Free Now and Then Friends by Kate Hewitt

sister really was that clever.
    â€œStill, it must have been difficult,” Emily ventured, and Rachel rose from the table.
    â€œFor a little while, yes, of course. But it was a long time ago. Now, clearly the kitchen needs sorting,” she continued as she poured the rest of her tea out in the sink. “And the bathrooms, I’m sure. Anything else at the top of the list?”
    Emily cringed guiltily. “The nappy pail . . .”
    â€œFirst thing,” Rachel agreed. “And maybe I’ll open a few windows while I’m at it.”
    Three hours later she’d left the Harts’ house with Riley and Rogan chucking wooden trains around the newly cleaned kitchen and Emily defrosting a pack of chicken breasts for dinner. It had all been oddly domestic and cozy as Rachel had buttoned up her coat and stuffed her supplies back into her pail. Maybe it made a difference that the kitchen was three times the size of her own, with granite counters and top-of-the-line appliances.
    For a second she imagined living in this kind of house, pottering around this kind of kitchen. The kids she could take or leave, but the privacy, the space, the freedom . . .
    Those were attractive.
    Grimacing, Rachel headed towards her car. The fragile blue sky of that morning had darkened to pewter, and rain was spitting down like an insult. She threw her stuff in the back of the car before getting in and sitting there a moment, her hands on the steering wheel.
    â€œRight,” she said aloud. “Get over it, Rachel. Move on, for heaven’s sake.”
    She had to, because Claire was here to stay, at least for a little while, and tomorrow she was cleaning her house.

6

Claire
    It took Claire four days of moping around the house, venturing into Whitehaven by train for supplies, and randomly surfing the Internet for job opportunities before she worked up the courage to try the village shop again on Tuesday morning.
    She wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with Dan Trenton on a daily basis, but since she didn’t have a car and train times were irregular, a job in the village really was ideal.
    And if she got a job, even one stocking shelves at the post office shop, she’d have something to show her parents and brother, something to prove that she was actually making a life for herself here.
    Even if it didn’t feel that way. She hadn’t seen Lucy or Abby or really anyone since her walk to the beach; the weather had been horrendous, at least compared to Portugal. Gusty wind and spitting rain, although that morning the sky had been blue. For about fifteen minutes. She’d forgotten how absolutely awful the weather could be here, although there was something strangely cozy about it too. Sitting snugly inside with a cup of tea while the heavens opened did make one feel safe.
    Now Claire stood in front of the village shop and checked that the help-wanted sign was still in the window. Of course it was. Who really wanted this job?
    Rain blew into her face, and she wiped her cheeks of moisture before stiffening her spine along with her resolve and heading inside.
    No one was by the till, and the shop had an empty feel to it. Claire stood there for a moment, her gaze wandering around the shelves of dusty packets and tins, before she decided to go around to the back, where the post office was.
    Dan Trenton was just coming from behind the post office counter with its wall of Plexiglas, and he was moving at a clip that nearly had Claire smacking into his concrete wall of a chest.
    She took a hasty step backwards and Dan grabbed her by the arm. “Whoa.” He righted her even though she hadn’t actually been losing her balance and then released her with a scowl. “You again.”
    â€œYes, me again. I wanted to ask about the job. Again.”
    Dan moved past her to the till and then turned, his arms folded. Claire glanced at one of the tattoos: the name “Daphne” with an