Until You Feel At Home

Chapter Five

Claire

Claire's friends were nice enough to load her luggage into the back of her Mini Cooper the morning she left their apartment for the last time. She was entrusting her friends with finding a new rental for the three of them while she was away. She'd have to rely on photos and Zillow listings to plan out her next bedroom. Eric was personally responsible for managing what Claire left behind during the move, though she had to make him swear he wouldn't judge her for how messy it probably was behind her dresser.

He replied, "Avoidance can be a sign of an anxiety disorder."

"See, that's exactly what I don't want you to do." She said with a smirk.

After hugging them goodbye and closing the car door behind her, her hands started to feel like weights. It had never taken so much effort to stick the key in the ignition and twist. She put all her strength into the clutch, pushing the car into drive. Eric had preloaded an audiobook about grief onto her phone. She turned it on the radio and let the narrator fill her thoughts as she turned onto the highway that took Pierce's life.

The drive from Boston to Earnston was two to three hours depending on traffic. Claire was relieved to find early on that the traffic would be no concern. It would have all been in Boston and she got out of the city with no problems. The scenery really changed after 40 or so minutes of driving. The buildings got shorter and the trees got bushier.

She'd never made a trip out to Earnston but she'd heard so many stories from Pierce about the place he grew up, where everyone knew everyone. After leaving his family for Claire's mother he was embarrassed every time he stepped foot in the town. He volunteered for a job that required him to travel and spent most of his nights in hotels. He went home a few times a year just to check on his house, and visit the grave site of both of his parents in the local cemetery. Aside from that, he avoided it at all costs.

She passed the weathered, navy blue "Welcome to Earnston" sign as she entered. The buildings that followed seemed similarly dated. All the houses were neutral colored and relatively boring, but they were each adorned by bright, blossoming gardens or window boxes that turned the streets from frumpy to quaint. There was not a single for sale sign in sight. In a town like this, it was likely they'd all been owned by the same family for generations. No one came or left.

Her rental was on the second floor of a diner. She recognized the neon signs from the AirBNB listing. Behind the diner was a small lot for parking, with one spot labeled "Earnston Flat Parking." The lot was hardly crowded enough to justify assigned parking, but she backed into the spot nonetheless. Per the check in instructions, she was to get the keys inside the diner. The door opened with a jingle, and the smell of coffee and French toast wrapped around her like a gust of wind.

The diner housed about eight booths and four stools against the front counter. There was an older man with thinning white hair reading a book at the register and, from what she could see past the front of the house, one chef doing some prep in the back. The couple occupied booths were accompanied by familiar sounds of forks scraping plates and quiet conversation. Not a signal eye looked up from the table to see who entered, and she sighed with relief. This was exactly the environment she needed for a little while. She approached the counter and cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

The man looked up to her and raised his eyebrows. "You hungry?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm meant to be checking in upstairs."

"Oh." he said and pushed himself off the wall. "I'm Rob, that's my flat up there. Happy to have ya."

"Thanks." She muttered quietly as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a key ring.