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in the post office had been almost unbearable. She’d hurried to get home to open it and fell in her impatience. How many times did mothers warn their children to slow down and pay attention?
    Claire dunked the teabag up and down in the cup. On the table, the package emitted a heady magnetism. She squeezed a wedge of lemon into the cup, dropped the fruit in a zipper bag and returned it to the refrigerator. She dribbled a little milk in the cup and stirred, looking out the kitchen window. It was still raining so hard the house next door was invisible. She wiped up the drops of lemon juice and milk from the counter and once more gazed down the hallway at the water spots but knew if she got down to clean them up, that’s where Vaughn would find her later.
    Claire cradled the cup in both hands, savoring the warmth oozing through the heavy ceramic, and went to the table. She pulled out the chair, sat and took another sip before allowing her full attention to settle on the plain brown package on the corner of the vinyl tablecloth. The ringing of the telephone brought a muttered curse. For gosh sakes, isn’t there any peace and quiet in this town? She tottered to the wall phone. “Oh, hi, Mamie.”
    “How are you? I heard you took a tumble at the post office.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “You should go for x-rays.”
    “Really, I’m all right, a little stiff perhaps. Did you decide if you’re using Payton’s house for the exhibit?”
    “Yes. What a wonderful thing for her to do. She doesn’t even know me.”
    “It was nice. When are you going to check it out?”
    “She’s invited me over tomorrow. Will you come with me?”
    What a perfect opportunity. Claire had been dying to see the inside of Payton’s house. “Sure, I’d love to.”
    “I’ll call and let you know what time. Go to bed, rest your ankle.”
    “Thanks for checking on me.”
    Claire hobbled back to her chair. She picked up the parcel and tore off the paper. The cover shone in the lamplight, beckoning. Claire ran a hand over the glossy green paper, then brought the book to her nose and sniffed. There was nothing better than the scent of fresh ink. Claire could almost hear the thing say “Open me.” So she did.

Chapter 6
    An hour later, Claire hung up the phone with an ache in the pit of her stomach. Mamie was on her way over to take Claire out for lunch. Her eyes roved to the table, to the brightly colored book beside the damp pile of mail. Speaking of damp. Claire ran a hand over her narrow backside. She’d been so wrapped up in the book she hadn’t even noticed the cotton fabric clinging to her bottom. She pulled the cloth away, but it rippled back in place as if drawn by a magnet. Claire glanced at the ceiling and then at the plastic rooster-shaped clock on the kitchen wall. She sucked in a breath then let it out in an exasperated hiss. All she wanted was a few hours of peace and quiet.
    She searched for a place to hide her treasure. Behind the bread maker? Seemed like she never found time to make bread any more. On top of the refrigerator? No, it’d be just her luck Mamie would show up wanting cookies. Claire finally settled on a spot behind a stack of flowerpots under the kitchen sink, grumbling a little thinking of all the trouble it was to hide something in a house where she lived all alone.
    Claire had a sudden wish that she could move away and restart her life like Payton had. Not to hide from something as Mamie seemed to believe about Payton, but just to begin as another person. She could establish herself as a recluse. People would leave her alone. She wouldn’t have to deal with old memories, wouldn’t have to face her misdeed every single day.
    Who was she kidding? The memory would still be there, lurking in the back of her mind, choking her dreams. She sighed again and poked the paper wrapper deeper into the trash. She wouldn’t always want to be alone. Sooner or later, she’d seek out company and the cycle would begin again.