Claire closed the lid on her computer and stretched. She’d been up since dawn and had been working nonstop for two hours. It had been a week since the fundraising event. She’d gotten tons of work done, but the week had been jam packed with meetings. So, as usual, she was spending Saturday morning working in her home office.

Feeling the need to stretch her legs, she got dressed in her tights, sports bra, and T-shirt. She laced up her running shoes and put in her earbuds. She went into her exercise room, turned on Taylor Swift, and hopped on the treadmill. She never warmed up. Warming up always seemed like a waste of time. She just took off running.

She was well into mile three when the doorbell rang. Danielle was still asleep and it was too early for any of her friends to be coming over. It was rare that anyone was up and about on a Saturday morning. Even the neighbors stayed to themselves.

She went to the door and peeked out through the glass. A courier stood there with a large package balanced against his legs. Oh no. Surely Maine D’Court didn’t send her a painting. She’d put his check in the mail, so he should have it now. She’d even added in a bonus for having a one hundred percent sell out. Maybe that had backfired and encouraged him. She’d hoped he would leave her alone now that the fundraiser was in the past.

She couldn’t leave the courier standing on her front stoop all day. She opened the door and he slid what could only be a painting into her foyer and propped it against the wall. “These usually go to the gallery,” she said, “Are you sure you have the right address?”

The boy showed her the address label. She didn’t recognize the return address and there was no name listed. If this had been the gallery, she would have thought someone was sending her an unsolicited sample of their work. But for it to come to her home address was creepy.

She thanked the courier and locked the door. Then she ripped the thick paper from the painting and sat down on the stairs.

It was the fireworks painting. The very same painting she had personally sent to Grayson on Monday.

Unless…

She checked the back for the sticker she always added to indicate that it was purchased for the purpose of charity. And breathed a sigh of relief. The sticker was there. For a moment, she had feared that Maine D’Court had painted another just for her.

But this…

Grayson had spent a lot of money to buy this painting. And now he was just giving it away. She dug through the wrapping for a note, but there wasn’t one. Nothing.

She stood with her hands on her hips. He could have at least sent his phone number along so she could call and thank him.

She should really send it back to him. It was too much to accept. But the thought made her giggle. They would quickly spend more on sending the thing back and forth than he’d paid for it to begin with.

When she had quoted the price, she didn’t think he would actually buy it. If she’d thought he was going to buy it, she’d have taken off her commission, but then once he had his check book out, it would have been an insult to suddenly lower the price as though he couldn’t afford to pay. In truth, she had no idea how much Grayson Moore could afford to pay.

“Mom?” Danielle called sleepily from the top of the stairs. “I thought I heard the doorbell. Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s okay, honey,” Claire said, reaching to pick up the wrapping paper. Charlie followed Claire down the stairs and rolled around in the paper, sending them both into a spell of giggles.

“What is that?” Danielle asked. “Is that from the fundraiser?”

“It is.” Claire had no idea what to do with the painting.

“Did you buy it?” Danielle asked.

Claire shook her head.

“Who did?”

Claire looked at her daughter. She couldn’t lie to her. “Grayson,” she said.

Danielle’s eyes widened. “No. Way.”

“Way,” Claire said, pulling on some twine to entertain the kitten.

“But…” She studied the painting. “If he bought it, why would he send it to you?”

“He probably overheard me telling someone that I liked it.”

“So… he bought it for you,” Danielle said, her lips turning into a smile.

Claire shrugged. “I guess.”

“Do you like it? Really?” Danielle asked.

“Yeah. I do.”

“We should put it in the kitchen,” Danielle decided. “We need some color in there.”

“Let’s take it in there and see,” Claire said.

The two of them carried the painting into the kitchen and stood it against the wall Claire had left bare. Danielle had been right. It did add a splash of color to the room.

“Nice,” Danielle said. “Now tell me why my psych teacher would send you a painting.”

“I have no idea,” Claire went to turn on the tea kettle.

“Mom,” Danielle said in a voice much too old for her eighteen years.

Claire pulled two mugs from the cabinet. “Alright,” she said. How much did she tell her daughter? The truth, but not everything. Just like with Noah.

“We dated in high school.”

Danielle gasped. “You did not!”

Claire smiled as she sipped water.

“Wait,” Danielle grew serious. “I know that look. Is Grayson my father?”

Claire coughed as the water went down the wrong way. “Heavens, no. Noah is your father, honey.”

“That’s good,” Danielle said. “But if you married Grayson, I’d have two awesome fathers.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Claire said, but the idea latched onto her own fantasies.

“Why not? He’s so much fun.”

“I haven’t even seen him in twenty years.”

“Looks like he noticed you.”

Claire flushed. Only out of the mouths of children. Especially almost adult children who had been in intensive therapy for almost a year and had learned to say what they felt.

“You should call him,” Danielle said.

“I don’t have his number.”

Danielle tugged on the twine and laughed as the cat leaped into the air to grab it. She looked back at Claire, a smile on her lips. “I do.”

Claire hadn’t thought of that. She could call Grayson at his office. Fortunately for her, it was Saturday, so he wouldn’t be there.

“I have his cell number,” Danielle said.

Claire nearly dropped the tea kettle. “What? How?”

Danielle shrugged. “It’s on the syllabus.”

“He put his cell number on his syllabus?” She asked as she poured water into their mugs for tea.

“Sure. It’s no big deal. It’s not like anyone will call him. They’ll just send texts.”

“I didn’t know they did that,” Claire murmured. Texting a professor seemed like such an invasion of privacy. Especially texting a man who didn’t even have a cell phone the last time she knew him.

She took a deep breath. “I could text him.”

“Are you kidding? Mom. You can’t text a thank you for a gift like that. I know how much your paintings go for. Seriously?”

“You’re right.”

“You’re scared.”

“I am not,” Claire said. She so was.

“I’ll get you the number,” Danielle said, with a mischievous smile. “But you don’t have to call him if you don’t want to. I’m sure you’ll do what’s right.”

It was so strange to hear her own words coming back to her from the one she’d said them to so many times before.

Danielle’s phone rang. Claire recognized the ring tone Danielle had picked for her father. Noah called his daughter several times a week. Danielle’s suicide attempt had been a wake-up call for all of them.

She took her tea and sat at the little table in the kitchen nook and watched the birds flutter around the bird feeder. The bird feeder she’d forgotten to fill.

The housekeeper was coming today. She’d put it on her list. Claire needed a shower before she called Grayson.

And, yes, she would call him. It was the right thing to do.

Claire called at eleven o’clock to thank him for the painting. She said she would text a picture over once she had it on the wall. It might be awhile.

She said she and Danielle were about to have lunch and go to the mall. One of Danielle’s friends was coming along.

Grayson enjoyed the easy conversation between them. Unfortunately, it was all too brief.

He hadn’t known if she would call. He hadn’t given her his phone number on purpose. He didn’t want it to be too easy… or too obvious. He also knew that his cell phone was on his syllabus. The only way she would get it would be if she talked to Danielle about him. It meant she told Danielle who’d sent the painting. It was important that Danielle be included in this new relationship with Claire.

Claire and Danielle were a package deal now. He knew that up front. And he wanted to make sure Claire knew he knew it.

He closed the textbook he’d been reading. He was distracted now and there was no way he was going to be able to concentrate. He saved Claire’s phone number in his phone, put on some shorts and his running shoes and headed out for a jog.

Jogging cleared his head when nothing else would. He jogged down the sidewalk to the park and let his mind wander as he joined the Saturday morning families out for some sunshine. It was hot, but nothing like the south where he’d been stationed the last couple of years. San Antonio was hot. After lunch, jogging was prohibitive, to say the least. But here the weather was nice comparatively.

Claire said she never got his letters. He had the address right. What could have happened?

Her parents had seemed to like him well enough. But with him out of the way, it was hard to say what had happened. He’d googled the Worthington family after his mother had sent him the article about Claire’s wedding. The Worthington family of Ft. Worth was wealthy to say the least. He couldn’t blame Claire’s father if he’d managed to arrange a marriage for her with someone of wealth.

Grayson certainly couldn’t have offered her the lifestyle she was used to. He came from an upper middle-class family. He was doing okay now with his retirement from the military and his salary from the university. But still, he couldn’t put himself in the wealthy category.

It was fortuitous that Claire was divorced now that he was back in town. It was even more fortuitous that Claire’s daughter was in his class. Grayson had only been teaching for one year, starting last fall. The only way it could have been weirder was if she’d shown up in his very first class.

Grayson had learned a long time ago not to push things. If something was going to happen, it would happen. If he tried to push it and make it happen, it would only turn out badly.

He’d shown up at Claire’s fundraiser, he’d bought the painting, and he’d sent it to her.

It was time to back off.

He wasn’t putting the ball in her court. That wouldn’t be fair. She’d done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. Especially when she didn’t know the rules.

But he would lay off for a while. Let things simmer. She was newly divorced. She didn’t need him pushing at her.

Besides, August 3 was his last day in Los Angeles. Grayson would have finished his one year visiting professorship and had accepted a one-year full-time teaching position at Robert Morris University in Pittsburgh.