Page 20 of Clara Knows Best

As they reached the car, Clara said, “The Gila Monster was open this morning?”

“I made that up,” Jesse admitted. “Are you going to tell the Colonel you have a stalker problem?”

“I don’t know,” she said briefly.

“I won’t always be here to save you,” he added virtuously.

The reminder did nothing to improve her mood.

6

By Sunday, Clara had recovered from the bottomless margarita and her OOTD was pretty and feminine and springtimey. She felt like a May queen (in February) in a delicate floral dress with a pale pink ribbon in her dark brown hair.

Of course, when you lived four thousand feet above sea level, you couldn’t wear a short dress in the winter without tall boots and a good coat. But it was springtime in her heart as she went to church with her parents for the first time since her mother’s knee surgery.

Her aunt approached her in the parking lot after Mass and said, “Clara, I completely forgot to bring the cookies. I’m so sorry. I’m going to have Asher drop them off later.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Clara said. “Don’t worry about it. I can pick them up in the morning on my way to work.”

“Or you could come with us now,” her uncle interposed. “Might be some jalapeño quiche in it for you.”

She laughed. “If you’re inviting me to brunch, I accept.”

“I can drive you,” came a deep voice. “Then they won’t need to give you a ride home.”

She looked over her shoulder and was surprised to see Jesse joining their group. He hadn’t been around when they’d left the house, and she hadn’t noticed him inside the church, either, but he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and gray pants.

“Good thinking,” Jim approved. “There’s some quiche in it for you, too.”

“Clara, can I have this dress?” her cousin Lorelei asked her, drawing her attention away from the conversation. “Like, when you’re done with it?”

“No chance.”

“Will you make me one, then? I’m turning seventeen in April.”

“No, are you kidding? It takes weeks to make something like this. What did you get me for my birthday? Oh, right: nothing.”

“Ugh, fine,” Lorelei said good-naturedly. “It’s cute, though.”

“Thanks.” When Lorelei was out of earshot, Clara turned to her uncle and said, “A hundred bucks for a dress like this. That’s a family discount.”

“We’ll take two,” he said promptly, making her laugh again.

“You should ride with Jesse,” Liesl told her, “so you don’t have to squeeze between your cousins. Your mother’s going home to rest, she said, but we’ll send her something.”

“Oh, okay. See you at the house, then.”

The Jim Wilders departed, and Clara was left alone with Jesse. She looked up at him and said after a moment, “Quiche guy, huh?”

“Yes,” he replied, unreadable behind a pair of sunglasses. “I’m so hungry.”

She couldn’t help being amused by the gravely serious delivery. “Do you want me to drive?”

“I’m driving. No music.”

“Okay,” she said agreeably, and he indicated where he had parked her father’s truck.

Once they were on the road, he glanced at her and said, “So, you make dresses, huh?”

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