Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Tony wheeled the Jeep into the Shady Inn’s parking lot and braked in front of the entrance. Claire’s spine stiffened as dread curled through her. Up close, the place looked even worse. Paint peeled from the siding in jagged strips, and clusters of dandelions pushed through the gravel like weeds with attitude.
There was only one other vehicle in the lot—an orange station wagon with a Go Hawkeyes bumper sticker and a rusted-out bumper.
“Looks like they need a weekend special,” Claire quipped, trying to hide the tight coil of anxiety twisting in her stomach.
Tony reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know it’s not a Hilton, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Of course he did. Tony was the eternal optimist. Claire, on the other hand, believed in bracing for impact. The second they pulled in, she’d known with icy certainty—nothing about this was going to be fine. She stared through the windshield at what would apparently be her home-away-from-home, and her heart sank all the way to her alligator shoes.
With a sigh of resignation, she opened the door and stepped out.
“It looks better up close,” Tony offered.
She blinked, glancing from the crooked Welcome sign hanging from a thumbtack to the faded gingham curtains flapping behind a cracked window. Had Tony lost his mind—or just his eyesight?
“Oh yes,” she said drily. “Martha Stewart’s been here. I can tell.”
He smiled and pushed open the door, gesturing her inside.
Claire squared her shoulders and stepped through the entry like she was walking into a prison intake.
“Welcome,” called a heavyset man behind the counter. “Need a room tonight?”
Claire forced a smile. “Good afternoon. I’ll take your best room.”
“All our rooms are the same,” the man said cheerfully. “Except you can pick two doubles or a king.”
Claire blinked. A king was their luxury upgrade?
“We’ll take one with a king,” Tony said.
“Good choice,” the clerk said with a wink. “Me and the missus used to sleep on a double. You’re practically on top of each other. Not that that’s all bad.” He grinned at Claire.
“Miss Waters will be staying alone,” Tony said smoothly, voice polite but firm as steel. “I’m Pastor Karelli. I just started over at Grace Community on Elm.”
“Floyd Peeks. Owner.” He shook Tony’s hand, then looked back at Claire. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“This is Claire Waters,” Tony added. “My fiancée.”
“Well, you sure are a pretty little thing,” Floyd said, giving Claire an appreciative once-over.
Tony’s hand closed more firmly on her arm. Claire smiled tightly. “Would it be possible to see the room first?”
“Shore thing.” Floyd grabbed a set of keys from a nail and hollered, “Honey, watch the front! I’ll be back in a few.”
A woman’s voice mumbled something over a blaring TV. Floyd led them back outside without another word.
Claire’s last sliver of hope vanished as they stepped into the room.
It was clean—barely—but a musty odor hung in the air. The bathroom sink and tub both had rust stains around the drains. One of the light bulbs flickered. Claire gave the space a once-over and silently mourned everything her life used to be.
She followed Tony and Floyd back to the front desk, Tony’s arm warm around her shoulders. This is only temporary , she told herself. Just until Daddy cooled off.
A few weeks, tops.
She thought back to her greatest hits: the totaled Mercedes in high school had taken two weeks of exile. The sorority cruise prank? Almost a month. In the grand scheme, this latest “misunderstanding” would surely blow over.
Maybe she’d call him tonight. She could tell a lot by the tone of his voice. And plot accordingly.
“Do you want the room?” Floyd asked.
Claire looked up. “Okay.”
Resigned, she reached into her purse and withdrew her platinum Visa. At least Daddy hadn’t taken that before she left. He’d threatened to, of course—talked about her free ride ending—but then he got a phone call, and she’d made her exit.
“That’ll be forty-five fifty, including tax.”
She handed him the card, trying not to cringe. Forty-five-fifty, and she was already over budget.
“I won’t be long,” Floyd said, disappearing into the back. “Mother’s got the card machine.”
Claire leaned toward Tony. “His mother ? She must be ancient.”
Tony chuckled. “I think he means his wife.”
“Oh, please. ”
“No, seriously.”
“You don’t expect me to believe he calls his wife Mother ?”
“Some men do.”
“Well, mine won’t.”
Floyd returned with a solemn face and a pair of orange-handled scissors. “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem.”
Claire’s stomach dropped. “What kind of problem?”
“Visa didn’t like your card,” Floyd said. “Said the account was closed.”
“That’s not possible.”
“They told me to cut it up.”
“No—!”
Before she could stop him, snip . Her card fell to the counter in two pieces.
“Why would you do that?” Claire shrieked. “It was obviously a mistake!”
“They told me to cut it,” Floyd said. “So I did.”
Claire stared at the shredded card, heart pounding. He closed the account. Her father had done it. Her vision flashed back to his face the night she left—red with rage, voice low and furious.
“If you’ve got another card, I can try that,” Floyd offered.
Claire hesitated. No cash. No plastic. No options.
She turned slowly to Tony and raised a brow.
He looked torn. “Mr. Peeks, could you give us a minute?”
Floyd gave a knowing nod and stepped into the back.
Claire exhaled, cheeks burning. “Do you have any money you could lend me?”
“I would in a heartbeat,” he said. “But I used the last of my savings to move here. I get paid at the end of the month, but?—”
“You don’t have to explain.” She waved him off. “You’re broke. I’m broke. Got it.”
She walked to the window and stared out at the sad little motel. Last week, she’d spent more than this night’s rent on lunch—and now she couldn’t afford to sleep here.
“Life is not fair,” she muttered.
“No, it’s not.”
She turned and caught the hint of laughter in his eyes.
“You think this is funny ?”
He coughed, failing to hide a grin. “Not exactly. But think about it—you're holding a two-hundred-dollar Coach purse, and I’ve got a thirty-thousand-dollar Jeep. And together we can’t afford one night at the Shabby Inn.”
She let out a laugh. It bubbled up from deep inside, surprising her. “Forty-five-fifty.”
“Including tax,” Tony added, grinning.
They laughed until their sides ached, tears spilling down their cheeks. The tension that had wrapped tight around her chest finally began to loosen.
“What am I going to do?” she asked softly, swiping her eyes.
“God will provide,” he said gently. “But in the meantime—how about some ice cream? I think I have enough for that.”
“Ice cream?” She checked her watch. “It’s almost dinner.”
“Afraid I’ll spoil my supper, Mother ?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Mother,” he teased, dimple flashing.
Claire stepped in close, eyes narrowed. “You’re going to pay for that.”
He looked down at her, dark eyes warm. “What do you have in mind?”
She tilted her chin, her breath quickening. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He lowered his head.
“Have you two decided?—?”
Tony jerked back. Claire turned, her face flushed, to see Floyd standing in the doorway.
Color crawled up the man’s neck. “Go ahead. I mean—take your time.”
Tony slipped his arm around her waist. “We’re going to grab something to eat first. Claire can decide after that.”
Claire smiled at him, her heart still racing. “Maybe I’ll stop back later.”
“Nice meeting you,” Floyd said, flustered. “Reverend. Ma’am.”
Claire gave a little wave. “Maybe I’ll see you in church.”
Floyd shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”
Tony held the door for her, and they stepped into the fading light.
“Have we even decided where we’re going?” she asked as they reached the Jeep.
Tony just smiled.
“You’re serious? Ice cream?”
His dimple deepened. “Now, Mo?—”
She silenced him the only way she could think of—by grabbing his shirt, rising on her toes, and kissing him.
His lips were warm and sure against hers, and when she melted into him, the world disappeared. For a moment, there was no motel, no ruined credit card, no chaos. Just this.
When they pulled apart, Claire ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying to find her balance.
“Wow,” Tony said, breathless. “What was that for?”
“Just a reminder.”
“A reminder?”
“I’m not your mother,” she whispered, voice husky. “Never have been. Never will be. Got it?”
Tony stared at her, something unreadable in his expression.
“Have I ever told you about my learning disability?” he asked.
She blinked. “What learning disability?”
“My memory sometimes fails me.” He grinned, pulling her close. “If I ever call you Mother again, feel free to remind me.”
Claire smiled. “Oh, I will.”
She only hoped he didn’t take too long to slip up.
* * *
Tony gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary as he pulled onto the quiet road leading out of the motel’s lot. The late afternoon sun bathed the pavement in golden light, but inside the Jeep, his thoughts churned in shadow.
Claire had always had that effect on him—disarming and infuriating, stunning and maddening. She hadn’t changed much. Still beautiful. Still unpredictable. Still capable of turning him inside out with a single smile—or a kiss that felt far too real.
He’d meant what he said—he wasn’t worried about his own reputation. But hers? Yeah, he was worried. Because for all her bravado and designer bags, Claire was vulnerable beneath the polish. Lost, maybe. Chasing something she couldn't even name.
And now here she was, tangled up in his new life, his new calling. The last thing he needed. The last thing he wanted.
Except… maybe she wasn’t.
The truth nestled uncomfortably in his chest: he didn’t know what God was doing, bringing her here, now. But Tony had learned not to ignore doors that opened—especially when they came wrapped in complications. Maybe Claire wasn’t a detour.
Maybe she was part of the plan.
He exhaled slowly and turned toward the sunset-streaked horizon.
* * *
“So what are you going to do?” Tony took a bite of his hot fudge sundae, his gaze drifting to Claire.
She dabbed her lips with a napkin after a dainty lick of her vanilla cone. “I’m going to call my father when we get back to Mrs. Sandy’s. See if he’s calmed down.”
Tony didn’t know the full story behind her abrupt exit from Cedar Ridge, but whatever had gone down, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing a single phone call could fix. Still, Claire knew her father. Maybe that was all it would take.
“And then?”
“Then I’ll get ready for the party.” She sipped her soda and gave him a small smile. “Why? Surprised I’m still planning to go?”
“A little,” he admitted.
“Don’t look so shocked. I said I’d go, and I will.” Her tone was breezy, but the smile she gave him was genuine.
“I appreciate it.”
She waved a hand. “My social calendar’s wide open. Even an evening with a bunch of boring church folks sounds appealing at this point.”
“You’ll look fine in whatever you wear,” Tony said gently. He knew she’d been worried about it earlier.
“Ha. I think not.” She tossed the rest of her cone into the metal trash can beside the picnic table and stifled a yawn. “But I’m sure I can find something that’ll pass.”
Tony noticed the faint circles under her eyes. “You never did get your nap.”
“That’s okay.” She lifted her oversized cola cup. “There’s enough caffeine in this to keep me wired through breakfast.”
He smiled. “Remember Nick and Taylor’s engagement party? How we danced until dawn?”
Her expression softened. “What I remember is how glad Taylor was to see you—and how jealous Nick was.”
Tony’s smile faltered. He regretted that chapter more than most. At the time, he’d thought Taylor was making a mistake marrying Nick. What he hadn’t realized—until far too late—was that Claire had only used him to stir up trouble.
She used you then, and she’s using you now. Once she gets what she wants, she’ll be gone.
He pushed the thought aside. “How long do you plan to stay in Millville?”
Claire shrugged, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Depends. On how long it takes Daddy to stop fuming. And how long it takes me to convince him I have a real relationship with you.”
His appetite vanished. He dropped the rest of his sundae into the trash. So he’d been right to be cautious.
“So once your father believes your lie, you’ll be gone.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.
“Don’t go getting all holier-than-thou on me,” Claire snapped, her eyes flashing. “You’re no innocent.”
Tony opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught. She wasn’t wrong. A lie was still a lie, no matter the motive.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell them the truth tonight.”
“You’re what?” Her voice shot up, loud enough to turn heads at the next table.
Tony forced a smile and spoke through his teeth. “Keep your voice down.”
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “I never said you had to come clean. They’ll fire you.”
“Maybe I deserve it.” He looked down, the weight of the lie pressing hard on his chest. All he’d ever wanted was to serve God, to find a place where he belonged. How had everything spiraled so fast?
“Tony…” Her hand covered his, warm and steady. There was no teasing in her expression now—just real concern. “You didn’t lie to them. Not on purpose.”
“I know. They mixed me up with the other guy. But I let it go.”
She studied him for a moment. “Have you ever thought… maybe that mix-up was part of the plan?”
He arched a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe God wanted you here. Maybe you were called to Millville for a reason.” She shrugged lightly. “Maybe it was even His will that I showed up when I did.”
He gave a disbelieving chuckle. “You think God orchestrated all of this ?”
“I don’t know,” she said, almost wistfully. “You’re the minister. You tell me.”
He looked at her—truly looked—and saw something shift in her gaze. A flicker of something unsure, something searching.
“I can’t imagine…”
“But isn’t that what they say?” she murmured, eyes fixed on the melting rim of her soda cup. “That God works in mysterious ways?”
Tony nodded slowly, his heart thudding with a quiet mix of doubt, hope, and something else he couldn’t quite name.
Claire met his gaze again, and her smile was crooked. “Think about it. You and me? Engaged? It doesn’t get much more mysterious than that.”