Texas On My Mind. Delores Fossen

predict lots of fudging in my future.”

      Since Livvy seemed excited about his name/career/pigment/fudging combo, Claire was happy for her. Or rather cautiously optimistic. “Is he nice?”

      “Of course. I wouldn’t go out with a grouchy asshole again. Sorry, we’ll work on that word. Anyway, other than his pinkeye, he’s perfect.”

      “Uh, I don’t know a lot about albinos, but I think pink eyes are normal for them.”

      “Not pink eyes,” Livvy quickly corrected. “Pinkeye. He’s using drops for it, though, so it should clear up soon. You really should use this dating site, Claire. It’s the best one yet.”

      She’d rather have pinkeye. “I’m on hiatus from dating. Until I get Ethan potty trained.” Of course, there was no correlation. None. But thankfully it was an argument that always worked with Livvy.

      “So, making any progress getting the house ready to sell?” Livvy asked.

      Claire wanted to say a hallelujah for the change of topic. “Some. Gran wasn’t a hoarder exactly, but she didn’t throw away much. I’ll keep at it until a new job comes in.”

      “Already got two. Wedding announcement photos. I’ll email you the dates and details.”

      There were clearly more procrastination possibilities on the horizon. It was probably depression over Gran’s death, but Claire felt stuck in Neutral.

      “Oh, and Daniel called the office, looking for you,” Livvy added. “Said his fudging phone died after a software update, and he lost all his sugar, including your phone number.”

      The timing was odd. What with Riley’s arrival back in Spring Hill. Like her, Daniel no longer lived there, but that didn’t mean a gossip or two hadn’t called him in San Antonio with news of Riley’s homecoming.

      Rather than come out and ask that, Claire took the roundabout route. “Did Daniel want anything specific?”

      “Well, I’m guessing he wanted you. I gave him your number, so I figure you’ll get a call from him soon.”

      “Good.” And Claire would be happy to hear from Daniel. Almost. “Gotta go,” she said when Ethan yawned and stomped on one of the cars. “I’ll send you these engagement pictures as soon as I’m done.”

      The moment she ended the call, Claire hit the save button on her files and picked up Ethan. He started to fuss right away. In part because he knew nap time was coming. Also in part because he needed a nap.

      She changed his diaper. Not an easy feat now that the grumpy boy had emerged. Still, she loved grumpy boy just as much as the other boys that materialized throughout the day. Ethan had her heart. And the little sugar knew it.

      “No getting up,” she warned him when she put him in his crib.

      He was quickly outgrowing it. Outgrowing naps, too. And it wouldn’t be long before he really would be ready for potty training.

      Her baby was growing up so fast.

      Not that she would miss the whole diapering thing and having him test his aiming skills by trying to pee in her eye. She’d convinced herself that it was a labor of love. But it was also time when she had Ethan close and he wasn’t running away from her.

      Plus, she’d lose that excuse she kept giving to Livvy about not dating.

      Since Ethan might or might not obey that no-getting-up part and since he might try to climb out of the crib again, Claire knew she’d need to spend at least fifteen minutes with him while he fell asleep. No use wasting that time, so she went into the hall to bring one of the cardboard boxes into the makeshift nursery with her. She had plenty of boxes to choose from. At least thirty that she’d already dragged down from the attic or found in the back of her gran’s closet.

      There’d been spiders involved.

      Something that made her shiver just thinking about it.

      The various cousins had already gone through the house and taken items of furniture and such that they’d wanted. Which wasn’t nearly enough to clear out the place. Every room, every corner was still crammed with bits and pieces that reminded Claire of the woman who’d raised her. The woman she’d loved.

      Damn it.

      The tears came. They always did whenever she thought of Gran.

      God, she missed her.

      Opening the box wouldn’t help, either, but going through whatever was inside was the next step to getting the house ready to go on the market. Claire wasn’t exactly strapped for cash. Yet. But her savings had dwindled considerably what with all the time she’d taken off to be with Ethan.

      She didn’t regret that time off, not for a second, but she didn’t have the comfortable financial pad that she needed. Since Gran had left her the house free and clear, anything Claire got from the sale would be hers to keep.

      She put the box on the floor, glanced over at Ethan. Still not asleep, but his eyelids were getting droopy.

      The tape holding the box was so old that it gave way with a gentle tug, and Claire opened the flap. Checked for spiders.

      Nothing scurried out at her.

      So she began the sorting. She’d set aside another area at the end of the hall to deal with the contents of each box. One pile for stuff to keep. Another for items to be donated. A final one for trash.

      She’d yet to put anything in the trash pile.

      Not a good sign.

      Of course, it was probably wishful thinking on her part that a charity group would want copies of old magazines and newspapers, panties with shot elastic and mismatched socks. This box was pretty much the same. Magazines from the 1980s. More newspapers. A Gerber baby food jar filled with buttons. Another had sequins. There were some Mardi Gras beads, though Claire couldn’t recall Gran ever mentioning a trip to New Orleans.

      And then Claire saw the old photo of Riley’s parents—Betsy and Sherman.

      More bittersweetness.

      Claire had been in the car with them the night they’d died. Still had both the physical and emotional scars from it. It’d been pouring rain, and they’d given her a ride from the high school basketball game where the Spring Hill Mavericks had won by eleven points. Daniel was away visiting his sick aunt and had missed the game. Riley had stayed behind to be with Misty. Anna was home studying. Logan was on a date. And Lucky was at a rodeo.

      She remembered all those little details. Every last one of them. The knock-knock joke that Mr. McCord had told just before the crash. Mrs. McCord’s laughter at the lame punch line. The Alan Jackson song playing on the radio. The way her band uniform was scratching against her skin. But Claire couldn’t remember the accident itself.

      Sometimes she would recall a blur of motion from the red car that’d plowed into them. But Claire was thankful that it stayed just a blur.

      She put the picture aside—definitely a keeper—and moved on to the next items in the box. Desk calendars. At least a dozen of them stacked together. They were freebies that an insurance company had sent Gran, but there was a handwritten note on the first one she looked at. January 5.

      Enroll Claire in school.

      She checked the year, not that she didn’t already know. Claire had been five years old. And two days earlier her mother had left her at Gran’s house. Dumped her, really, not even taking the time to say goodbye. If her mother had known it would be a real goodbye, that in a year she’d be dead, maybe she would have said a proper farewell.

      At least that’s what Claire liked to tell herself.

      The ache came. The one that crushed her heart and had her eyes burning with tears that she refused to cry. Never had, never would shed a tear over her worthless excuse for a mother. Claire pushed it all aside. Not her bridge, not her water. Not anymore.