned her back, drawing in a breath that still smelled faintly of Matt. She heard Cherise approach and replaced the smile to greet her.

“Well, Mrs. Baxter? Is there anything else I can do to convince you I’ve found the perfect second home for you?”

“No, dear. I hadn’t really expected to be looking, but someone”—Cherise raised an eyebrow in Matt’s direction—“someone bought the land I had been looking at previously. Something about rebuilding an old Victorian.” Claire’s heart fluttered, understanding what Mrs. Baxter was telling her. Matt was building the house he’d designed.

“There’s nothing more I need to see.” The continued response was curt and short, and Claire felt her composure cracking. “My realtor has already started the paperwork. He’ll be in touch.” With the short announcement, Cherise walked out the front door.

Claire felt her jaw drop just before her knees gave out and she sank to the floor. The dragon lady was buying it? She was done? It was finally over? Claire could hardly trust her own mind. “What just happened?”

“She was pretty convinced when I talked to her yesterday. I told her you were really working hard and that you needed a good sale. Chas said she fell in love with it when she looked at the pictures you posted on your site. So maybe coming back was good for something after all, huh?”

Claire heard the dejection in his voice. “Yes,” she responded, “for a couple things.”

She stood, turning to face him. He stood in front of one of the tall windows, hands in his pockets and staring at her with a hopeful expression. “Like what?” he asked, with a hint of desperation.

“Well,” Claire began, taking a step closer. “I remembered I had friends a long time ago, pretty good ones, friends I could tell anything to.” Her mouth went a little dry as she explained, “Like how I got duped when I got here. Taken advantage of because I was a starry-eyed small town girl with big dreams. How I was too ashamed to come home. How hard I’ve been working, hoping to make them all proud of me. And how much I’ve missed them.”

Matt took a pace closer, a small smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. “Anything else?”

“I found a new favorite dry cleaner.” Claire edged closer again.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. And there’s a house being built there that I think I could really like living in with the right architect.”

“What else?” Matt stopped directly in front of her, his hands curled in impatient fists at his sides.

“Ran into my first love.”

Matt grinned. “Really?”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured. “Then…then I found a new love.”

“Is that so? What’s he like?”

Claire feigned an expression of deep thought. “Sort of like the old one but with more rope.”

Matt threw his head back and laughed. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Matty.” Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, savoring the feeling of his hands linking behind her back. “Don’t let me forget it again. Okay?”

He stooped to press a lingering kiss on her lips. “Come on, Claire. Let me take you home.”