47. Foundation Repair
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
FOUNDATION REPAIR
Claire
The familiar scent of air freshener greets me the moment I step through the front doors of Juniper House.
The Christmas tree in the lobby still leans slightly to the left.
Holiday cards crowd the bulletin board by the entrance, and somewhere down the hall, I hear laughter followed by the muffled slam of a bedroom door.
Nothing has changed.
Except me.
“Look who finally rejoined society.”
I look up to find Marisol standing in the doorway of my office, silhouetted against the brighter hallway. She clutches a travel mug in one hand and holds a stack of folders in the other.
“I was only gone a few months.”
“You were gone one hundred forty-six days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes.”
“Wow, that’s very specific.”
“In all seriousness, welcome back. I missed you, and so did the girls.”
“It’s good to be back.” And surprisingly, it is.
At first, the ranch was just a place to survive. I woke up each morning and moved through the unfamiliar rooms like a ghost haunting someone else’s life. Then the school year started, and I learned the route to the bus stop, then how to make coffee in a kitchen that didn’t feel like mine.
Halloween came, then Thanksgiving.
Then the counseling appointments—week after week of sitting in a chair that still smelled like the last person, saying things out loud I’d never said before.
Somewhere in all of that, I was learning who I was outside of being Ethan’s wife. Here, I’m just Claire Bennett, Director.
Marisol settles into the chair opposite me. “Okay, quick updates,” she says. “Holiday donations are up, the east wing plumbing is finally fixed, and some of the girls are participating in a caroling project. On the downside, a few board members are still emailing at all hours.”
When she finishes, I have pages of notes.
“Anything else?” I ask.
She gives me a familiar look—one that signals she’s saved the worst news for last. “We caught Heidi sneaking out again.”
“Please tell me it wasn’t—”
“To see Jake. The situation with Jake has gotten worse. The first time she came back with a couple of bruises she hadn’t had the day before,” she says.
Even after all our interventions… she’s still convinced she loves him. It’s like he’s twisted her need for affection into a leash, and he knows just when to pull.
“How many times has this happened?”
“Twice. The first time was three weeks ago, and the second was just last week. Maintenance is reinforcing the east fence and adding more barbed wire. She’s meeting him behind the old shopping center on Locksley Drive. You know the one with the broken asphalt and weeds.”
“Of course, every teenager thinks no one will ever check abandoned parking lots. How long was she gone each time?”
“About two to three hours. She’s defensive, claiming they only talk. I called Detective Hale and we filed a report about the bruises, but she denied everything. She refuses to say that he hurt her.”
I’ve seen this before. The loyalty doesn’t make sense—but it’s fierce, and trying to cut through it only makes them cling tighter.
“How are they communicating?”
“We found a prepaid phone hidden in her room. But there’s more. Kelsey came to me yesterday, terrified. She said Heidi is thinking of running away with him.”
“This explains why she stopped volunteering at the ranch.” The pieces click into place.
She hesitates, her fingers drumming on the closed folder in her lap. “There’s one more thing.”
“Worse than Heidi sneaking out to meet an abusive boyfriend?”
She reaches into the side pocket of her bag and pulls out a folder. Inside is a single sheet of white paper that looks like it’s been photocopied. My name is printed across the front in stark black letters.
“It came in yesterday’s mail,” she says. “No return address. No signature. Just this.”
The message is short enough that I read it twice before my mind accepts the words.
Stay away from what doesn’t belong to you, or someone will get hurt.
“Did you call the police?” I ask.
“Yes.” She lowers her voice, leaning closer, a faint scent of coffee clinging to her. “I also pulled the security footage from yesterday. Nate is checking the exterior feed now, and maintenance is double-checking locks.”
“Marisol.”
She stops, pressing her lips together. “I know. It sounds like too much.”
“It sounds like you protected the house.”
“That’s the plan. Quiet containment, preserve evidence, and don’t scare the girls unless we have to. If the police say we need to do more, we will.”
“We don’t show this to the girls,” I say, my voice firm. “Not yet. But I want to talk to Heidi about it.”
She nods, though I see the worry she’s trying to hide. “I agree. But Claire, if Jake is connected to this—”
“Then we tighten everything,” I interject, folding the sleeve back toward her, a gesture of resolve.
I find Heidi in the art room. The girls are scattered around the house, watching movies or baking cookies, already enjoying the school holiday break.
“Hi, Heidi. We’ve missed you at the ranch.”
“I guess Marisol told you?”
“She did. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Why, so you can give me a lecture?” She remains focused on her drawing, charcoal smudging her fingertips, still avoiding my gaze.
“No.” My response gets her attention, and she finally turns to face me.
I pull out the heavy wooden chair across from her but don’t sit too close, giving her space.
“There isn’t a lecture?” She asks skeptically.
“I’m worried about you. Help me understand.”
“He’s not terrible all the time, promises to do better, is funny and kind, and sometimes makes me feel like the only one who truly wants me around.” Her voice is defensive, as if she’s reciting a well-worn script.
“I used to think that loving someone enough was all that mattered, and if you had that, then everything else would fall into place.”
I can see her bracing at my words.
“But I’ve learned that trust and safety matter more. When someone hurts us, we have to see them for who they are, not who we wish they were.”
She nods.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
Her gaze is sharp with suspicion.
“We received a piece of anonymous threatening mail,” I tell her, my voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper.
The color drains from her face. “I didn’t—I didn’t tell him to do anything.” Her pencil rolls off the table and taps against the scuffed linoleum floor.
“I believe you. We don’t know who sent it, but we have to take it seriously.”
“If it is him, and you contact the police, he’ll blame me.”
“We can share what we know without making you part of it.” I assure her.
She wipes the tears on her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “He said people here were turning me against him.”
“When did he say that?”
“When I snuck out.” She pulls her sleeves over her hands, burying her fingers in the fabric as if seeking comfort from the soft cotton. “He said if people kept interfering, somebody was going to regret it.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Don’t say it like I’m brave. I’m just scared.”
“Being scared doesn’t cancel out bravery.”
“What if he gets madder?”
“Then that tells us something important about him. Love doesn’t punish you for being protected.”
She twists the tissue in her hands. “I keep thinking I should’ve known. Maybe if I’d paid more attention...”
“People don’t earn trust by acting dangerous. They earn it by acting safe. That’s what makes betrayal so devastating.”
She looks at me uncertainly.
“Trust isn’t a character flaw.”
I leave work as darkness settles. By the time I park on Main Street, Christmas lights twinkle from storefront windows and the bare branches of trees. This is my favorite time of year, when the town transforms into our very own holiday movie.
The annual holiday market has taken over the town square as it does every year. Wooden vendor booths, draped in strings of lights, line the sidewalks. Holiday music drifts from hidden speakers. Families huddle together as they gather around the giant tree in the center of the square.
I spot Ellie’s bright red scarf as I approach the tree. She’s standing beside Lucy near a hot chocolate stand. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and a candy cane peeks out of her steaming mug of cocoa.
“Mom!” She practically launches herself at me, the force almost knocking the wind out of me. A blast of warmer air, tinged with the sweet smell of chocolate, wafts from a nearby stall.
“Hey, kiddo. Good day?”
She stomps her foot. “Yes, but you’re late. We’ve been waiting forever.”
“We’ve been standing here for three minutes,” Lucy corrects her.
“Exactly—forever!” Ellie rolls her eyes.
Sloane strolls over wearing a reindeer headband. “Teenagers are terrifying,” she declares.
“Let’s not encourage her. I thought we agreed.” I raise my eyebrows.
“Well, stop wasting time. Let’s shop!” Ellie shouts over her shoulder, already heading to the next vendor.
We stroll through the market, the scent of cinnamon and roasted nuts filling the air.
We eat warm pastries and pick up a few last-minute gifts.
Ellie chooses a soft knitted scarf and a pair of delicate earrings for Mona.
Sloane buys a tin of peppermint bark that she’s supposedly giving as a gift, though she’s halfway through it before we reach the next row of vendors.
Lucy and I wait outside a brightly lit golf shop, its warm glow a sharp contrast to the dimly lit market. Sloane and Ellie have gone inside to look for something for my dad. Lucy has her hands tucked deep in her coat pockets, and I notice she’s quieter than usual tonight.
“Claire.”
I turn and spot Daniel Mercer emerging from the crowd near the brass band, a warm smile spreading across his face. Of course he’s here. The charity he founded in honor of his late wife runs the market.
“Happy holidays, Claire.” His breath mists in the chilly air.
“Same to you.”
“I believe you know my sister, Lucy Marks.”
“Yes. Hi, Lucy. Good to see you again.”
Lucy offers a polite smile. Before she can say anything else, Daniel turns back to me.
“Claire, I’ve been meaning to reach out. I have a few ideas for a partnership between Juniper House and Mercer Development. I’ve been traveling so much that I haven’t had the chance, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner with me one evening so we could talk through them.”
I blink, caught off guard.
“Strictly business,” he adds with an easy smile. “If you’d prefer we can meet over lunch.”
I stare at him for so long that Lucy finally nudges me with her elbow, pulling me out of my stupor.
Daniel raises both hands with an apologetic smile. “As colleagues, of course. Just a friendly dinner to discuss the partnership.”
“Of course.” I clear my throat. “Call the office and we’ll find a time.”
“Perfect. I appreciate it. Have a wonderful evening, both of you.”
With that, he disappears into the crowd. I watch him go, lost in thought.
“That was unexpected,” Lucy says.