We headed downstairs when it was time for her to leave, both of us lingering in the hallway for just a few minutes longer. It was so easy to be alone with Connie that when we parted ways I swore she took a little part of me with her. I opened the door reluctantly and let her step outside, but just before she turned to leave the kitchen door behind me opened and Claire stepped out, sleeves rolled up, hair ruffled.

“I didn’t know you were home.”

“I got in a while back, heard you talking upstairs so decided I wouldn’t disturb you.” She gestured to Connie, standing on the porch. “I figured this must be the famous Ms. O’Reilly I’ve heard so much about.”

I blushed profusely, shooting her a look. Connie merely grinned. “That’s me,” she said, reaching forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Ryan.”

“You might as well call me Claire. Everyone else does.” She shook her hand warmly, though I noticed the smile she wore didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Alex hasn’t stopped talking about you, you know.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Is it safe for you to walk home on your own so late? I can drop you on home if you’d like.”

“No, no, not at all. It’s honestly fine.” Connie smiled again, touching my arm as she stepped back out. “It was nice to meet you, Claire.”

“Take care, Connie.”

We bid her goodbye, watching her walk away until she was out of sight. I followed Claire back into the kitchen and took a seat at the table as she headed back over to the counter.

“Want a hammer to go with that?” I asked as two pots clanked down on the floor. “Jesus, what are you doing?”

“I was gonna make some beans.”

“And you need to refurbish the kitchen to achieve that? Take it easy, for the love of Christ.”

“You want any?”

“Nah, I had dinner earlier.”

Claire fumbled around in the press until she pulled out the weighing scales. Weighing scales? For beans—“So. That was Connie, huh?”

I tapped my fingers against the table. “Yeah.”

“She seems like a nice girl.” She set the scales down on the counter and turned around. “Very polite.”

“And?”

“It’s just an observation.”

I frowned at her. “You’re thinking something else. You’re making a face.”

She shook her head. “No, no—I’m just…concerned, is all.”

My favorite thing about Claire was hard to decide upon. I loved her humor, her easy-going outlook. I loved that she respected my space and granted me far more independence than I deserved. But I would later realize it was her openness I loved the most. Claire never hesitated to share exactly what she thought. “Concerned? Why?”

“You’ve never been one for friends. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. And now all I ever hear is Con this and Con that.” She threw me a pointed look. “She seems nice, of course. I’m sure she is. I just…I found a packet of cigarettes on the counter the other day. And they weren’t mine.”