Page 24 of Dream Weaver
Claire skipped over to her usual spot near Abby’s anvil. “Oh! Juice! Can I have some?”
Abby shot me another dark look. This one said,For God’s sake, did you not hear what I said yesterday?
Then she followed Claire’s gaze…and froze.
“Sure. I got you your own.” I pointed to the pint-size carton next to my big one. “If it’s okay with your mom, of course.”
I looked at Abby, thinking — but not daring to say —Ha. Gotcha.
“Can I, Mom? Can I?” Claire turned to Abby with big, irresistible eyes — luminous green, just like her mother’s.
Abby stared a moment longer, then nodded curtly. “Just make sure you say—”
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper!” Claire gushed, beating her to it. “Thank you!”
I opened it, handed Claire her carton, and tapped it with mine in a toast. “You’re welcome.”
Claire giggled, making me grin.
“What did you do today, Cooper?”
Nothing,I almost blurted.Your mother didn’t let me.
I settled for “Mostly, I watched your mom work.”
“She’s a really good blacksmith,” Claire agreed, oblivious to my subtext.
Abby caught it, though. I could tell by the sharp look she sent me.
“She is,” I agreed. “That’s why I barely touched any of the fittings while she was gone. I wouldn’t dare. You know, because metal is so fragile.”
Abby rolled her eyes. Claire giggled.
“What didyoudo today?” I changed the subject.
Claire launched into a detailed description of her day while doodling with crayons. I heard all about what she had for lunch, the games she played at recess, the camper trip her friend Casey had taken with her family…
Abby’s phone rang, but she ignored it.
A minute later, it rang again. And again. Cursing, she turned away to take the call.
“Hello?”
A split second later, her body stiffened. “How did you get this number?”
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good.
“I told you not to call me.” Her voice was low and venomous.
Claire looked up.
“Don’t youbabyme, Jay,” Abby hissed.
Claire’s crayon hovered over the paper, and her sunny expression faltered.
Abby stalked out of the workshop, taking the rest of the exchange out of earshot.
I watched her go, then glanced at Claire, who’d gone pale. Shit.
