She’d been lucky. She had a loving mother and a doting great-aunt. That was a heck of a lot more than many people got.
“Well, come on inside and get yourself something to eat,” Archer ordered. He started to turn back toward the doors, intent on resuming his duties as host.
“I can’t stay long,” Clare said quickly.
Archer stopped and looked at her. So did everyone else, including Jake Salter. Okay, so it had been an odd thing to say, given that she had just flown all the way from San Francisco.
Elizabeth frowned in dismay. “You’re not planning on going back to San Francisco tonight, for heaven’s sake? You just got here.”
“No, I’m not going back tonight. I plan to catch a flight home day after tomorrow.”
“Forget it,” Archer growled. “We’ve got business to talk about. You’ll need to stick around longer than that.”
“I have things to do back home,” Clare began, speaking through clenched teeth.
Jake was suddenly beside her, taking her elbow, drawing her toward the French doors.
“You could probably use a little food after that flight and the long drive from the airport,” he said.
It was a command, not a suggestion. Her first inclination, as always in such circumstances, was to dig in her heels. That intention got even stronger when she realized that everyone, including Archer, was clearly relieved to see Jake taking charge of her.
Jake must have felt her incipient resistance. He gave her a slightly amused smile and raised his brows, silently asking her if she really wanted to cause a scene over a trivial matter like hitting the hors d’oeuvre table.
What the heck. She hadn’t eaten anything since the small carton of yogurt she’d had for lunch.
“All right,” she said.
“Where are you spending the night?” Elizabeth asked.
“At one of the chain hotels near the airport,” Clare replied.
Elizabeth was appalled.
“It’s an hour’s drive back to the airport,” she said.
“I know,” Clare said.
“You’ll stay here,” Archer declared decisively. “Plenty of room.”
Myra’s mouth opened and then closed abruptly on the objection. Clare felt sorry for her. Having your husband’s long-lost daughter, the product of his one-night stand with another woman, show up on your doorstep thirty-two years later had to be in the top ten of every wife’s worst nightmares.
“Thanks, but I prefer the hotel. I’ve already checked in and left my suitcase in the room.”
“If only I hadn’t just moved out of my apartment,” Elizabeth said, “you could have stayed with me. But like I told you on the phone last week, I’m here with Mom and Dad until the deal closes on my new condo.”
“It’s okay,” Clare said. “I don’t mind the hotel. Honest.”
Archer’s jaw flexed ominously but Jake had Clare almost to the doors.
“She has plenty of time to decide what she wants to do,” he said, drawing her through the opening. “Let me get some food into her first.”
Every head in the crowded room turned when Jake escorted her inside. A split second later, everyone looked away. The noise of hastily resumed conversations and false laughter rose rapidly, filling the large space.
Clare had been prepared for the uncomfortable reaction but it nevertheless hit her like a psychic shock wave. She had to remind herself to breathe. She felt Jake’s hand tighten on her arm but he said nothing.
He steered her toward a leather padded bar at one end of the long, spacious room, evidently unfazed by the covert glances and curious stares.
“Let’s start with the drink first,” he said. “If you’ve been in the Valley of the Sun for more than five minutes at this time of year, you need water.”
“I am a little thirsty,” she admitted.
He brought her to a halt at the bar and looked at the attendant. “Sparkling water and a glass of Chardonnay for Miss Lancaster, please.”
“Never mind the wine. I won’t be staying long and I’ve got the drive back to the airport.”
Jake shrugged agreeably. “Just the water, in that case.”
The man on the other side of the bar nodded, deftly filled a glass with bubbly water and handed it to Clare.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Now we do a surgical strike on the buffet,” Jake said.
He guided her to a rustic, wooden plank table that looked as if it dated from the early 1800s when Mexico controlled a large chunk of what was now Arizona. She knew the table was probably a genuine antique. Myra had excellent taste and could afford the best.
The buffet was decorated with colorful, hand-painted pottery dishes that incorporated a variety of Southwestern motifs. A large, tiered ice sculpture with hollowed-out bowls held an assortment of cold hors d’oeuvres. At the other end of the long table stood a line of silver chafing dishes. Steam wafted up from the contents of the trays.
It dawned on Clare that she was hungry.
“You were right,” she said to Jake. “I do need something to eat.”
“I recommend those miniature blue-corn tortilla things.” He handed her a pepper-red plate. “The filling may be a little too hot for someone from San Francisco, though.”
“Obviously you don’t know much about San Franciscans.” She piled several of the tiny tacos onto the plate and moved on to the cold shrimp and salsa.
Elizabeth materialized just as Clare collected a napkin and fork.
“Everything okay?” she asked. She looked intensely relieved when she saw the assortment of food on Clare’s plate. “Oh, good. You’re eating.”
“As you know, that’s one of the things I do well,” Clare said. “Don’t worry about me, Liz. I’m fine. Go back to your guests.”
“I wish Dad had told us you were coming. We could have made some other arrangements.” Elizabeth glanced around uneasily. “I realize this must be very uncomfortable for you.”
“I’m fine. Go mingle. Don’t worry, now that I’m here, I’m not going to skip town without spending some time with you.”
Jake looked at Elizabeth. “I’ll take care of her.”
Elizabeth clearly drew strength and reassurance from that statement.
“Well, in that case, I’d better go talk to some people,” Elizabeth said. “If I don’t, Mom will be upset. Thanks, Jake.” She gave Clare a warm smile. “I’ll catch up with you later.”