One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (speld decodable readers txt) 📗

replied. She had almost forgotten about the storm. “What about you?”

“All good here. A few agents called and said they had some home damage, though, won’t make it in.”

Tara hadn’t anticipated that before this call, and she suddenly began to question if maybe Reinhardt would need her more right now, and maybe it was an inappropriate time to ask to pick up and leave. She felt the phone grow slippery in her sweaty palm.

“I’m guessing that’s not why you called?” Reinhardt finally asked.

Tara was quiet for a moment, trying to determine if she should still ask.

“I just wanted to check in with you early and see if you have anything urgent for me today.” She paused, deciding how she would word what she was about to say. “I have a bit of a family matter I’d like to take care of in New York today. If it’s not a problem, I’d like to take the day.”

Reinhardt was silent for a moment. “You want to fly all the way to New York? You sure everything’s all right?”

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she replied quickly, but she couldn’t think of anything more to say without telling the truth. He’s going to ask me what type of family matter, she thought as her heart rate picked. She quickly tried to think of an excuse.

“Yeah, should be fine,” he finally said hesitantly. Tara sensed his suspicion but that he didn’t want to pry, and she relaxed. “Because of the storm, there’s not a whole lot going on today.”

Relieved, Tara thanked him and was soon off the phone. She was about to book the flight when she heard footsteps and felt the presence of someone in the doorframe where the hallway met the living room.

Tara raised her head to see Claire entering the kitchen, already dressed for the day with a duffle bag around her shoulder. She struggled to carry it into the living room before dropping it down on the floor and looked up at Tara, out of breath. She always had a habit of overpacking.

Tara was surprised to see her up this early, and she felt a sudden anxiety bubble up at the thought of Claire overhearing her conversation with Reinhardt.

Tara stood up from her bar stool. “You’re up early. Do you need help with that?”

Claire pushed her bag neatly into the corner of the room. “No, dear, but thank you,” she said as she stood up. “I wanted to get over to the condo early and check on it,” she added as she walked into the kitchen. “Any coffee?”

Tara poured Claire a cup before settling back down in her seat, and the room fell into silence. She looked back down at her phone. She was almost finished booking her flight, and she quickly finished the transaction before looking back up at Claire.

Tara hadn’t even realized that Claire was staring at her skeptically until she looked up.

“Doing something for work?” Claire asked as her eyes moved to Tara’s debit card sitting on the counter.

Tara placed her phone down as she felt her face begin to flush. She didn’t like to lie, especially to John and his family, but she knew she certainly couldn’t tell the truth. Claire did not know about Tara’s father. As far as Claire knew, Tara’s parents were murdered during a break-in gone wrong—it was the story John and Tara had stuck to when his parents spontaneously asked about her family a couple of years ago. Even though John insisted that Tara could tell them the truth—that his parents wouldn’t look at her differently—she refused to tell them. She knew no matter who she told, a change in perception was inevitable, and she certainly didn’t want that to occur with John’s parents.

“Yes,” Tara started before hesitating. “Well, I was, but then I was just buying something I needed.”

Tara knew Claire wouldn’t ask what it was. She was respectful in that way. But Tara also knew that if she were concerned about something, she would push.

Claire reached for the handle on the fridge before grabbing some milk. As she poured it into her mug, she turned halfway to Tara.

“Is that who you were on the phone with before—work?” Claire asked. Her eyes moved from Tara to her mug, which she was now stirring anxiously, awaiting Tara’s reply.

Tara’s heart sank. She had overheard. But how much? She knew she couldn’t now lie. Depending on how much Claire had overheard, she would catch her in it.

“Yes, it was my boss,” Tara replied.

Claire nodded. She opened her mouth briefly as if about to speak before hesitating and twisting her mouth, as if deciding what she was about to say. She placed the milk back into the fridge.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I couldn’t help but overhear. It sounds like you’re going to New York?”

Tara’s stomach twisted into a knot. It was one thing about Claire that always irked her—she didn’t have many boundaries. In Claire’s eyes she was treating Tara like a daughter, but at times it was overboard, and it certainly wasn’t something Tara was used to. She was independent. She kept things to herself unless she wanted to speak of them, and she wanted to keep it that way with Claire. But Claire would never allow it, and it was clear that she had overheard the majority, if not all, of her conversation. And if that were the case, she would know that Tara did ask to leave work early—that she wanted to fly to New York later that day for a personal reason.

Tara searched in all corners of her mind for a response. She needed one that was believable but still kept her father’s imprisonment a secret. My grandmother, Tara thought. I’ll make up something about her estate.

“Yes,” Tara finally said. “My great-aunt has some things of my grandmother’s that she wants me to go through.”

Claire nodded. “That’s a long way to go on a weekday.”

“I kind of just want to get it over with,” Tara shot back.

Tara was growing irritated by