“I want to see you taste it before you leave,” she said. “That way I know you won’t throw it out.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” He lifted the glass and took a doubtful sniff.
“Food can be healthy and delicious.”
“In my experience, the two don’t go hand in hand.” He radiated suspicion as he took a small sip. “Hey!” His eyes widened. “This one actually tastes good.”
Her heart did a happy little leap. To cover her reaction to his praise, she gave a satisfied nod. “I added a little agave syrup to satisfy your sweet tooth.”
“You’re the best.”
Warmed by his words, Claire let her gaze linger on his departing figure. Then shaking herself free of his spell, she carried her daughter into the sunroom next to the kitchen, where Honey had stripped off her clothes earlier. The room was filled with books and toys to keep the toddler occupied while Claire worked in the kitchen.
Once Honey was dressed, Claire settled her into a booster chair at the kitchen table. Sunlight spilled across the two-year-old’s light brown hair, awakening the gold highlights and making her hazel eyes twinkle. She had her father’s coloring. Claire’s espresso hair and brown eyes were not at all represented. The only mark she’d made on her daughter was her petite frame. Where Jasper had been six-three and broadly built, Honey was in the twenty-fifth percentile for height and weight.
With Linc off to the gym, the house settled back into its usual state of harmonious calm. It wasn’t that his energy was all that chaotic, but his presence tended to stir up feelings Claire would have preferred not to think about. Plus, during the seven months of baseball season, she’d grown accustomed to having the four-bedroom, five-bathroom home in the prestigious South of Broad—or SOB—neighborhood to herself and Honey.
While the toddler ate bits of a homemade blueberry waffle and slices of banana, Claire made out a grocery list. Linc had decided to host a dinner party on Saturday. It was his first time entertaining formally since his engagement to London had ended. When they were together, the socialite had preferred to host all their events at her mansion. London had always made it clear she doubted Claire’s experience and sophistication to pull off a Charleston-worthy event. On the surface, London had been right to judge Claire this way. Her upbringing in San Francisco was a pretty far cry from the pomp and circumstance that ruled Charleston society.
But Claire cooked like a dream. Everyone who’d tasted her food said so. In fact, it was on the strength of her culinary skills that she’d found her way to filling in for Bettina’s housekeeper during a ladies’ luncheon and eventually taking the job with Linc.
As soon as Honey finished her breakfast, Claire dressed her in an adorable outfit she’d found at a consignment shop and headed to the local gourmet grocery store with her list. The menu required several specialty ingredients and Claire knew she’d find everything she needed there.
While she shopped, she kept Honey occupied by practicing her colors.
“What color is this?” Claire asked, showing her a box of elbow macaroni.
“Green,” Honey crowed and clapped her hands, obviously pleased with herself.
“That’s right. It’s green.” She gave her daughter a smoochy kiss on her cheek, making her giggle.
“Well, isn’t she a bright little girl.”
Claire turned toward the speaker, a stunning woman in her early thirties with bright green eyes and dark blond hair subtly highlighted with gold. She had perfect skin and full lips, and her flawless makeup softened the angles of her face. In a yellow T-shirt and a flowered skirt, Claire felt dowdy and uninteresting beside her.
“Thank you. She picks up things so very quickly,” she said, her wide smile broadcasting her pride. “She’s already counting to fifty and knows her ABCs.”
“My goodness. How old is she?”
“She just turned two last month.”
The woman looked suitably impressed. “You must work with her a great deal.”
“I’m home with her all day, so that really makes a difference.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to the plain gold band on Claire’s left hand. Her first inclination was to cover the betraying lack of sparkle. A part of Claire winced at the impulse. In this part of town, status was everything, and she’d grown tired of how fast she was dismissed. Claire pushed her irritation aside. She was a housekeeper. She shouldn’t be worrying about anyone’s perception of her. Still, it smarted a little every time she glimpsed disdain in someone’s eyes.
But there was nothing but kind interest in the woman’s expression. “I bet you read to her all the time.”
“I do. She loves books.” Claire beamed at Honey, realizing how many memories of her own childhood involved her mother reading to her in the overstuffed armchair in their living room. “Do you have any children?”
“No. I’m not married.” The woman sighed. “As much as I love children, I’m not really sure I’m cut out for motherhood.”
“It’s not always easy.”
The woman acknowledged the remark with a faint smile. “I’m Everly Briggs.”
“Nice to meet you, Everly. I’m Claire Robbins and this is my daughter, Honey.”