Claudia watched her mother’s face as she replayed the message from Andee Lawrence, knowing very well what Marcy was thinking. It was probably much the same as she’d thought herself when she’d first heard it, although her mother would have far more optimism going on than she’d had.
At last something that might persuade Claudia to emerge from her shell.
“Are you going to call her back?” Marcy asked, returning the phone and carrying on brushing her hair in the mirror. She was clearly trying not to make a big deal of it, continuing to get ready for a meeting at the community center, and given how carefully she’d applied her makeup Claudia wondered, not for the first time lately, if there was someone special on her mother’s horizon.
“I think if I don’t call back you’ll leave me,” Claudia quipped.
Marcy smiled, her blue eyes softening in a way that made her seem younger and happier than she’d looked in a while. “It’s a great opportunity to start building your business again,” she said, “and to meet someone new.”
Claudia wasn’t going to deny that, for it was what she’d thought herself, and turning to look at the dining table laden with dishes of colored beads and charms, special threads and wire, her pliers, glue, and needles, she gave a small sigh. She’d made jewelry several years ago and sold it online, and now she was in the process of doing more, rebranding her designs as Simply Baubles. It wasn’t going to make her a fortune, but it wasn’t a fortune that she needed.
It was a life.
“You shouldn’t waste any time,” Marcy urged. “If you don’t get back to her right away, she’ll find someone else. You can do this.”
In spite of the anxiety tightening her heart, Claudia said, “OK, I’ll call her now,” and tapping Andee Lawrence’s number on the phone screen, she looked at her mother again as she waited for the connection.
Marcy’s face was full of hope, eyes bright with encouragement, and Claudia knew she was doing this as much for her as she was for herself.
“Hi, Andee Lawrence speaking.”
Claudia’s eyes drifted to the rain on the windows. “It’s Claudia Winters,” she said, feeling oddly as though she was stepping into another world, with no knowledge of where she might land. “I got your message. It’s possible I could help you, but I need to know more about . . .”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Andee replied in a rush. “Maybe we could meet at the property so you can see exactly what’s required—and I’ll have to pray you won’t go screaming off into the night when you see what I’m asking for.”
With a smile, Claudia said, “We only arrived in the area a few months ago and I haven’t really set myself up yet, so I don’t have any workers or suppliers, at least not locally.” Could she contact the team she’d used before? No, of course not. Was she out of her mind? “If you’re in a hurry . . .”
“Don’t worry, we can work it out together,” Andee assured her. “I have plenty of contacts, and if you need help sourcing fabrics I can make several suggestions, although I’m sure you’re much better connected in that field than I am.”
Since she wouldn’t have to use her old name when placing orders, Claudia said more confidently, “OK. If you text me the address and a time I’ll be there. I have no other commitments so I can fit in with you.”
“Music to my ears. I’ll do it right away.”
Clicking off the line, Claudia wondered where her mother had gone but didn’t go to look. Instead she walked to the window and rearranged the folds of a gauzy drape. She really didn’t think Andee Lawrence’s call was a trick, something set up by her sister-in-law, but she could no more stop the thought than she could the traffic outside. She scanned the Promenade for familiar faces, but saw only raincoated tourists braving the late September weather and locals going about their business.
“No one’s out there,” Marcy said gently as she came back into the room. “You don’t need to be scared.”
Claudia turned around. “I know,” she replied, and drew a hand down her slender neck as though to relieve the tension, “and one of these days I might stop thinking there is.” She smiled. “It’s not happening as often now.”
It was true, the sense of being followed or watched was no longer as consuming, and she’d even stopped seeing Eugena in the supermarket, coming out of the station, in the café, walking toward her on the beach . . . Women who actually looked nothing like Eugena could morph into her for brief, horrifying moments, but thankfully Claudia was getting this under better control.
It wasn’t quite the same with Marcus, for she still had nightmares about him and his cruelty; awful, terrible scenes of violence and anger that stayed with her after she woke up, that even revisited her during the day. Eugena had known what he was like, and some sadistic part of the woman had actually seemed to enjoy all the terror and misery her brother inflicted. “That’ll be the address,” Marcy said, as a text arrived on Claudia’s phone.
Claudia read the message twice and turned shining eyes to her mother. “She wants to meet later this afternoon,” she declared, surprised by a pleasing rush of eagerness. “She says to bring wellies, an umbrella, and a portfolio of my work.”
With a cry of joy Marcy came to embrace her. “This is going to be your first commission as Claudia,” she stated determinedly. “We should celebrate when you get back. Jasmine’s going to be over the moon.”
Knowing how true that was, Claudia felt another burst of happiness, while thinking of the interior magazines she’d had to leave behind that contained lavish color spreads of her designs. It wasn’t possible to use them, for they connected her to the past. However, she had an impressive PowerPoint presentation on her iPad that didn’t identify her at all. “I should text Leanne Delaney to thank her for suggesting me,” she said, starting to clear the table. “Even if I don’t get the job, it was lovely of her to do that.”
“We could always,” Marcy suggested carefully, “invite her to celebrate with us, if she’s free, and if it happens.”
Claudia tried to picture it, someone else here in the flat, raising a glass with them as if they were friends. It was an exhilarating thought, and she’d certainly warmed to Leanne on the few occasions their paths had crossed.
I can do this, I really can, she told herself as she began collecting everything she was going to need. And by the time she’d lugged it all down to the car her imagination was so busy conjuring a dynamic and fruitful meeting that she didn’t even think to check if anyone was watching her.