Amber stared at her phone in disbelief. Claire had finally texted her after three days of silence.
Family dinner tonight. Dad's cooking. Come at 6. We need to talk.
Her stomach flipped. Was this good news or bad? Had Claire forgiven her, or was this an ambush?
"Only one way to find out," Amber muttered to herself as she changed out of her library uniform.
She chose a simple green dress that Claire had once complimented. As she brushed her hair, Amber thought about seeing Rawls again. Tomorrow they'd be alone in his office, but tonight they'd have to act normal in front of Claire.
At exactly 6 PM, Amber knocked on the Benedict's front door. Claire opened it, her face unreadable.
"Hi," Amber said nervously.
Claire didn't smile but stepped aside. "Come in."
The delicious smell of roast chicken filled the house. Amber followed Claire to the kitchen, where Rawls stood at the stove wearing an apron. He looked up, his eyes warming when he saw Amber.
"Hello, Amber. Glad you could make it."
"Thanks for inviting me," she replied, careful to keep her voice casual.
Simpson lounged against the counter, drinking wine. "The lovely librarian joins us! Evening, Amber."
Before she could respond, the front door opened, and a voice called out, "Hello? Where is everyone?"
Amber watched a tall woman with blonde hair—exactly like Claire's—sweep into the kitchen. She wore an expensive-looking dress and bright red lipstick.
"Mom!" Claire ran to hug her.
Amber froze. Karla Benedict wasn't supposed to arrive until the weekend.
"Surprise!" Karla laughed, hugging Claire tight. "I caught an earlier flight."
Rawls looked as shocked as Amber felt. "Karla. You're early."
"Nice to see you too, Rawls." Karla's smile was sharp. Her eyes landed on Amber. "And who's this?"
"Mom, this is my best friend, Amber," Claire explained.
"Ah, the famous Amber." Karla extended a perfectly manicured hand. "Claire's told me so much about you."
Amber shook her hand, wondering what exactly Claire had shared. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Benedict."
"It's Ms. Harlow now," Karla corrected. "I went back to my maiden name after the divorce."
"Which I helped her get," Simpson chimed in, raising his glass. "Best lawyer she could afford."
Rawls shot his brother a dark look. The kitchen filled with tension until Claire clapped her hands.
"Let's eat! I'm starving."
Dinner was served in the dining room. Amber sat between Claire and Simpson, directly across from Rawls. Karla sat at the other end of the table, asking Claire questions about college.
As they ate, Rawls surprised everyone by telling funny stories about his work as an architect.
"So there I was," he said, his eyes twinkling, "standing in six inches of mud, trying to convince the client that yes, we really did need to fix the foundation before building his dream porch."
Everyone laughed, even Karla. Amber couldn't help noticing how Rawls made sure everyone had enough food, remembering that Simpson hated carrots and offering Karla the wine she preferred. He was thoughtful even to his ex-wife and difficult brother.
"Rawls always was the responsible one," Karla said, her voice softer now. "Unlike some people." She glanced at Simpson.
"Life's too short for responsibility," Simpson replied, winking at Amber.
Under the table, Claire nudged Amber's foot and rolled her eyes. Maybe they were okay after all?
After dinner, while Claire showed her mother photos from college, Rawls approached Amber in the kitchen.
"Sorry about the surprise guest," he whispered. "I had no idea Karla was coming early."
"It's fine," Amber assured him. "Claire seems happy to see her."
"Listen, I run a small reading club at the community center," Rawls explained. "Could you help me pick out some books before you go? I need expert advice."
Amber nodded, ignoring Simpson's knowing smirk as they left the kitchen.
In Rawls' home office, books lined every wall. Amber ran her fingers along the spines while Rawls closed the door partway.
"Is this really about books?" she asked quietly.
Rawls sighed. "Partly. But I also wanted to check if we're still on for tomorrow."
"I said I'd come," Amber confirmed.
"With Karla here now..." His voice trailed off.
"It's just helping with your office, right?" Amber reminded him, though her racing heart suggested otherwise.
"Right." Rawls stepped closer. "Amber, there's something I—"
A soft cough interrupted them. Claire stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
"Mom's looking for you, Dad."
"I'll be right there," Rawls said. He gave Amber an apologetic look before leaving.
Alone with Claire for the first time since the party, Amber braced herself.
"So," Claire began, "you and my dad were just talking about books?"
"Yes," Amber said firmly. "That's it."
Claire studied her face. "I saw how you looked at him at dinner."
Amber's cheeks burned. "Claire—"
"And I saw how he looked at you."
This stopped Amber cold. "What?"
"I'm not blind, Amber." Claire's voice wavered. "My dad's been alone since the divorce. I've seen women try to get his attention. But he never looked at any of them the way he looks at you."
Amber's heart pounded. "Claire, I would never do anything to hurt you."
"I know." Claire sighed. "That's why I invited you tonight. To see for myself."
"See what?"
"If there's really something between you two." Claire stepped closer. "Is there?"
Before Amber could answer, Doug Dawson appeared in the doorway.
"Claire? Your mom let me in."
Claire's face brightened. "Doug! I didn't know you were coming."
Doug smiled, but his eyes were cold when they landed on Amber. "I brought those class notes you wanted."
Amber felt uneasy. Why was Doug here?
"Amber was just helping my dad find books," Claire explained.
"How... friendly," Doug replied. "By the way, Amber, I saw you at the library yesterday. With Mr. Benedict."
The way he said it made it sound wrong, dirty somehow.
"I work there now," Amber said defensively.
"Yes, and Mr. Benedict visits often, I hear." Doug's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Interesting."
Claire looked between them, confusion on her face.
"I should go," Amber said quickly. "Early shift tomorrow."
As she gathered her purse, Simpson appeared, leaning casually against the doorframe.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked. "The night's just getting interesting."
Amber didn't like the gleam in his eye.
In the living room, she said goodbye to Karla, who studied her with a calculating gaze.
"You're very young to be so close to this family," Karla remarked.
"Claire and I have been friends for years," Amber replied.
"Yes, with Claire." Karla's smile was sharp. "We'll talk more during my visit, I'm sure."
Outside, Amber breathed in the cool night air. What a strange evening. Claire knew—or at least suspected—her feelings for Rawls. And now Doug was watching her too closely. Even Karla seemed suspicious.
As Amber walked home, her phone buzzed with a text from Rawls.
Sorry about tonight. Still on for tomorrow? Need to talk to you privately.
Then another text came, this one from Claire:
We didn't finish our talk. Be careful, Amber. Not everyone in our house has good intentions.
Confused, Amber typed back: What do you mean?
Claire's response sent chills down Amber's spine:
Doug told me something scary. Don't trust Simpson. And watch out for my mom. She knows about your journal.
Amber stopped walking. How could Karla know about her journal? Unless...
A car slowed beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Simpson's smiling face.
"Need a ride, little librarian? I know all about secrets in journals. Maybe we should talk about yours."