Claire felt sorry for her, but it was a distant kind of sorry - Miranda didn't really invite a lot of devotion. She didn't have any friends to speak of, or so Eve said; people tolerated her, but they didn't exactly enjoy her company. That was hard on the kid, but Claire could understand it. Miranda was a mixture of denial and outright creepiness, and even in Morganville, she was going to have a hard time fitting in.
No wonder she defended the vampire who was feeding on her. He was probably the only one who really showed her any kind of affection.
Claire paused to tuck the blankets more firmly around the girl's trembling frame before she went into the kitchen to make coffee and toast. As breakfasts went, it was lonely and basic, but the sun was barely up and none of the others were what you might call morning people.
There were times when signing up for early classes seemed like a really bad idea.
When the phone rang, Claire nearly jumped out of her skin. She leaped for the extension hanging on the wall by the kitchen door and got it before the second earsplitting jangle. "Hello?"
There was a pause on the other end, and then her mother said, "Claire?"
"Mom! Hi - what's wrong?"
"Why should anything be wrong? Why can't I just call because I wanted to talk to my daughter?" Oh, great. Now her mother sounded agitated and defensive. "I know it's early, but I wanted to catch up with you before you went off to class for the day."
Claire sighed and leaned against the wall, idly kicking at the linoleum floor. "Okay. How are you and Dad settling in? Getting all unpacked?"
"Just fine," her mother said, in so false a tone that Claire went very, very still. "It's just - an adjustment, that's all. Such a small town and all."
"Yeah," Claire agreed quietly. "It's an adjustment." She had no idea what her mother and father knew about Morganville by now, but they had to be getting some kind of - what would they call it? Orientation? Morganville was nothing if not efficient about that, she suspected. "Have you - met some people?"
"We went to a nice getting-to-know-you party downtown," Mom said. "Mr. Bishop and his daughter took us."
Claire had to bite her lip to hold back a moan. Bishop? And Amelie? Oh God. "What happened?"
"Oh, nothing, really. It was a cocktail party. Hors d'oeuvres and drinks, a little conversation. There was a presentation on the history of - of - " With shocking suddenness, Claire's mother burst into tears. "I swear, we didn't know - we didn't know or we wouldn't have sent you to this awful place, oh, honey - "
Claire could barely swallow around the lump in her throat. "Don't cry, Mom. It's okay. It's all going to be okay now." She was lying, but she had to. The sound of her mother breaking apart was just too hard. "Look, you've met Amelie, right?"
Sniffles on the other end. "Yes, she seemed nice."
Nice wasn't how Claire would have put it. "Well, Amelie's the most powerful person in Morganville, and she's definitely on our side." An exaggeration, but it was the best she could do to describe the situation in simple terms. "So there's really nothing to be worried about, Mom. I work for Amelie. She has some responsibility for me, and for you, to make sure we're safe. Okay?"
"Okay." It was wan and muffled, but at least it was agreement. "I was just so worried about your father. He didn't look well, not well at all. I wanted him to go to the hospital, but he said he was fine - "
Claire had a cold second of flashback to Miranda saying, Please don't send me there. You don't know what they'll do. . . . She'd been talking about the hospital. "But he's okay?"
"He seems all right today." Claire's mom blew her nose, and when she came back to the phone, she sounded clearer and stronger. "I'm sorry to lay this on you, honey. I just had no idea - it was so strange to think that you'd been here all this time and never said a word to us about - the situation." Meaning, the vampires.
"Well, to be honest, I didn't think you'd believe me," Claire said. "And out-of-town calls are monitored. They told you that, right?"
"Yes, they did. So you were protecting us." Her mom laughed shakily. "Parents are supposed to protect their children, Claire. We've done a bang-up job of that, haven't we? We really thought that it would be so much safer for you here than off in Massachusetts or California on your own. . . ."
"It's okay. I'll get there someday."
They moved the conversation to easier things - to unpacking, to the vase that had gotten broken during the move ("Honestly, I hated that thing anyway - your aunt gave it to us for Christmas that year, remember? "), to how Claire intended to spend her day. By the end of it, Mom seemed more or less stable, and Claire's coffee was hopelessly cold. So was her toast.
"Claire," Mom said. "About moving out of that house - "
"I'm not moving," Claire said. "I'm sorry, Mom. I know it's going to upset Dad, but these are my friends, and this is where I belong. I'm staying."
There was a short silence on the other end, and then her mother said, very softly, "I'm so proud of you."
She hung up with a soft click. Claire stood for a moment, tears prickling in her eyes, and then said to the silent line, "I love you."
And then she picked up her stuff and went to class.
Chapter Eight
Days passed, and for a change, there were no further emergencies. Normal life - or what passed for it, anyway - set in. Claire went to class, Eve went to work, Michael taught guitar lessons - he was a lot more in demand since the concert at Common Grounds - and Shane . . . Shane slacked, although Claire thought he seemed preoccupied.