She was not what Haley had expected. Her father painted
this woman as a cunning, conniving witch, and Haley had
imagined her that way. Cold. Calculating. Menacing. Old.
Warts on the nose.
This woman wasn’t old. She was probably mid-thirties, and
even though she wore all black, it suited her tall, lithe frame.
Her clothes were expensive and flawless, a black blouse
tucked into the high waistband of a black pencil skirt. Long
legs, shapely calves, six-inch heels. She definitely did not have
warts on her nose, or anywhere else. Claire Finely might just
have been the most beautiful creature Haley had ever seen.
The beauty of the house, the yard, the lake, and just about
anything else in the world, couldn’t hold a candle to this
woman. She wasn’t a natural blonde, but her hair was dyed so
tastefully that a person almost couldn’t tell. Her brows were
darker, which was the giveaway, and her lashes were thick and
black over dark brown eyes. Her lips were the only splash of
color, a deep, crimson red.
Claire held herself like a goddess, and when she crossed her
arms over her chest and her eyes fell on Haley, she lost what
little breath she’d been able to hold onto. She felt dumpy in the
slacks and blouse she’d chosen for this, in her black flats that
pinched the backs of her heels every time she took a step.
“Haley.” Claire said her name like a name could contain a
whole sentence, a whole lifetime. Like she already knew
everything about her, and she enjoyed being known and being
a mystery at the same time. Her voice was cold, her tone ice.
Haley shivered. “Uh, hi,” she squeak
ed, and felt ridiculous.
What was she supposed to say? The whole thing was