Lips That Touch Mine Read Free

against the mahogany-paneled wall
of her foyer.
    What had she gotten herself into?
    She knew firsthand that men who drank alcohol
were too unpredictable and could turn violent and deadly if
provoked. But she'd had to confront him. Her last boarder had left
earlier that evening because of the noise from the saloon. During
the six weeks that she'd been running her boardinghouse, she'd had
many guests, all of whom loved her home but eventually left because
of the noise.
    If she were simply renting to overnight
guests, they would put up with the noise for a night or two. But
the people she rented to were seeking a place to stay for several
weeks or months. Traveling salesmen came to town to do business.
Families came to visit relatives who didn't always have room to put
them up. Newly married couples not wanting to set up housekeeping
chose to rent by the year.
    Unlike the Harrison Hotel or the Taylor
House, Claire's boardinghouse was a home to her guests. They could
visit her kitchen at any hour to make themselves a cup of tea and
eat her fresh-baked tea cakes, cookies, or breads. They could sit
by a warm fire in the parlor, or play the piano in her music room,
or retire at their leisure to their own private bedchamber.
    Taking boarders was her only means of
supporting herself. She had no other options. Not one.
    Her father had disowned her at seventeen for
eloping with Jack Ashier, which had been the worst mistake of her
life. She'd naively thought the reckless charmer loved her.
    He'd only wanted the dowry he thought her
wealthy father would provide.
    But her parents had been outraged with
Claire, and they'd blamed her grandmother Marie, whom Claire had
been visiting, for allowing the elopement to happen. Instead of
giving Claire a dowry, her father disinherited her and broke all
ties with his mother. Claire had spent four years in hell with a
man who had promised her heaven.
    Now all she wanted was to feel safe
again.
    She rubbed the chill from her arms, dreading
the empty hours that invited nightmarish memories. She had to do
something,
anything
to keep her mind occupied.
    Hurrying upstairs to her bedchamber, she
unlocked a small drawer in the oak chiffonier, then moved aside her
beloved grandmother's diary she'd yet to read. The letter her
sister had written to her a month ago lay open in the drawer.
Homesick, Claire picked up the letter and sank into the wing chair
to read it again.
     
    Dearest Claire, I hope you and Jack are happy in
your new home in Fredonia.
     
    Claire groaned, the weight of her own lies
burdening her conscience. She'd lied while Jack was alive that she
was happy with him, and lied after he died that he was still alive
and moving to Fredonia with her. She'd done it to keep her sister
from worrying.
     
    It must feel strange yet oddly comforting to live in
Grandmother's house. I know how much you loved her. We all deeply
miss her.
    Joanna, Jonathan, and Joseph are growing too fast to
keep them in shoes, but they are healthy, happy children. Michael
has become a partner in Daddy's steel mill. I am busy with the
unending household chores, but blessed with love and good health. I
pray that you are, too, dearest sister. I miss you and wish you
could come home for a visit, but as you must suspect, nothing has
changed here. I'm sorry, Claire, but Daddy still refuses to speak
of you. I continue to pray that one day his heart will know
forgiveness, and you can come home.
    Your loving sister, Lida.
     
    Claire's throat ached. She would give
anything to be welcome in her father's home again, but he would
never forgive her for the embarrassment she'd caused the
family.
    For four years, she had longed to pour out
her heartaches and fears in her letters to Lida, but she'd been too
ashamed to admit her true circumstances. Instead, she'd filled the
pages with false claims of happiness and love for Jack, feeling it
was kinder to write fairy tales than truth.
    Now it would be an even bigger lie to tell
her sister that