“Good to hear,” he says, his eyes scanning the dark clinic. “Heard Dr. Archer was back in town. Doing a great job, from what I hear.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. “She is,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Have you seen her?”
Jamie nods, a casual, almost dismissive gesture. “Yeah, actually. Just saw her about twenty minutes ago. She and her friend were at Daisy’s, grabbing some pie to go, I think. Looked like they were in a hurry.”
Daisy’s.
A spark of hope, fierce and bright, ignites in my chest. “Thanks, Jamie,” I say, already turning back to the sedan.
“No problem,” he says, but I’m already climbing in, the engine still warm.
I don’t waste a second. I pull away from the clinic, the tires squealing slightly on the asphalt, and head toward the center of town.
I have to get to Daisy’s.
I have to find her before she disappears for good.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sedona
“Do you feel better?”Clara asks, her voice a gentle hum over the clatter of plates and the hiss of the grill at Daisy’s.
I nod, taking another bite of the huckleberry pie. The sweet-tart explosion on my tongue is a small, perfect comfort, a moment of peace in a world that’s been anything but.
“I am,” I say, and it’s not a lie. The pie helps. The company helps. “I’m glad you made us come here after we couriered those samples.”
If it had been up to me, I would’ve been on a plane back to New York by now. But Clara, with her fierce, unwavering logic, had stopped me.
She’d reminded me about the estate, the legal tangles of my father’s will, the rental car still sitting in Billy’s driveway like a ghost.
She’d reminded me that running away without looking back would just create more messes, more ghosts to haunt me later.
“More tea, dears?” Daisy Mae is there, her warm, motherly presence a balm. She’s holding a heavy ceramic pot, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I nod, pushing my cup forward. “Yes, please, Daisy.”
She pours, the fragrant steam rising to meet me. As she moves away, I turn back to Clara, my voice dropping. “I have to break up with Cole.”
Clara reaches across the table, her hand finding mine and giving it a firm, supportive squeeze.
“Honey,” she says, her voice full of a knowing sympathy. “Do you understand the concept of unwinding? No men talk today. That’s the rule. We eat pie, we drink tea, we plot our return to civilization. That’s it.”
A small, genuine smile touches my lips. “Okay. No men talk.”
“Good,” she says, beaming. “Just a couple of weeks. We get this all sorted, and then we’re back in New York, where the only cattle we have to worry about are the ones on our pizza.”
“Thank you, Clara,” I say, the words feeling inadequate. “For everything.”
“Hey,” she says, shrugging as if it’s nothing. “I know you would do the same thing for me.”
“Of course I would.”
I watch her eyes go round, her gaze fixed on something over my shoulder. Her playful expression freezes.
“Uh,” she says, her voice suddenly tight. “We might have to put the no-men talk on hold.”
My stomach clenches. “Why?”
