Chapter 9
Flowers grow back, even after they are stepped on. So will I.
—Unknown
Claire tried to explain to the hotel manager that she had a good reason to disrupt the magician’s act, but before she could say much, Jim Turner burst into the office, Sophie trailing behind him.
He pointed at Claire. “That woman should be banned from the conference. She’s done nothing but stir up trouble, all day long.”
“Banned? Me?!” Claire tried to stand up, but the security guard had a hand on her shoulder and pressed her back down onto the chair.
“And no matter what MaryBeth said about your amazing flower skills, I will not hire you.”
MaryBeth said that? Even in the chaos, it was a nice compliment to hear. Claire scoffed. “I would never consider working for Turner Flowers.”
“Then you’d better start looking for a job.”
Hold on. “What does that mean?”
Jim Turner flashed her that odd smile again. “Because MaryBeth is selling Same Day Delivery to Turner Flowers. She hoped I’d get to know you during this conference so you could keep your job, but there’s no way I would ever let you set foot in any of my shops.” He took a few steps to the door, then stopped and turned around, snapping his fingers in the air. “After I spread your name around Savannah, no one will hire you. How’s that for a magic trick?”
He disappeared down the hall, but Sophie remained at the doorjamb. “Don’t you worry, sugar. I’ll go tell him that you were only having a little hissy fit.”
“But I wasn’t!” Claire’s voice rose an octave. Didn’t matter. Sophie was gone.
The hotel manager turned wearily to Claire with long-suffering in his voice. “Now, what exactly happened?”
Before Claire could get started, the desk phone rang and the hotel manager answered it. He listened, sighed deeply, and said, “I’ll be right there.” He left his office without another word.
Claire gave a sideways look at the security guard, a stout man with extravagant gray eyebrows. “I think I’ll just be off then.”
Unfortunately, he took his work far too seriously. “Not a chance. Police are on their way.”
“Seriously?” She was just about to list her objections when she saw Ivan the Illusionist standing at the open door in full magician’s garb.
He took a step inside the office and put a hand on the security guard’s shoulder. “Would you mind if I speak to this woman alone?”
The security guard shook his head. “I need to stay. She’s exhibited dangerous behavior.”
“Dangerous?” Claire’s jaw dropped. “I threw donut holes at him!”
The security guard lifted his bushy eyebrows. “Scuffles always start small. They escalate from there.”
“To what?” Claire said. “Cream puffs?”
Ivan lifted a hand. “I’ll take full responsibility. You can stay right outside the door if you like. I’d just like to speak to her before the police arrive.”
The security guard gave that some serious thought, helped along after Ivan slipped him a twenty-dollar bill. “I reckon it’d be okay.” But he walked over to the hotel manager’s desk and made a show of confiscating scissors, a stapler, and sharpened pencils, as if Claire had already staked out her next weapon. Holding everything against his round belly, he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll be right outside that door.”
As the door closed, there was a heavy quiet that filled the room. Ivan took off his hat, his mask, then his beard, and set them on the desk.
Yep. It was him. Christopher Reid.
Chris sat in the hotel manager’s chair, facing her. Appraising her. “Wow. You look great, Claire. Really, really good.”
In spite of herself, a spiral of pleasure started in her. She didn’t look her best tonight, but she was definitely better looking than she had been in high school. Over the years, she’d lost weight as she gained a daily habit of exercising, and she’d finally found a hairstylist who knew what to do with wild, curly hair. “And you ... you look like an old man.”
“Yeah. My agent suggested it.”
He had an agent? Claire had to swallow a smile as this thought ran through her head: He has an agent who booked him gigs like this one? Sad!
Reading her mind (something he’d always been good at), he said, “My agent’s brother-in-law runs these customer service conferences. He customizes them for specific industries. Tonight’s was flowers. Tomorrow night, I’ll be in Charleston at a grocery clerk rehab conference.” He shrugged. “Steady work. Attentive audiences. Interesting travel. Good money. Can’t complain.”
“And better than jail.” That was snarky.
Chris ignored her. He leaned his elbows on the desk, clasping his hands together. “So have you been in Savannah for the last seven years?”
She nodded.
“I’ve looked everywhere for you. I even contacted your dad.”
Did he? Her dad had never told her. “He knew not to let you know where I was.”
“He told me you were safe and you were happy.”
Good for Dad.
“Are you happy, Claire?”
She took in a sharp breath. She hadn’t expected that. Not from Chris. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer him. What business was it of his, anyway? He’d lost the right to know anything years ago. “Why should it matter?” she said, tapping her fingers on her knees in a poor facsimile of nonchalance.
His eyes, beneath his fake gray eyebrows, grew soft and tender. “It matters to me if you’re happy. It’s always mattered.”
Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. He had certainly fooled her once, but she wasn’t nearly as trusting or naive as she’d been when she was seventeen. Not anymore. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, growing impatient. “If that’s what you came to say, then you said it. Feel free to leave and let Barney Fife back in.”
Chris leaned back, as if to convey that he was doing the questioning here. “I can press charges, you know. Assault and battery. Disturbing the peace. Disorderly conduct.”
She slapped her hands on her knees. “Donut holes!”
“Beignets. And they were stale. They hurt! And I have plenty of witnesses out there to corroborate the facts.”
“Then just go ahead and press charges. Let someone else take the blame, like you always do.”
He gave her a sharp look. A long moment passed before he said in a quiet voice, “Things aren’t always the way they seem.”
She coughed a laugh. “Says the magician.”
“I can say it because I am a magician. That’s what I love best about magic. It can shock people into realizing there’s more going on than they know.”
“Unless you know the magician’s tricks. Then you’re only disappointed.”
“So the end of my show disappointed you?”
“What? The come-to-Jesus moment? Was that the spiel you used to buy a ‘get out of jail free’ card?”
“It’s not a spiel.” He spoke firmly. “I use my performances to share my faith.”
Right. She wasn’t buying it. She’d always known him to be the kind of guy who could talk the spots right off a leopard. “I’ll bet you change each show to suit your audience.” He probably had magic tricks for every belief system. He was that clever. That shrewd. That much of a chameleon.
He took in a deep breath and let it out. “Claire, you think the only view is your view. But there are other ways of seeing things. Maybe what you see isn’t the whole story.”
“I know what I saw seven years ago at Rose’s.”
He lifted his chin and looked her straight in the eyes. “You think you know.”
She stared back at him.
He exhaled, like he could see he wasn’t convincing her of anything. “You should go to Sunrise. Go see Rose. Talk to her.”
“I will never go back. Neither will Jaime or Tessa. You ruined it for us. You burned the whole town down.”
“The fire burned Rose’s shop and damaged the two buildings on either side. I didn’t burn the whole town down.” He held her gaze with a stubbornness that surprised her. “And I didn’t have a ‘get out of jail free’ card. I spent a year in a state prison. That time changed me.”
Did it? She wondered.
He sensed her skepticism. “God picked me up and set me on solid ground. And I thank him for it every day.” He crossed his arms against his chest. “Jaime’s come back. She’s working at Rose’s.”
“No she is not.”
“Yes she is so.” A slight smile tugged at his lips. “You don’t know everything, Claire Murphy.”
“I know what I know.”
“Do you? Because I think you just know what you think you know.”
For one brief moment, they were bantering the way they used to.
He lifted one eyebrow. “So how did I walk on water?”
She shrugged. “Every magic trick has an explanation. You taught me that.”
“Yep. You were a quick study. Best assistant I’ve ever had.”
Do not look at him, she told herself. Don’t do it. She kept her eyes on the top of the desk. She refused to get sucked back into his charms. She’d been down that road before, and it took a long, long time before she felt like herself again. He was the reason she had a habit of dating guys a few times, then ghosting them. Trust issues. She didn’t trust herself. Clearly, she had terrible judgment about men.
“So what’s the explanation?”
She wasn’t entirely sure. “Your shoes. Clear heels?”
He lifted his foot in the air so she could see his shoe for herself. “Nope.”
“Was there a top to the tray?”
He shook his head.
No, she hadn’t thought so. Water sloshed as he nearly tumped over.
“Sometimes, the simplest explanation is the correct one.”
Right.He had taught her that too. But she couldn’t quite figure out this trick.
“See? You don’t know everything.” He was enjoying this ... too much.
“I know that you chose Tessa over me.” That seemed to put the damper on him.
His eyes sobered. “I suppose it might have seemed like I chose Tessa over you.”
“It was my birthday. You were holding her in your arms on my birthday. I saw you! Don’t deny it.” Claire had always felt a twinge of jealousy over Tessa’s God-given looks. Every guy in high school drooled over her. Truly drooled. Faces went slack, mouths hung open. Jaime and Claire called Tessa a male magnet. They said it in a teasing way, but there was truth behind it. And envy.
He let out a sigh. “I’m not denying anything. Whatever you saw, it didn’t mean I didn’t care for you. I did. I still do.” He picked up his hat and beard and mask and went to the door. “You know, Claire, it’s not such a bad thing to get to a point where you realize life isn’t working out very well on your own. To know you need Christ.”
As his hand reached the doorknob, she said, “Do not tell Rose or Jaime how to find me. Promise me.”
He turned to face her. He was silent while he mulled this over. “Can I ask why?”
“No, you can’t.” She wasn’t a teenager anymore. She’d learned a lot about life in the last seven years. And she didn’t want Chris to be the one who set things in motion for her. If she ever did go back to Sunrise to face Rose, she wanted to be the one to do it. “The least you can do is to honor my request.”
Such a sad look came over him that she had to look away. Her resolve to remain aloof and detached was melting faster than ice cream in a Savannah heat wave.
“Claire, I am sorry I hurt you. I am truly, truly sorry.”
She had to look away.
“You should go home to Sunrise. Go home or...”
She jerked her hand up and narrowed her eyes. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll reconsider pressing charges for battery and assault.” He lifted a finger in the air. “Maybe ... aggravated assault.” He bent slightly, like he was almost bowing goodbye to her. “One more thing. Happy birthday, Claire.”
If she had more donut holes, she would’ve pelted him.