Claire Stanton was beginning to enjoy her life. She had a job that she enjoyed, and was her own boss to boot. She was even living on her own in the small apartment above her bakery.

Granted, she didn't own the building that was her livelihood, the bank did. Just give her a little time though, she thought as she opened up for the day, and the property would be hers.

After propping open the front door, she went back inside to man the counter. Abby was late. Again. Ordinarily, Abby would be the one working the register and dealing with the customers, but she had a tendency to drink all night and party through the beginning of her shift. Claire couldn't protest though, Abby was one of the few people willing to work for the low wages that Claire could afford to pay her. Claire could do the job herself, she supposed, but she preferred working in the kitchen, cooking and baking. She was pretty sure the customers preferred it that way too.

"Oh. Claire. Hello. Where's Abigail this morning?"

Irma Jennings was an acquaintance of Claire's parents and loved to gossip. A poor combination in Claire's opinion. She sauntered up to the register in her sensible shoes and age appropriate clothes.

Clair put both of her hands on top of the display counter, bracing herself. "She's running a little late today. I can help you though."

Claire would never understand why these people, who claimed to dislike her so much, actually shopped at her bakery. Maybe it was the freak show appeal. They all wanted to get a good look at Claire Stanton, and if they had to spend some money on a muffin to do so, then so be it.

Irma gave her a grim smile, lips pressed tightly together. "I suppose. I'm here to pick up a cake? It's for my grandson's birthday."

"Right. Let me grab that for you." She turned around to search through the refrigerator behind the counter. "How old is he?" She asked over her shoulder.

"He's going to be six."

"Oh. That's nice." Clair commented, returning to the counter with the boxed cake. "That's a great age."

A bit of a genuine smile appeared on Irma's face. Thinking of her grandson must have made her forget who she was talking too. "Yes, it is." Then she remembered. "It's a pity your parents don't have any grandchildren."

Claire tried to shrug off the mention of her parents.

"But then again, perhaps it's for the best. After all, you're their only child with Shannon gone and one wouldn't imagine that motherhood would be the best choice for you."

The snide comments and stinging remarks weren't a surprise to Claire anymore. Still, the memory of Shannon and what had happened that night still made Claire's stomach drop.

She looked Irma in the eye with determination. "No. I suppose not." She had made a promise to herself when she came back to town that she would be a better person. That she would be better than what people expected of her. "That's going to be thirty-six fifty, Mrs. Jennings."

The older woman paid, took her cake, and made for the exit. Just before she walked out the doorway though, she turned around and looked back at Claire. "Just because you came back to this town a reformed woman, don't expect the people around here to forget what you did."

Claire scoffed at the retiree. Sometimes, all the politeness in the world couldn't erase the memory of a small town. "Don't worry, bitch. You and the rest of the old biddies around here have made that perfectly clear."

Irma seemed a little shaken by Claire's sudden harshness, and she exited the shop in a huff. She nearly knocked over Abby as the younger girl rushed in off the sidewalk.

Abby stopped short in the middle of the shop and watched Mrs. Jennings retreat. Then she lifted her shades and gave her employer and friend the once over.

Claire wasn't that much older than her. Maybe four or five added onto her twenty four years. Today though, the stress on her face seemed to age her a decade.

Claire noticed Abby examining her. "Where the fuck have you been?"

Abby was still wearing her clothes from last night. Jeans that were too tight and torn in the knee and a black top that showed off a fair amount of cleavage. Her makeup needed to be fixed and there was an enormous hickey at the base of her neck.

Abby rolled her eyes and answered, "You know where," as she walked around the counter and stashed her handbag under the register. "Irma is such a bitch. What did she say this time?"

Claire shook her head. "Nothing really, she was just making little comments about Shannon and the fire. Acting like she actually knows what happened."

Abby gave her friend a soft pat on the shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that, girl. I'll try harder to get here on time."

Claire let out a tired laugh.

"What was that for?" Abby asked defensively, checking the change in the cash drawer.

"You? On time? I'll believe that when I see it," she tossed over her shoulder as she made for the kitchen.

Abby rolled her eyes again. "Shut up."

"Oh," Claire held the swinging door open with her foot and looked pointedly at her friend's neck. "And if you insist on whoring around at that garage, at least try not to advertise it to the customers." She smiled and let the door swing shut behind her.

Abby's eyes were in serious danger of rolling back into her head. "Bitch, you need to get laid. Like, yesterday."

Claire worked in the kitchen for the rest of the morning, getting caught up on orders. Abby popped her head in the back just before they were due to go on break.

"You might want to make some more rye for tomorrow or something. That shit is flying off the shelves."

Claire looked up, "Yeah?"

"Mm-hm. It's all these people on those low fat, high fiber diets. They can't get enough of it."

Claire shrugged. "Huh. I'll see what I can do."

Abby continued to linger in the doorway as Claire whipped down the stainless steel work surfaces.

"Was there something else Abby?"

Abby thought about it. "Not really." She tapped her foot. "Well, kind of. But it's no big deal."

Claire looked at the girl. She was a usually nothing but upfront about the things in her life; sometimes a little too upfront. "What is it Abbs?"

Abby sighed and looked Claire straight in the eye. "Did you hear about that explosion last night?"

Claire furrowed her brow. "No. What happened?"

Abby shrugged. "Some cabin up in the woods. Went up like a friggin' mushroom cloud."

"Christ."

"Yeah"

"How'd that happen?"

Abby shrugged again. "Don't know. And neither does anyone else. I just thought you should be aware, 'cause people are talking. They're saying that, well, that maybe you did it."

"Are you shitting me?"

Abby shook her head.

This was just what she needed. More people blaming her for more shit that she didn't do.

"Well, thanks for the heads up. I'm gonna go take my lunch. I'll see you back here at one."

Abby didn't leave. "Claire. You didn't-"

Claire scoffed. "Jesus Christ Abby, you think it was me?"

"No. Not really." She shrugged and thought about what she was going to say. "It's just people talk, and I wanted to hear it from you; the truth."

"Well, it wasn't me. I didn't set fire to anything last night."

Abby nodded. "That's all I needed to know. I'll see you after lunch."

Jax was talking to the doctor with Gemma. Chibs couldn't tell what they were sayin', but judging from their expressions, the news wasn't good. He felt for his brother. He knew the pain that having children could cause you.

A hand on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. He turned around to see that a hospital orderly was trying to get his attention. She was pretty, and a little on the young side. He was sure he'd seen her somewhere before, but for the life of him couldn't think of her name.

"Can I help you, darlin?"

"Yeah." She smiled and blushed a little. "I was just wondering if you had a good time the other night?"

Chibs bluffed without pausing. "Sure thing sweetheart. You should pop in again sometime."

She giggled. "Yeah, I just might." She looked over her shoulder and noticed all of the other sons in the hallway. "Are you guys here about the explosion last night or something?"

Cobs remained impassive. He wanted to see where she was going with this.

"I mean, the whole town's talking about it."

"Really now? And what are they saying?"

The girl shrugged.

"You know. Talking shit, trying to think of who could've done it."

"We'll have all Mayan intel by the morning. We'll have OUR guns back."

"Oh yes we will."

"Speaking of the Mayans," Chibs interjected, "There's a chance some of the locals might be in bed with them."

Clay puffed on his cigar, "What locals?"

"Our locals."

Juice was flabbergasted. "The fuck are you talking about man?"

"I was talking with an orderly at the hospital today. We all know that it was the Mayans behind this, but they all seem to think it was this local girl, just moved back to town a few months ago. Claire Stanton. Apparently she's quite the fire starter." Chins took a drag on his cigarette. "Accidentally killed her older sister when she lit up her family's garage."

Jax nodded. "I remember that. She was a few years behind me in school. Got carted off to fucking juvie after that."

"You think she's in bed with the Mayans?" Clay questioned. "That she's responsible for that blast up there?"

Chins shrugged. "Don't know. But it couldn't hurt to look into it."

Clay nodded. "Alright, where can we find the little pyro?"

"Don't know where she lives, but the orderly said she runs that new bakery in town."

Juice's brow furrowed. "Isn't that where that girl Abby works?"

Tig raised a brow, "That brunette sweetbutt?"

Juice nodded.

"She's got great tits."

"You know this girl?" Clay asked.

Tig nodded. "In a way, I guess I do."

"Alright, stop by that bakery tomorrow. See what you can find out."

"Consider it done."

Clay nodded. "Treasury?"

After the meeting with Darby the next morning, Tig stopped in at the bakery. There wasn't much to the storefront; just plate glass windows offering a view of the interior. He could see Abby standing at the register, picking at her nails. There was a sign over the door reading "Claire's Place," and that was it.

He walked inside. The sound of his boots on the hardwood floor had Abby looking up. When she noticed who it was, she smiled with familiarity.

"Hey Tig."

"Abby. Long time no see."

She shifted her weight. "I know."

"Didn't see you over at the club house last night."

She sighed. "I know. I had some family business to take care of."

He shrugged," Whatever."

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here anyway?"

He took off his shades, and hooked them onto the front of his cut. "Club business, sweetheart. I need to talk with your boss."

Abby's eyebrow shot up even further. "Claire?"

Tig nodded.

Abby shrugged. "She's in the back. You want me to go get her for you?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I'll go find her myself. Wouldn't want to separate you from your work," he explained as another customer came in.

Tig slipped behind the counter and made for the kitchen as Abby turned to help the other person in the shop.

She didn't look like someone who would blow up a munitions factory, but then again appearances could be deceiving. She had a lot of red hair, pulled back in a messy bun. She wore a stained white apron over a green t shirt and jeans, and was covered up to her elbows in flour. She wasn't bad looking. Not really great looking either, though.

Claire was kneading bread dough when she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up from her work to find a man in her kitchen, dressed in all black. She took in his wild hair, facial hair, and finally his cut. Sons. In her kitchen. This couldn't be good.

"Can I help you?" she asked with a warning tone in her voice.

"Yeah, I need to have a word with you."

She smirked at him. "Sorry. My mother always told me not to talk to strangers. Now, if you'll excuse me." She moved to return to her work, but a solid hand clamped down on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

Claire was tired of the people in Charming treating her like shit. She was tired of them using her to suit their own purposes and not giving a damn about what happened afterwards.

When the biker grabbed her shoulder, she caught him off balance and shoved him into a large standing mixer. While he was stumbling over the mixing bowl, she reached for one of the chefs knives she kept in the box on the wall. By the time he regained his footing, she had it pointed at him.

"You stupid bitch, do you have any idea who the fuck I am?"

Claire shook her head. "I don't give a shit about the patches you're wearing. This is MY kitchen, do you understand. You don't have any authority in here."

The angry biker reached underneath his leather vest, pulled out a hand gun, and pointed it right at Claire's chest.

"Put down the knife bitch."

It was right then that Abby stormed through the door to the front of the shop. "What was that noise?" She looked at Tig and Claire, looked and the gun and the knife. "Jesus Christ. What the fuck is going on?"

Neither one of them looked at her. Tig was the first one to speak up. "Tell your crazy-assed boss to put down the knife Abby."

Abby looked at Claire. Something inside her had snapped. "Claire? What are you doing? Put down the knife girl."

Claire shook her head, dislodging a few strands of hair.

Abby slowly moved so that she was standing in between the two of them, right in the line of fire. "C'mon Claire, put down the knife. No one's going to hurt you."

Claire looked at her friend, and looked at the knife. Then she looked back at Abby and heard the knife clatter to the floor.

Tig lowered his gun and stared at the pair of them. What the hell had just happened here? He asked himself. Women like this were the reason he had gotten divorced in the first place.

"Look, The only reason I came here was because I need to ask some questions."

Abby looked over at him. "About the explosion?"

He nodded. "How did you know?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "People have been coming in here for the past two days giving her shit about it."

Tig shrugged. "I don't care about her fragile constitution. I need to know if she's involved."

"I'm not." Claire leaned against the counter behind her in an attempt to steady herself. "I didn't have anything to do with that."

"What about the Mayans? You have anything to do with them?"

Both of the girls looked at him in confusion. "Tig, what the hell is this about?" Abby asked.

He stared at Claire. "Just answer the question."

She looked around her kitchen and muttered, "I don't believe this" under her breath. Then she looked back at him. "I don't have any affiliations with anyone, alright? I just moved back here two months ago to start my life over, alright? I haven't done anything wrong."

"You got an alibi for the other night?"

Claire thought about it. "What time was the blast?"

"Around nine, nine thirty?"

"Yeah. I was in my apartment, on the phone with my parole officer. Check the records." For someone who had just pulled a knife on him, she seemed a little sheepish about having a parole officer.

Tig looked at Abby. "You vouch for her?"

Abby nodded.

"Alright," Tig holstered his weapon, "I'll see you later Abbs." He pointed at Claire, "You stop pulling knives on people." And with that, Tig ended his first visit to Claire's bakery.

Claire was closing up the shop when the Sons road down main street late in the afternoon, heading out of Charming.

"You need to make that right," Abby insisted as she counted the bills in the cash drawer.

"Nothing happened," Claire insisted as she locked the front door.

"Are you shitting me? You pulled a knife on Tig Traeger. Even if you don't hang around with samcro, you don't do shit like that around here of you know what's good for you."

Claire chuckled as she moved to shut off the lights. "Evidently, I don't." Even in the dark, she could sense Abby rolling her eyes.

"Next time I head over there, I'm dragging you with me. Gonna make you apologize."

The two of them walked through the kitchen towards the back exit. "I'd like to see you try."

"I will try, and I will succeed." She turned to go find her car as Claire started up the back steps to her apartment. "Who knows," she tossed over her shoulder, "I might even get you laid."