Page 58 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

“Gemma was in real estate for a while. Before she started her companies and skyrocketed through the stratosphere.”

“Sounds like Gemma.”

“She hasn’t changed.” A smile toyed on Clara’s pretty mouth. “None of us have, really. We just grew up.”

Yes, she’d grown up. And no, she hadn’t changed. Thank God for that.

Clara had this ageless wisdom, this realistic vision of the world. She wasn’t bitter or harsh or jaded, she just knew that life wasn’t fair. And she smiled through it anyway.

“Do you mind that Gemma hired a PI to find you?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nah. You?”

“No. I’m glad.” She collected plates, stacking them and shoving them to the side. Then she rested her forearms on the table with a quick glance at August to make sure his pocket was still bulging with unspent quarters. “Tell me all about exploring.”

“Exploring was fun. Really fun.” I grinned and draped an arm over the back of my booth.

Clara was still leaning forward, and I ignored the magnetic pull to lean in closer. Clara considered us friends. We were friends. Two old acquaintances swapping stories over a meal. Nothing more.

“I went to LA first. Hated it. Stayed for about a week, then kept going south. Sometimes I hitchhiked. But I walked a lot. Walked until I got to San Diego.” The miles had been healing. They’d given me time to reflect and think about where I was going and what I wanted in my life.

At the top of the list had been stability. For that, I’d needed money.

“I stayed in San Diego for about eighteen months. Moved on right before my twenty-first birthday.”

“To where?” She propped her chin in a hand, listening. I’d always loved how Clara listened, not just with her ears but her entire body.

“Houston. I stayed there for about three years, working mostly. I took a page from the Clara Saint-James playbook and got my GED.”

“I still have that book you gave me. I couldn’t throw it out.” She smiled. “What did you do there?”

“Worked two jobs, one as a bouncer at a nightclub and another as a caddy at a golf course. I saw a lot of rich people at both places and I decided that I didn’t need to be rich, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to be poor.”

“Amen to that. What made you leave Houston?”

“Mostly, I was restless,” I admitted. “That last year, I took a few trips with some buddies I worked with at the club. We went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Dallas and San Antonio for a weekend here and there just to break things up. After the last trip, I realized it was time for a change of scenery.”

“What made you come back to California?”

“The ocean. The sunshine. The air. Those days I walked to San Diego were some of the best. I’d camp out where I could and wake up to the sound of breaking waves. Even when I got there, I didn’t have money for an apartment right away, so I slept on the beaches and did my best to avoid cops. So I went back to San Diego for a couple of years. Decided I hated the city. Realized I didn’t have time to surf when I worked eighty hours a week. That’s when I went back to Temecula.”

It was part of the truth. The other part was not something I felt like sharing.

“After I had my bearings as a realtor, I started looking for another town again.” And because for the first time, there had been nothing tying me to Temecula.

“Still restless?” Clara smirked.

I chuckled. “Something like that.”

“How’d you find Elyria?”

“From all that walking I did from LA to San Diego. Most of my trip was just about getting from one point to another, but the night I stayed here, I actually paid attention to the town. I slept on the same beach we went to today. Never forgot it. There was this restaurant close by that served the best chips and salsa I’d ever had. After Temecula, I decided to come and see if that restaurant was still in business. It was. So I moved here so I could eat there every day if I wanted.”

“And you didn’t take us there tonight for chips and salsa?” she asked, pretending to be offended.

“Tomorrow. We’ll go there tomorrow.” If all I had was two days with her, I was going to take them.

August slammed into the table, his hands cupped and ready to receive some change. “Mom, can I have more quarters?”