Page 7 of Clara Knows Best

Clara wondered if her mother was more worried than she had realized about the loss of income. “Can I help get dinner ready?”

“Liesl’s bringing dinner. She was afraid I’d try to cook if she didn’t. You could set the table.”

“She knows you pretty well,” Clara pointed out, opening a drawer and selecting a pale blue paisley tablecloth. “You probably would try to cook.”

“Well, I’m sure I could manage to put something simple together.”

“See?”

“I could have ordered something and had you pick it up.”

“But you wouldn’t have,” Clara teased, spreading the tablecloth with a snap. “You would have hobbled around the kitchen on one foot. Six people?”

“Nine. Asher and the twins are coming.”

“Oh, fun.” Her three youngest cousins were still in high school but had such active social lives that she had not seen much of them lately. She took out a new box of beeswax tapers and counted nine round jute placemats and nine blue and white striped cloth napkins.

“Candlelight and real napkins?” her mother remarked. “Pulling out all the stops.”

Jesse hadn’t been home in years and years. If that didn’t call for cloth napkins, what did? “I just hope Aunt Liesl’s bringing a fatted calf for our boy.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. So…how does he look?”

Clara saw the quiet concern behind the calm brown eyes. She glanced down the hall toward the front door to ensure that they still had privacy, and answered, “Tired. He slept the whole way here. But otherwise, he looked pretty freaking good.”

Dr. Wilder raised her eyebrows. “I thought you grew out of that crush.”

“So did I.” Her phone chimed and she glanced down at it. “Karaoke with Yoli and the girls tonight. Not until eight, though.”

“Don’t forget the science club tomorrow.”

“I know, I won’t forget.”

“Maybe you should take Jesse with you to karaoke.”

“Jesse? I’ll invite him if you want, but he won’t go.”

“You sound pretty sure about that,” Dr. Wilder observed.

“He just seemed tired.”And cranky. And annoyed about being here.

“Care to make it interesting?”

Clara looked at her mother again, surprised. “Like, bet money on it?”

“Sure.”

“You must be really bored,” she realized.

“I haven’t left this house in three weeks,” Dr. Wilder reminded her. “I’ll take what entertainment I can get.”

“All right. I’ll bet you ten bucks he doesn’t go.”

“Make it a cool hundred.”

“A hundred dollars, for real? It takes me all day to earn that kind of money.”

“I know how much you make,” her mother said serenely. “I also know how much you like to shop.”

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