Until You Feel At Home

Chapter Eleven

Claire

There was no doubt in Claire's mind that Brandon's mother had ill will for her. The daggers coming from the woman's eyes would normally have pierced Claire's skin, but she'd found an immediate confidant in Rob's wife, Martha. Every time Deborah Coulter, still sometimes referred to as Mrs. Bloomfield, made an underhanded comment or purposely bumped into Claire, Brandon would direct his mom away with a sympathetic frown in Claire's direction, and Martha would say something equally (if not more) passive aggressive. She always made sure Deborah heard it too.

The day was filled with introductions to everyone and their mother - quite literally - and Claire lost track of names and faces only fifteen minutes in. The hours flew by with each handshake and side-hug. Rob was friendly with everyone, it seemed, and he made for the perfect escort. Brandon appeared at her side, and placed a warm hand on her elbow.

"It's time to lead everyone to the luncheon."

She nodded. "Okay." he stood by, with his thumb caressing her elbow, like he was waiting for more. "Do you need my help?" She asked, trying to distract herself from the rough feeling of his calloused fingers on her skin. Her mouth grew dry as she wondered how they would feel elsewhere.

His voice lowered. "You want me to make the announcement?"

She leaned in closer to him, whispering back. "I don't know anyone here. Of course you should."

He scoffed. "What do you mean, you just met everybody."

She rolled her eyes. "Barely." He let out a deep, labored breath and she felt almost bad enough to make the announcement herself. "Why don't we ask someone who works here to do it?"

He nodded gratefully. "That's a good idea."

"I'll find the funeral director, but Brandon-" He took her tone seriously, staring into her gaze, leaning almost close enough for her to feel his breath. "You're still going to need to speak at the luncheon."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded curtly. "I'll be ready."

Claire slipped away from Brandon's magnetism and started looking for the funeral director. She scanned the viewing room with no luck, grabbed a donut as she peaked into the kitchenette, and then finally craned her neck to see into the sitting room. There was no funeral director, but she did catch a glimpse of a memorable blond ponytail. Ashley was standing with her back to Claire, deep in conversation with Brandon's mother. Claire backed out of view, but listened closely.

"I was at his house after I got the call about Pierce and, let me just tell you, he is suffering. He may not show it, but he is." Debbie said to Ashley, with no care for anyone nearby that might hear her airing out her son's dirty laundry. To his ex-girlfriend, no less. If Brandon knew this conversation was happening, Claire couldn't imagine he'd be very happy about it.

"And how about his drinking?" Ashley asked. "He came to the restaurant a couple days ago and was drinking pretty heavily."

Claire shook her head to herself. The man had two beers, same as Claire.

"He tells me he's taking care of himself but he just tells me what I want to hear."

"Oh, Debbie. You're doing the best you can. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped."

Claire heard one of the women sniffle. "You're right." Debbie said through tears. "But he's my son, I have to keep working on him."

"You know I'd be right by your side helping-"

"Oh, no dear, you did what you had to do. You deserve better."

Claire felt her eyes bulging out of her head. Brandon's mother telling someone she deserves better than her own son felt like the biggest betrayal. As far as Claire could tell, Brandon lived to please his mom, and here she was saying horrendous things behind his back. She couldn't take it anymore. She walked into the room, working to look confident despite the fact that she had no idea what she planned to do. She walked towards the floral arrangement her mother had delivered and read the tag for the millionth time.