Page 115 of Clara Knows Best

“I hate to be the wet blanket,” Liesl finally said. “But I haven’t stayed up this late in about ten years.”

They left the club together and paused outside. “We’re parked down that way,” Clara told him. “What about you?”

“I walked from my place,” he said, indicating the opposite direction. “Didn’t feel like fighting for a space.”

“It did take us a while to find one,” she admitted. “Do you want us to drop you off?”

“No, I want to walk.”

“Okay,” she said, studying him. He didn’t really look better than when he’d come in, but at least he didn’t look worse. A good night’s sleep would probably help, if he could get one. “Don’t get mugged.”

“No, ma’am.”

“You should come to Hart’s for breakfast tomorrow,” Liesl told him. “I’m making Eve’s favorite: chicken and waffles. Are you an early riser?”

“For chicken and waffles I am,” he answered, surprising Clara.

“Great,” her aunt said pleasantly. “Clara can text you the address. We’ll see you at nine?”

“Sure.” He bumped Clara’s arm with his elbow. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Money well spent,” she joked.

He didn’t smile, but he gave her a wry look.

“Well, what did you think?” she asked, as the women climbed into Liesl’s SUV.

“He looks just how I remember,” Eve replied.

But Clara knew Liesl would understand that she was referring back to the conversation they’d had over lunch.

“I think your dad’s right,” her aunt replied.

47

Jesse woke up feeling so refreshed that he texted Harry after his shower and told him he’d found a doubles partner. Harry replied enthusiastically with a time and location.

Jesse didn’t want to think too much about why he’d done it or whether he should’ve. He shoved a change of clothes into a bag and drove over to Hart’s without even stopping for coffee.

The guy at the front desk in Hart’s swanky building glanced at his ID and said that he was on “Mr. Wilder’s list” of approved guests, which meant he could go right up without waiting for permission from the occupants.

It was Liesl who let him in. “Eve is still asleep, and Clara’s swimming,” she informed him. “You’re welcome to join her. Hart probably has a dozen suits.”

“No, thanks,” he said, refusing to consider the prospect of Clara in swimwear. “I’d rather have coffee.”

“Oh, then come right this way,” she invited. “We can talk about your intentions for my niece.”

He reflected ruefully that he should have expected as much. Clara’s sweet little aunt was another “total softie” like the Colonel.

“So whatareyour intentions?” she asked, as he took a seat at the bar.

“Tennis.”

She gave him a disbelieving look as she poured his coffee. “That’s it?”

“In this universe? That’s it.”

“What about in other universes?” she asked, unfazed.

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