The Slow Rise of Clara Daniels by Christy English

Author:Christy English [English, Christy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Magnum Opus - A Next Chapter Imprint
Published: 2019-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Later, in the car, Donna answered her phone. Clara rested her head against the leather seat, drawing smoke into her lungs from her hashish cigarette.

Steve’s show had been a triumph. She loved rubbing his face in the fact that she was more popular than he was. Ever since she had refused to sleep with him two years before, she’d been a favorite target of his witless comments.

Donna’s eyes were wide as she listened to whomever was on the other end of the phone line.

“Hold on a minute.” Donna cupped her hand over the receiver. “Clara, it’s for you.”

“No kidding.” Clara reached over and took the phone.

“Clara, wait—”

“Hello.”

“Hello, Clara.” It was Aunt April’s voice.

Clara choked on cigarette smoke for the first time since she was twelve years old. She put out the cigarette in one of the limo’s ash trays, while Donna reached over and pounded on her back. Clara shot her a glare, and Donna stopped pounding. She poured a glass of water instead and handed it to her.

“Clara, are you all right?” April asked.

She blinked away tears and took a breath.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was hoarse, and she took a drink of water.

April sounded just as she had the last time Clara had seen her. The silence on the phone line lengthened. It had been ten years since Clara had last heard April’s voice.

“I understand you’re in New York,” April said.

“How did you get this number?”

April paused for the barest moment. “I really don’t think that’s important. Do you?”

Clara’s uncle had a lot of money and knew everyone on both coasts. His people could get anyone’s number, given twenty-four hours to do it.

“No, I suppose not.”

“I want to see you, Clara.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

There was a long silence. She heard her aunt draw a ragged breath.

“Clara –”

She couldn’t read her aunt’s mind, but she could hear the pain in her voice. Ten years of resolve crumbled in the space of a breath.

“When?”

She heard April lay the phone down for a moment, and another silence stretched, broken only by the sound of tissue rustling. April picked the phone back up, and her voice was thick with tears.

“Tonight.”

“Do you still live on Park and 86th?”

Clara felt as if she were watching herself from a distance. She almost couldn’t feel the phone in her hand.

April’s voice was even when she spoke again. “I’ll see you at seven.”

Clara didn’t even glance at her watch. “I’ll be there.”

Donna took the phone back, her eyes wide. It was after six-thirty. They didn’t speak to each other, but Donna turned on the intercom and directed the driver uptown.

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