A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you for all of the reviews. I smile when I see one in my email box. : )

Chapter Fourteen: Body Language

Brian stayed in his room reading until about nine o'clock, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. A few minutes before nine thirty, he walked downstairs to the kitchen, where he found a plate of warm toast sitting on the counter. Brian felt his stomach growl, and he sat down on one of the stools and took a piece of toast from the plate, which was stacked high with golden brown triangles. Then he opened up his copy of Sister Carrie and ate while he read.

He'd been sitting there for about ten minutes when Claire walked in, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor, a stack of papers clutched against her chest. Her hair--which was much longer than it had been in high school, falling just past her shoulders--had been pulled back with a clip, and she was wearing a black knee-length skirt with a pale blue lacy top. She looked like she was going to a job interview.

"Good morning," said Brian.

Claire smiled. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Brian nodded and pushed the plate of toast away from himself. "Breakfast?"

Claire shook her head. "No, I've had some already." She sighed and took a seat next to him at the kitchen counter. "The D.A.R. is coming over."

Brian blinked. "The what?"

Claire sighed again. "The Daughters of the American Revolution. It's this group that my mom was a part of. It's like a historical society or something."

Brian nodded uncertainly. "Oh."

Claire tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and reached for a piece of toast, which she picked at, but didn't eat. "They're coming over to help me get ready for the funeral."

Brian nodded again. "That's nice of them."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Not really. They just want to sit around and act sympathetic." She pulled an envelope from the stack of papers in front of her, then turned to face him. "I was actually wondering if you could do me a favor."

Brian nodded quickly. "Of course."

Claire looked at her watch, a thin silver piece with a small face. "The women from the D.A.R. will be here in less than thirty minutes, but I have to have this envelope delivered to the funeral home by lunchtime, and I don't know if they'll be gone by then. I was thinking maybe you could take it for me."

Brian hesitated. "Well, I don't have a car."

"But Andy does," said Claire, smiling wanly. "I would ask him myself, but…"

Brian nodded understandingly. Andy had pretty much kept to himself since they'd arrived, and it was clear that he didn't want to be there. Brian imagined that Claire probably felt uncomfortable asking him to do her a favor when it was because of her that he was there in the first place. "I can ask him for you," he said.

Claire smiled gratefully and handed him the envelope, which was blank and unsealed. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

Brian nodded. "No problem. I'll go ask him right now." He stood up from the stool and flashed Claire an encouraging smile. "Good luck with your meeting."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Thanks. I'm going to need it."

Brian laughed and walked out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the second floor. When he reached Andy's room, he hesitated for only a moment, then knocked firmly on the door.

There was some rustling inside, then footsteps. A few seconds later, Andy opened the door, yawning widely.

"Hey," said Brian.

Andy nodded, apparently too sleepy to speak.

Brian cleared his throat. "Uh, Claire wanted us to…I mean, she asked if we could run an errand for her. To take this paper--" He held up the envelope so that Andy could see it. "--I mean envelope, to the funeral home. She'd got a group of ladies coming over to the house in a little while, so she can't do it herself, and I don't have a car, so I told her that we could take yours. I think she said this had to be over there by lunchtime, so--"

"So, I need to take you to the funeral home?" Andy interrupted, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

Brian hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

Andy sighed and looked back over his shoulder, then back at Brian. "I need to change clothes," he said bluntly.

Brian nodded. "Of course. I'll just wait for you downstairs."

Andy nodded and stepped back into the room, shutting the door behind him. Brian let out a deep breath and turned around so that he could walk downstairs.

That went well.

Allison stood in front of the mirror of the guest bathroom, staring back at her reflection. She was wearing an Annie Golden t-shirt and a pair of striped boxer shorts, and her hair was flat on one side from sleeping on it. She tried running her fingers through it to fluff it up, but it didn't really work. She supposed that she could probably use some kind of gel or mousse to give it more volume, but she had never put anything on her hair before that she didn't have to wash out in the shower. Besides, that was the beauty of the pixie cut: she didn't have to do anything to it.

Allison let her eyes travel down to her chest, which was covered in the baggy shirt that she'd stolen from a thrift shop down the street from her apartment building. She lifted up her arms and pulled the shirt over her head so that she was standing there in a bra and a pair of boxers. Tentatively, she ran a hand over her pale, flat stomach, her eyes still glued to her reflection in the mirror.

Her body hadn't changed much since high school. She was still long and thin, perhaps a bit thinner even. Her breasts were on the small side, but she'd never minded all that much. She knew she wasn't destined to be a supermodel, and she wouldn't have wanted to be one, even if she had the body.

Allison looked away from the mirror and down at the counter, where a few of her toiletries were sitting in a messy pile. She'd forgotten toothpaste and deodorant, a fact that she'd only become aware of the night before. The deodorant wasn't a huge issue just yet, but the toothpaste was. Last night, she'd used some from a tube that she'd found sitting on the bathroom counter. Brian's or Andy's most likely. It felt strange to her that she could be using Andy's toothpaste, so she pretended that it was Brian's.

She'd just applied a thin line of toothpaste to the brush and stuck it into her mouth when suddenly the door flew open and Andy stepped in. When he saw Allison standing there wearing nothing but a bra and a pair of boxers, he stopped short, his mouth dropping open. "Oh--" He looked away and stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed.

Allison felt like her stomach was about to fall out of her bellybutton. Quickly, she picked up her shirt and threw it on over her head, the arm sleeve getting momentarily tangled with the toothbrush dangling from her mouth. Then she grabbed a handful of toiletries that she'd left on the counter and opened the door again.

Andy was standing out in the hall, looking back at his room as if he couldn't decide whether to stay or go. When he heard the door open, he glanced back at her and offered her an apologetic look. "Sorry," he muttered.

Allison just nodded, her heart hammering too loudly for her to think of anything else to say. Plus, she still had the toothbrush in her mouth, and she could feel a drop of toothpaste working its way onto the corner of her mouth. She felt like a complete idiot. So she did the only thing she knew to do.

She ran.

Well, it wasn't exactly running, more like speed walking. She rushed back to her room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment to catch her breath. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, but she couldn't really focus on any one thing. Well, that wasn't exactly true, because she was aware of one thing: Andy had seen her without her shirt on. In her bra. And boxer shorts. With a toothbrush in her mouth.

She felt like she was seventeen all over again.

Well, this morning is off to a great start.

Andy watched Allison disappear into her bedroom before he let out a deep sigh and walked into the bathroom again. He glanced around, hoping he wouldn't find her underwear or tampons lying around. Well, maybe her underwear wouldn't be so bad.

He washed in face in the sink and used a wadded up hand towel to dry his face off. It smelled faintly of flowers, and Andy wondered if the scent came from a fabric softener or from Allison. No, Allison didn't use perfume.

Andy shook his head. Sharing a bathroom with his ex-girlfriend--no, with Allison--was definitely not something that he'd signed up for when he'd agreed to come back to Shermer. In fact, if he'd known of his living situation in advance, he probably would have told Brian that he wasn't going.

Come to think of it, there were a lot of reasons that he would have said no if he'd known about them in advance.

Andy sighed and reached for his toothpaste, only to find that the cap was missing. He looked around for a moment and finally found it on the counter in front of his deodorant. He brushed his teeth quickly, put on some deodorant, and walked out of the bathroom.

When he got downstairs, dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, he found Brian sitting at the kitchen counter reading a thick book. He glanced up as Andy walked in. "You ready?" he asked.

Andy nodded.

Brian nodded to a plate of toast sitting on the kitchen counter. "Do you want to eat before we leave? They're still warm."

Andy felt his stomach turn over at the thought. "No, that's okay."

Brian nodded and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "Okay, let's go."

After giving Brian the envelope to give to Mr. Peterson, Claire tried calling her father at his office. The phone rang more than a dozen times before she finally hung up, exasperated. Where is he?

She spent the next fifteen minutes getting the house ready for the D.A.R. women. She didn't care one bit about what they thought of the house or of her, but she knew that her mother would, so she made sure that the dining room and the sitting room were as neat and presentable as possible. She even pulled out a tray of lemon bars that someone had brought over and put them on the dining room table as a snack.

She was in the kitchen trying to find some napkins when Allison wandered in wearing a pair of jeans and a black Ramones t-shirt. She was glancing around the room as though she was either lost or looking for someone.

"Good morning," said Claire.

Allison looked up, startled. "Hey," she said, walking up to the kitchen counter.

"Did you sleep well?"

Allison nodded and took a piece of toast from the plate on the counter, then paused and looked up at Claire for permission. Claire nodded. "Do you want some milk or something?"

Allison nodded and swallowed a bite of toast. "Okay."

Claire grabbed a glass from the cabinet next to the refrigerator, then took the milk carton out of the refrigerator and poured her a glass. Allison accepted it without a word and continued eating her toast.

Claire spent the next few minutes tidying the kitchen, all the while sneaking glances at Allison, who was making quick work of the toast in front of her. Claire couldn't really tell what Allison was thinking--about the toast or her trip to Shermer--but she didn't quite know how to find out. Allison hadn't volunteered much about her life in New York over the past three years, and Claire had to admit that she was afraid to ask. New York was a big city, and the only parts of it that Claire had seen were the hotels and the department stores of Midtown and the Upper East Side. She was pretty sure that Allison's experience was a lot different than hers.

"Is someone coming over?"

Claire looked up. "Sorry?"

Allison nodded at the stack of napkins Claire was folding. "Is someone coming over?"

"Oh." Claire sighed. "Yeah, some of my mother's friends from the D.A.R. These are just for snacks." She paused. "You can stay with us, if you want, but it'll probably be really boring."

Allison nodded and took another sip of milk, and Claire figured she had her answer. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang, and Claire glanced down at her watch. 9:54. They were early.

"I'll be right back," said Claire. Allison didn't respond, just picked another piece of toast up from the stack and took a large bite.

When Claire opened the door, she was surprised to see John standing on her front porch, hands jammed into the pockets of his faded black jeans, his hair ruffled as though he'd just rolled out of bed. He still hadn't shaved, and the growth looked about four or five days old, by her estimation.

Claire smiled nervously. "Um, hey. Come on in."

John nodded politely and stepped into the foyer, then waited for her shut the door so that she could lead him into the kitchen. "Brian and Andy just left to run an errand for me, but they should be back later," she said. They walked into the kitchen, where Allison was still perched on the stool at the kitchen counter eating. When she heard them approaching, she turned and let her eyes fall on John.

John nodded in her direction, and Allison, mouth full of toast, managed a crooked smile. Claire waiting for them to greet one another, but neither of them said anything, just looked back at Claire as if awaiting further instructions. It occurred to her that she was the one that had asked them to come back to Shermer in the first place, and they were probably still wondering what she need from them. As if she knew the answer any more than they did.

Claire turned to John, who hadn't spoken a word since he'd arrived. "I was just telling Allison that some of my mother's friends are coming over in a few minutes, and I don't know how long they'll be here." She paused uncomfortably. "You can stay here if you want, or you can leave and come back when they're gone. Then we can…" She trailed off, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. Then we can what, Claire?

John cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort, which meant that some things never changed.

"Do you have a car?"

Claire and John both glanced over at Allison, who was watching them from her stool. She glanced over at John and lifted her eyebrows expectantly. "Do you?"

John nodded. "You wanna take it for a spin?"

A ghost of a smile passed over Allison's face. "You'd let me do that?"

John scoffed. "Hell, no."

Allison grinned, and John smirked. Claire felt her stomach tighten, a wave of jealousy washing over her unexpectedly. Allison took another sip of milk and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I need a ride to the grocery store," she said, looking straight at John.

"So?" asked John.

Allison appeared unfazed by the comment. "So, I need you to take me. I forgot some stuff."

"What do I look like, a chauffeur?"

Allison just stared back at him, waiting for a real answer.

"I can take you," Claire blurted.

John glanced over at her, frowning. "I thought you had people coming over."

Claire felt her cheeks heating up again. "Oh…yeah, I do. Never mind."

John looked back at Allison. "You wanna go now?"

Allison shrugged and stepped down from the stool, grabbing the grey knit jacket that she'd draped over the stool next to her. Claire watched the two of them for a moment, noting the effortless way they communicated. They had been that way in high school too, exchanging glances and making faces that Claire could never decipher. She remembered feeling left out when she spent time with them, and the feeling returned as she stood there in her kitchen, watching them get ready to leave.

"You need to get money or anything?" John asked. Allison shook her head briefly, and he nodded, then started walking out of the kitchen. Claire and Allison followed him into the foyer, but before he could open the door, the doorbell rang. Everyone froze, staring at the door.

Claire felt a wave of dread wash over her. "That's for me," she said flatly. She took a deep breath and walked over to the door, hesitating for only a moment before she opened it.

There were about ten women gathered on the front porch, all of them dressed as though they were en route to an important business meeting or political rally. Claire automatically recognized Caroline Hartford, one of her mother's closest friends from the group.

"Oh, Claire, sweetie," she said, stepping forward to embrace her warmly. Claire let herself relax into the hug for half an instant before letting go.

"Hello, Mrs. Hartford," she said politely.

"How are you holding up, dear? You look so lovely in blue." Mrs. Hartford gave her the once-over, then looked back up at her face. "You look so much like her, you know."

Claire didn't know whether to burst into tears or shove the door in her face. So, she just stood there, smiling. "Thank you," she said lamely.

Mrs. Hartford nodded sympathetically, and the women beside her followed suit, their eyes heavy with sadness, some of it real and some of it for show. Claire kept the smile plastered onto her face.

Then she remembered John and Allison. She glanced behind her and saw them standing a few feet away, watching her quietly. "Oh, sorry," she said, turning back to the women on her porch. "These are m--" She stopped, wondering what she was supposed to call them. My friends?

John cocked an eyebrow expectantly, and Claire felt her stomach tighten into a little ball. It was like he was daring her, after all these years, to reclaim them as friends. But is that what he even wanted in the first place, or did he just want to watch her squirm? He'd hardly said two words to her since he'd arrived, and his body language was cold and unwelcoming, especially when he was around her. What was he thinking?

Claire looked back at the women gathered on her front porch and smiled as brightly as she possibly could. "This is John and Allison."

The women nodded and murmured their greetings as John and Allison stepped onto the porch, brushing past them to get to John's car. Most of them were polite, but Claire could see the way their eyes flickered down to John's Metallica t-shirt and Allison's ratty coat. She watched as one woman's nose turned up as John passed, the smell of nicotine obviously too much for her sensitive nostrils. Claire expected to feel embarrassed, but instead felt a shiver of satisfaction go down her spine.

When John and Allison reached his car, Claire looked back at Caroline Hartford, who was watching her with a tender, unreadable expression on her face. Claire suddenly realized that she still hadn't invited them into her house. She could only imagine what her mother would have done if she'd been there to see her only daughter forget all of her manners in front of her closest friends.

"Come in," said Claire, stepping aside to give the women room to pass by. Caroline Hartford smiled and touched Claire's arm lightly as she passed, but the other women immediately started walking into the sitting room, making comments about the artwork and the marble flooring as they went. When the last woman entered the house, Claire took a peek outside, where she could see John's small black car pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. She closed the door and looked back towards the sitting room, where she could hear the women talking about an antique bud vase her mother had purchased at an auction last summer.

Claire took one last deep breath, then walked into the sitting room to entertain her guests.

A/N: This chapter is part one of two, in a way. I'll try to have the next one out as soon as possible. Please leave me a review. Thanks!