The Plan (21 page)

“Yes,” said Alison. “And many of us would like to forget we do.”

Everyone laughed and the tension Claire had felt, as thick as gravy, dissipated.

“Can I sit now?” She posed the question to Frank.

“Of course,” he said, putting his hand on the back of her chair.

“Well,” Wyatt called out. “I, for one, am pleased as punch you'll be travelin' with us. If you ever need anythin', you just let ol' Wyatt, here, know about it.”

“Why,” Mitch said, “I think Wyatt has a little schoolgirl crush.”

The team laughed.

“Mitch, I wouldn't be goin' and cornerin' anything bigger than you.”

Mitch raised his hands as if he was putting them up to fight. Wyatt took his right arm and swooped it through the air as if he'd knocked Mitch across the side of his head.

Alison, seeming oblivious to the men's antics, turned her attention back to Claire and asked her what television shows she enjoyed.

“Most of the places have horrible television shows. At least,
I
think they're horrible. I do, though, enjoy the British ones when we go to the U.K. Thank heavens for Netflix, Hulu and the ability to download movies and TV series to our tablets!”

“Alison is addicted to
Scandal,”
said Mitch. “I refuse to watch it so she's feeling you out to see if you'll be her new TV buddy.”

“I've never seen it before.”

“It's awesome,” Alison said, the same exact second Mitch moaned, “It's dreadful.”

“It's nothing but corruption, lies, sex and murder,” Mitch said, his voice oozing disgust.

“I know.
It's incredible,” Alison said dreamily.

Claire couldn't help but smile at the couple, so similar to Jack and her when they were young and newly married. They'd never agreed on the same television programs, either. But Claire hadn't really minded. She'd been so happy to lie next to Jack during his tedious History Channel marathons. When she'd reach her ultimate boredom limit, she'd find contentment by throwing herself into a good book.

“Well, I can check it out,” Claire said. “But I'm not sure I'll know what's going on.”

‘That's okay. The entire series is on Netflix. I'll totally get you caught up.”

The rest of the meal was like the
Scandal
conversation, full of laughter and smiles and teasing and witty banter. Claire couldn't remember the last time she'd so enjoyed spending time with a group of people. She didn't contribute much to the conversation, but she was happy to sit back, listen and observe the interaction between the others. She found it to be a good way of getting to know each of them, seeing how they related to one another.

Every once in a while, she'd look up and see Callum still staring at her. He hadn't said much, either, during the entire meal. He'd simply sat at the end of the table, eating his meal slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on her. If she met his gaze, he smiled, but didn't attempt to begin conversation.

She noticed Mitch had cut Callum's food when it arrived and Callum hadn't seemed embarrassed by this in the least. Once the meat was cut, however, Callum fed himself and seemed completely self-sufficient from that point on.

“Hey, Claire, you can get back to the hotel on your own, right? Mitch and I are going to go for a walk,” Alison asked as they stood after dinner.

“Of course! Have fun.”

Alison waved to Claire as she took Mitch's hand and they left the restaurant.

Claire reached to the back of her chair to lift her purse.

“Are you ready for this new adventure?”

“Oh, you startled me. I didn't see you there,” Claire said to Callum, who suddenly appeared behind her. “I think so. Frank's been really great. Very patient with me. I haven't sung in front of anyone in years, but I think I'll be okay.”

“You'll be more than okay. If you're nervous, just look my way. I'll be right off stage and I'll wink. There's magic in my wink.”

“Oh, is there?” Claire said, a bit of teasing in her voice.

“That's what the ladies tell me.”

“I'll bet they do. Okay, I'll remember that,” Claire said, running her fingers up and down the strap of her bag. “I'd better get to bed. Long day ahead of us tomorrow. It was nice to see you again.”

“Me, too. I'm looking forward to spending more time together.”

Claire stopped fiddling with the strap of her bag and rested it on her shoulder. “Bye, everyone,” she said to Frank and Wyatt, still at the table finishing their nightcaps. “Good night, Callum.”

As Claire walked out of the restaurant, she felt her face flush. She wasn't sure what had happened during that brief encounter with Callum, but if the sudden racing of her heart was any indication, something surely had.

Callum intrigued her, though she knew very little about him. She'd meant to read more about him online before she left Florida, but had been so busy with preparing to leave, she'd run out of time. His disability was obvious. It was too “in-your-face” to ignore. He'd written
a few books, and though she'd hope to pick up copies to read on the plane, she'd never managed to get around to doing that, either.

But other than those things, and the information he'd provided about himself during the seminar she'd attended, his life was a mystery to her. She was curious to find out how he got by in a world designed for people with four limbs. How did he navigate foreign countries? And planes? And subway stations with no elevators? He had such a contagious smile. How did he keep it on his lips, despite
everything?
Did he have a family of his own? She didn't think so or it would have probably come up by now.

She wondered if he had a girlfriend.

Her steps picked up nervously.
Where had that thought come from?

Wouldn't any woman wonder about Callum's love life? He had a stunning face. Many women would be attracted to those eyes. But then there was the rest of him. How would the whole process of loving a man like him work?

Ashamed of herself for invading his personal life, even if it was only in her own head, Claire walked faster.

Callum's love life was none of her business, but much of the rest of his life was. The two of them, along with four others, would be working closely together from this point on. She'd get to know them and the intricate details of all their lives.

If any of the romantic details of Callum's life popped up, then great.

Or if they never came up, that was fine, too.

It was really none of her business.

That was what she kept telling herself as she unlocked the door to her hotel room and undressed for the night. Callum was her new boss. She had no business thinking about his personal life. It was wrong on so many levels.

And yet, as she closed her eyes and began to fall asleep, she couldn't seem to push away the image of him staring at her. He hadn't looked
at her the way a boss looks at his new employee. He hadn't observed her out of curiosity, the way you watch someone you've never met before.

His stare hadn't been like that. It had been something completely different.

As Claire drifted off to sleep, she realized what had been nagging at her all night.

Callum had stared at her the way a man stares at a woman.

And, more than that, she recognized she'd wanted to stare back.

Claire stood completely still as she scrutinized herself in the mirror. She looked nice. Professional. The new haircut she'd gotten right before she left Florida was flattering to her face, the face that was so much thinner than it had been two years ago. But, it wasn't gaunt anymore. She no longer had circles under her eyes. Whereas a short six months or so ago, she'd looked as if she might be on the verge of visiting her maker, she looked a little more alive now. She wasn't doing any jigs yet. Her face wasn't flushed with excitement and enthusiasm and life. But, she did look like she was alive, and that was something.

Baby Steps.
Isn't that what Callum had said when she first heard him speak? That's what she was taking today.

She and Frank had spent the morning rehearsing again. It felt so good to sing. Before Luke's birth, Claire had been on the cusp of a respectable music career. Upon graduating with a degree in voice, she'd gone on a number of auditions and been successful enough to earn some pretty great music gigs. She regularly performed in upscale clubs and restaurants. She'd even opened for Striker Lewis, a well-known musician from Miami. It wasn't the big leagues yet, but she'd felt as if she were headed that way. Her one big dream in life had been to have a singing career. Singing was the thing she could really do, ever since she was a little girl when her parents would have dinner parties and say, “Come on, Claire, sing everyone a song.” Her parents' friends would clap and cheer and Claire, even at age
eight, knew this is what she was meant to do. This was where she belonged.

A relatively well-known music producer, who happened to be in Miami when Claire was opening for Striker, heard Claire sing and offered her a music contract. Claire and Jack had been beside themselves with excitement. They'd gone out to celebrate the night Claire signed, certain this was going to be Claire's big break. She'd spent the next year working on that album, convinced it was going to project her up to the stars. Sadly, she never got much further than the trees.

The album was met with a lukewarm response. She received some respectable reviews but, mostly, the Tuesday it launched was not all that different from any other Tuesday in Claire's life. The sales were minimal. It was a tremendous disappointment which Claire took to heart.

“There will be other opportunities. Other albums. Concerts where you can perform,” Jack had said, two weeks later, while they were in the kitchen cooking dinner. “Very few people make it on their first try.”

Claire had shrugged and continued to mash the potatoes, adding extra butter and sour cream because, if she wasn't going to become a famous singer on a world stage, she might as well get fat.

“You're not a quitter, Claire.”

Claire, though, wasn't so sure about that. She'd set her hopes so high, she hadn't even let herself consider the possibility she might fail. She'd thought she had the golden touch.

Jack had hounded Claire to pursue other opportunities, to go on more auditions. For a bit, it seemed as if she might accept a role in the traveling tour of
Les Misérables.
She'd done a little bit of musical theater in college and Jack believed it was the perfect fit for her.

“We'll be apart so much this year, though,” she'd whined to him.

“We can survive a year. I'll fly out to see you whenever I can. It'll be worth it in the long run.”

Claire had begun to think maybe Jack was right. One year of touring. She'd learn so much. Make so many new contacts. Gain so many new skills. Her spirit began to lighten again.

Then, right before she signed her contract, Claire found out she was pregnant.

She couldn't believe it. They hadn't been trying. Though, if she were to be honest with herself, they hadn't exactly been
not
trying, either. She and Jack were lazy. Some nights they used protection and some nights…well, they were so consumed with each other, they'd said, “Screw it.”

And now that's exactly what they were. Screwed. Or at least, Claire's musical career was.

She'd hated to turn down the role, but she'd had no choice. Jack, sensing her disappointment, did his best to console her.

“Next year. You can do it next year.”

But Claire knew next year would never happen. Even though this baby hadn't been planned, he was loved. She might not have been pleased the moment she saw that little plus sign pop up, but once the shock wore off, she knew she wanted this baby, this combination of her and Jack.

She wouldn't be leaving their child so she could tour with a Broadway show. Not next year. Not any year until that baby was grown and out of the house.

Claire's musical career was officially put on the back burner, despite Jack's protests. “You can still do local theater,” he'd say. Or, “Why don't you get a job singing at one of those fancy restaurants downtown?”

She'd smiled and hugged him, appreciating his faith in her, but as the years went by, especially when they added the girls to their family, Claire realized music was no longer her path. Yet, she still longed for some sort of creative channel.

“Play-Doh and popsicle stick art just aren't cutting it for me,” she'd
told Jack, one evening, over a glass of iced tea on their back patio. “I need some other outlet—something I can do around the kids' schedules.”

The two of them had spent the entire weekend brainstorming ideas. On Sunday morning, an opportunity arrived on their doorstep.

“Hey, look at this,” Jack had said, his hands holding the Sunday paper.
The Miami Arts and Times Magazine
is looking for freelance writers to interview local musicians and artists.”

Claire had stopped beating the eggs she was preparing for omelets and looked over Jack's shoulder to read the advertisement.

“I could do that,” she said. “I could
totally
do that.”

And she was right. She could.

That job had proven to be a godsend. It had allowed her to utilize the creativity burning within her and given Claire some independence in the form of a paycheck. Not that she needed financial independence from Jack, but there was something about knowing she was contributing monetarily to the family that added a little bounce to her step. She felt better about herself and she knew if she felt good, her children would feel good, too.

She'd completed her last article, a story on how local jazz musicians were paying homage to Miles Davis, the morning of the accident. She hadn't written another one since.