“I was going to help you,” Sydney said.

Claire looked surprised to find her there. “I can do this. When I hire people, it’s only to help serve. You can relax. I didn’t know if you’d prefer a check or cash, so I went with cash. The envelope is there.” She pointed to the kitchen table.

Sydney paused a moment. She didn’t understand. Wasn’t it a good day? Didn’t they work well together? The ladies at the luncheon loved Claire’s food, and they complimented Sydney on what a nice job she did serving. Sydney had been nervous at first. Back when she waitressed, she used to steal from customers, not giving them back money from their checks. She would smile and flirt and try to smooth things over if they called her on it. And it never hurt that she was usually sleeping with the manager of the establishment, so he would always side with her if the complaint got that far. She could con with the best of them. She’d been worried that serving again might bring that time in her life back to her, might make her want it again. But it didn’t. It felt good to work honestly and hard. It reminded her instead of what was probably the best time in her life, in Boise, when she worked at the salon. She remembered her aching feet and the cramps in her hands and the shorn hair that would get under her clothes and itch and poke her skin. She loved it all.

But now Claire was saying she didn’t need her help anymore. Sydney stood there while Claire continued to work. What was she supposed to do? She would go crazy if she couldn’t do more than just help Claire out every once in a while. Claire didn’t even let her do housework. “Can’t I help you with anything?”

“I’ve got this covered. This is my routine.”

Without another word, Sydney picked up the envelope and walked outside through the back to her Subaru. She leaned against it as she counted the money in the envelope. Claire had been generous. Sydney could go out and do something with this. That’s probably what Claire expected her to do. Put some gas in the car. Go see someone.

But she didn’t have a tag and she might get pulled over.

And there was definitely no one she wanted to see again.

Folding the envelope, she put it in the back pocket of her cutoffs. She didn’t want to go back into the house and watch Claire work, so she walked around the driveway, kicking gravel, which Claire would probably smooth over later with a rake, putting everything back in order.

She walked to the front yard and looked over to Tyler’s house. His Jeep was parked on the curb. Impulsively, she crossed the yard and walked up his steps. She knocked on his door and waited, stuffing her hands deeper into her pockets the longer he took. Maybe he was asleep. That meant she had to go back home.