Page 55 of Clara Knows Best

Apparently it wasn’t cool to mention a man’s braces.

“He didn’t even know I went to college,” Clara told them. “He thought I was a beauty school dropout.”

Beck and Nash instantly put the phrase to music, making Jesse think it was probably a real song he’d never heard before.

“I’m sorry for assuming that you’d peaked in high school,” he said, and grinned at her disgruntled expression.

“I could kind of see it, though,” Hart admitted.

“Dad!” Clara yelled.

“Shut up, Hart,” came her father’s voice from across the house.

“Yeah, Hart,” Clara said, mollified. Then she looked directly at Jesse and said, “But Hart’s right that it’s not your fault. Sure, you dated the wrong girl. But Mom and Dad should haveat leasttalked to you in person. Hart should have called that woman’sbluff and gotten arrested. I should have invited you to my party and then tracked you down like a dog if you didn’t show up.”

Hart didn’t disagree.

“So why didn’t we do it?” Clara wondered, looking genuinely perplexed. “Why the heck were we giving him space? We’re not a give-you-space kind of family.”

“No, you’re not,” Jesse agreed dryly, thinking of her campaign to sell him on the cabin.

Clara looked amused. “Now, don’t you be rude,” she chided. “I know what’s best for you, that’s all.”

“Tell us the answer, spirit gardener,” Nash petitioned humbly.

“Maybe it’s for the same reason he didn’t reach out to us,” she guessed. “Maybe on some level, we’d been expecting it. Maybe we were insecure about not being his bio family.”

Jesse felt his eyebrows lift. “Jealous of my messed-up family?”

She and Hart exchanged glances. Hart began to nod. “Yeah,” Clara said.

18

The sun reflecting off the snow outside made artificial light wholly unnecessary. Clara shielded her eyes from the glare as she entered the kitchen. “Wow, that’s bright, huh?”

“Makes you glad you don’t have a hangover, huh?” Beck retorted.

“No kidding,” she said, easing into a chair.

“I’m making you French toast,” Nash told her.

“Aw, for real?” she asked, touched.

“Yep. Ready in about three minutes. It would be four minutes, but the pre-cracked eggs are saving me a bunch of time.”

“Great.” She gave Jesse a thorough once-over. Like her father, and unlike the rest of them, he was already dressed for the day, though it looked like he hadn’t shaved. He narrowed his eyes at her, no doubt suspicious of her scrutiny, so she set her elbow on the table and offered him her hand in the universal language of an arm wrestler.

He responded instinctively, picking up the gauntlet, and as they clasped hands she tested the pliability of her opponent. Hedidn’t budge; she pushed harder, with the same effect. He was immovable.

“Just warming up,” she explained.

“Making me nervous,” he said, his voice a little rough from lack of use.

“Go,” she said.

“I’m going.”

But she couldn’t push him past the midpoint, and he didn’t push her at all; he just played defense. And then, unbelievably, she started to gain a little traction, and Jesse’s eyes widened in surprise.

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