Sydney shook Tyler’s hand and nodded. “The old Sanderson place. It looks good. It wasn’t blue the last time I saw it. Just a hideous moldy white.”
“I can’t take credit for it. I bought it like that.”
“I’m Sydney Waverley, Claire’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you. I’ll just be going. Claire, if you need me for anything…” He squeezed Claire’s shoulder, then left. She was confused. She didn’t want him to go. Yet of course he couldn’t stay. But now she was alone with Sydney and her quiet daughter, and she had no idea what to do.
Sydney wagged her eyebrows. “He’s hot.”
“Waverley,” Claire said.
“What?”
“You said your last name was Waverley.”
“Last time I checked.”
“I thought you hated the name.”
Sydney shrugged noncommitally.
“What about Bay?”
“Her name is Waverley too. Go play some more, honey,” Sydney said, and Bay ran back to the yard. “I can’t believe how great the house looks. New paint, new windows, new roof. I never imagined it could look so good.”
“I used Grandma Waverley’s life-insurance money to remodel.”
Sydney turned away a moment, ostensibly to watch Tyler climb the stairs to his front porch and then walk into his house. She had stiffened, and it occurred to Claire that this was shocking news to Sydney. Had she really expected to find their grandmother here, alive and well? What was she expecting? “When?” Sydney asked.
“When what?”
“When did she die?”
“Ten years ago. Christmas Eve, the year you left. I had no way to contact you. We didn’t know where you went.”
“Grandma knew. I told her. Say, do you mind if I pull this clunker behind the house?” Sydney knocked on the hood with her fist. “It’s sort of an embarrassment.”
“What happened to Grandma’s old car, the one she gave you?”
“I sold it in New York. Grandma said I could sell it if I wanted to.”
“So that’s where you’ve been, New York?”
“No, I only stayed there for a year. I’ve been around. Just like Mom.”
They locked eyes, and suddenly everything was quiet. “What are you doing here, Sydney?”
“I need a place to stay.”
“For how long?”
Sydney took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t leave Bay here.”
“What?”
“Like Mom left us here. You can’t leave her here.”
“I would never leave my daughter!” Sydney exclaimed, a touch of hysteria tinging her words, and Claire was suddenly aware of all that wasn’t being said, of the story Sydney wasn’t telling. Something big had to have happened to bring Sydney back here. “What do you want me to do, Claire, beg?”
“No, I don’t want you to beg.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Sydney said, forcing the words out, like spitting sunflower-seed shells to the sidewalk, where they stuck and baked in the sun, getting harder and harder.
What was Claire supposed to do? Sydney was family. Claire had learned the hard way that you weren’t supposed to take them for granted. She’d also learned they could hurt you more than anyone else in the world. “Have you had breakfast yet?”