A/N: I stole this chapter title from the title of the book by S.E. Hinton.

I got this chapter finished pretty quickly, so I decided to go ahead and post it. Thank you to everyone who is still reading this story (and to those of you who have just started reading). I appreciate all of the reviews. Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Nineteen: That Was Then, This Is Now

The last guest pulled out of the parking lot at approximately 7:15 on Tuesday evening, and in Claire's opinion, it couldn't have happened a moment too soon. She'd spent the entire evening mingling with people she either didn't know, hardly remembered, or didn't like. There were a handful of people that she was happy to see, but for the most part, she was just glad that it was over.

After glancing quickly at the guestbook, Claire went out to the lobby, where she found Mr. Peterson, the funeral director, waiting for her. "How did everything go?" he asked pleasantly.

She forced a smile. "Fine."

Mr. Peterson nodded. "I'm glad. We're going to start clearing that room out for you. We're putting all of the flowers in the chapel for the service tomorrow, so they'll be set up when you arrive."

Claire nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

Mr. Peterson smiled. "It's what we're here for. Have a good night, Miss Standish."

"You, too, Mr. Peterson."

The older man offered her a respectful nod before he slipped off down the hall to his office.

Claire walked outside to the parking lot, where the three boys were gathered, waiting for her. She spotted her father's car turning out of the parking lot, and she knew that she was the last one in her family to leave.

"Where's Allison?" she asked.

"She had to use the restroom," Brian told her.

"Are you two leaving now?" she asked, glancing over at Andy.

Andy nodded.

"Well, I'll stick a key under the mat for you. Whoever gets back last can leave it on the table in the foyer."

Brian nodded. "Okay, sounds good."

Andy started fumbling around in his pocket for his keys, and Brian offered her a sheepish smile. "See you guys later."

Claire watched the two of them walk out to Andy's truck, which was one of only a handful of cars that were left in the parking lot. After a couple of minutes, the truck rumbled to life.

Claire watched until Andy's taillights disappeared around the corner. She turned to John, who was standing a few feet away, looking out over the parking lot.

"Do you want to come back to the house for dinner?" she asked him. "We've got more food than we'll ever be able to eat."

John shook his head. "I'd better get back."

Claire nodded, biting back her disappointment. "Sure."

John looked at her for a moment, not saying anything. Then he asked, "When is the funeral?"

Claire felt her stomach tighten apprehensively at the mention of the word. "Ten o'clock," she answered.

"Is it gonna be here?"

"Yes, in the chapel."

John nodded and reached down to zip up his leather jacket. "Okay."

Claire just stood there for a moment, watching him fiddle with the zipper. He was just like she remembered, only better because he was standing right in front of her, so close that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. Suddenly, Claire felt a rush of affection for him, and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Thank you for coming," she murmured into his shoulder.

John didn't move, just stood there as she hugged him. Then, just as she was about to pull away, she felt his arm come up around her side, brushing against the curve of her waist. He didn't touch her, just grabbed onto the hem of her pink silk shirt and curled his fingers into a fist around the delicate fabric.

Claire closed her eyes as a wave of emotion swept over her, rough and unexpected. It was all she could do not to lean forward and kiss John's neck, right above his collarbone, the same spot where she would kiss him back in high school just to hear his breathing grow ragged.

A few seconds later, John let go of her shirt and let his hand fall back against his side. Reluctantly, Claire untangled her arms from around his neck and stepped back.

Immediately, John started digging around in his jacket pocket, looking for a cigarette. He pulled the pack out and busied himself with pulling one of the sticks out of the flimsy container. Claire waited.

Finally, he looked back up at her, his expression sufficiently unreadable. "See you tomorrow," he said gruffly.

Claire nodded, but John didn't notice. He was already halfway out to his car, fumbling with his lighter. She watched him slide into the driver's seat of the car and start the engine. When his car disappeared around the corner, she didn't look away. She stood there, arms crossed over her chest, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke clinging stubbornly to the cold night air, until Allison came outside and asked if she was ready to go.

Brian glanced over at Andy, who hadn't spoken since they'd pulled out of the parking lot a couple of minutes previous. He was frowning slightly, his brow furrowed as though he were deep in thought.

"Do you, uh…do you remember where I live?" Brian asked tentatively, hoping that Andy wouldn't be angry that he'd broken into his thoughts.

Andy glanced over at him, still frowning. Then he blinked and looked back at the road. "Yeah, of course," he replied.

For some reason, this comforted Brian more than it should have. Back in high school, he and Andy had hung out together a lot during the months between detention and the fall semester when Andy left for college in Ohio. Despite their differences, Brian found that he and Andy actually had a lot in common and that they got along very well. Out of everyone in the Breakfast Club, Brian looked up to Andy the most. He still remembered the night Andy used his fake I.D. to buy them a case of beer from the 7-11 down the street from his house. They took the beer out to the baseball field right behind the school and proceeded to drink the entire thing. Both of them were messy drunks, and pretty much all they did was take turns laughing and telling one another stupid jokes. Brian had never been drunk before, but Andy had, and Brian especially valued Andy's expertise the following morning when he woke up with the worst headache of his life and a lot of explaining to do when his mother wanted to know why the sweater she'd given him for Christmas smelled like Budweiser.

"It's the blue one, right?"

Brian glanced up to see that they were on his old street. "Uh, yeah. The blue one."

Andy pulled up to the curb just in front of the house and put the truck in 'Park'. "Is your dad going to drive you back?" he asked.

Brian nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. I'm sure he won't mind."

Andy nodded stiffly. "Well…have a good time."

Brian offered him a hesitant smile. "You, too."

Andy tried to smile, but Brian could tell that he didn't mean it. "Thanks."

Brian hesitated, trying to think of something else to say, but he couldn't come up with anything. Finally, he pushed open the passenger's side door and climbed out of the truck.

His mother pulled the door open before he'd even reached the first step. She kept one hand wrapped around the doorknob, but the other automatically found the curve of her hip. "I thought you were going to call first," she said disapprovingly.

"Oh," Brian stammered. "I'm sorry. I forgot. The viewing didn't end until after seven and--"

"Never mind," she interrupted, pulling the door open a bit wider. He stepped into the house and gave his mother a hug.

"Dinner's almost ready," she said, pulling away. "You should go wash up."

Brian sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

As he watched his mother walk down the hall towards the kitchen, Brian couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was a bad omen.

When Claire and Allison arrived back at the house, Claire saw her father's Mercedes parked in the driveway, which told her that he, Irene and Daniel had beaten her home. Claire pulled up behind her father's car and cut the engine.

When they were inside, Claire hung her jacket on the coat rack next to the front door and turned to Allison. "Are you hungry?"

Allison shrugged. "Kind of."

"We can eat in a few minutes," Claire told her. "I'll go warm something up."

Allison nodded and started walking upstairs.

On her way to the kitchen, Claire found her brother Daniel in the dining room, scarfing down chocolate chip cookies from a platter sitting on the table in front of him. When she walked in, he looked up and nodded, his mouth too full to say anything.

"You know those are Dad's favorites," she warned him, taking her seat next to him.

Daniel nodded and washed the mouthful down with a sip of milk. "There are three plates of them in there. Mrs. Gibbons dropped them off earlier."

Claire sighed. "All of this food is going to go bad before we even have a chance to eat it."

"I'm doing my best to remedy that," Daniel said, flashing her a boyish grin as he picked up another cookie from the plate.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said sarcastically.

Daniel shrugged and took another bite.

"So, are you eating dinner with us?" she asked him.

Daniel shook his head and swallowed. "Not tonight. You remember Chris Frasier?"

Claire nodded. Chris was Daniel's best friend from high school. "Of course."

Daniel nodded. "I'm going over to his house for dinner. I hardly make it out here, and I haven't seen him since his wedding, which was nearly two years ago. He's even got a kid now." Daniel shook his head as if he couldn't believe it.

Claire laughed. "Starting to feel old?"

Daniel laughed. "No, but thanks for bringing it up."

Claire grinned. "Come on. Don't you have any girlfriends up in Seattle?"

Daniel smiled, but she could see that he looked a bit uncomfortable. She remembered that her mother had told her about a girl that he'd started seeing, but that was months ago, and Claire hadn't heard anything since. She wondered if they had broken up or if Daniel just didn't want to talk about it with her. For all of their teasing and affection, the two of them didn't talk very much about their personal lives with one another. She knew that this had a lot to do with the gap in their ages, and maybe also with the way their family communicated in general.

Claire leaned back in her chair. "Dad and Irene are at each other's throats again," she informed him.

Daniel nodded. "I know. I drove with them to the funeral home and back."

Claire sighed. "One of them is going to be dead before the week's over."

"My bet's on Dad. Have you seen Irene's nails?" Daniel asked, holding up his own hand for emphasis.

Claire glared at him. "This isn't funny," she told him seriously.

Daniel nodded and took another sip of milk. "I know, I'm sorry." He paused. "But you've got to admit, it would be kind of fun to watch."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Where are they, anyway?"

"In the kitchen."

Claire's eyes widened. "Together?"

Daniel nodded. "Last time I checked. Of course, Irene may have killed him and stuffed him down the garbage disposal by now."

Claire just stared at him. "Daniel! How could you leave them alone together?"

Daniel laughed. "Claire, relax. They're grown adults. I think they can stand in the same room together without having someone there to babysit them."

Claire definitely didn't agree. "I should go in there."

Daniel put up a hand to stop her, his mouth too full of chocolate chip cookie to do it verbally. Finally, he swallowed the last bit of the cookie and looked up at her. "Just leave them alone. They'll be fine," he assured her.

"How can you be so sure?"

"They've managed to do it for thirty years without your help," he told her.

"Yeah, but that's because--" Then she stopped short, unable to go on.

"Because why?" he prodded, obviously not realizing what she was about to say.

Because Mom was here, she thought. Their mother was the only reason that Irene and their father had managed to act civilly towards one another over the years. In fact, Claire's mother once told her that she'd had to break up a fight between them at her own wedding. And not only had she acted as mediator, but she'd also acted as motivation. Claire knew that her mother wished that her husband and her sister would get along, and she knew that both of them did their best to respect those wishes.

But Catherine Standish wasn't there anymore. Claire was.

"I think I need to go in there," Claire said again, glancing down the hallway separating the two rooms.

Daniel picked up the platter of cookies and held it out in front of her. "Have a cookie," he told her.

Claire paused, and Daniel waggled the plate enticingly. Finally, she sighed and, against her better judgment, picked one up from the plate. "Just one," she promised.

"You can't eat just one," Daniel challenged her. "It's impossible."

Claire rolled her eyes and took a bite. They were delicious. She settled back in her seat and looked up at her older brother. "Have you talked to Dad much since you got back?" she asked him.

Daniel shrugged. "A little."

Claire watched him closely, looking for clues that would help her decipher what he really meant by that. "He hasn't been around much," she observed.

Daniel nodded. "That's true."

Claire let out a shallow, frustrated breath. "Doesn't that make you mad?" she asked, knowing how childish it sounded and not caring one bit.

Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair and put down the cookie he was holding. "You know Dad works a lot," he said evenly.

"Mom died three days ago!" she exclaimed.

Daniel swallowed deeply and looked down at the table.

Claire wiped her eyes with her fingertips, brushing away the angry tears. She knew that she was breaking a unspoken cardinal rule in her family by bringing up an issue that Daniel had apparently decided was best left buried, but she was too far gone to stop. "He could take a week off from work to be with us. It wouldn't be the end of the world."

Daniel took a deep breath. "He needs to be at the office. It helps him to have something to focus on. If he was here all the time, he'd go crazy."

"Crazy?" Claire echoed. "Spending time with us would drive him crazy?"

Daniel sighed. "That's not what I meant."

Claire shook her head. "You never come home. Doesn't it upset you that he spends all of his free time in the office instead of with you?"

Daniel shook his head. "We all have different ways that we grieve. This is Dad's way."

"What about our way?" she asked him.

Daniel apparently didn't have an answer for that because he didn't even open his mouth to speak. Claire leaned back in her seat a little, knowing that she'd crossed an invisible line. She and Daniel never fought, partially because he hated confrontation, partially because she adored him, and partially because there was never anything to fight about. Until now.

Claire watched him for a couple of minutes, waiting for him to say something, but he never did. It scared her to think that the only person in the house that she could really depend on was angry with her, and she hoped that it wasn't true.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I just…"

Daniel nodded. "It's okay," he said casually.

But Claire could still feel the tension in the air, and she knew that she'd just made a mistake. "When do you have to be at Chris's house?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Eight o'clock." He glanced down at his watch. "I should probably go."

"You're not going to be hungry after eating all of those cookies," she chided, forcing a playful tone.

Daniel smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I think I'll be okay."

Claire nodded. "I'm sure you will," she agreed.

Daniel stood up and offered her the plate of cookies. "You want another one?"

Claire shook her head. "No, thanks."

Daniel pushed his chair in behind him. "Well, I'll see you later. Probably tomorrow morning."

Claire nodded. "Yeah, sure. Tell Chris I said hi."

Daniel nodded. "I will. Have a good night."

"Goodnight," Claire echoed, watching him leave. She waited for him to turn around and come back in the room to give her a hug or tell her that things would be okay, but he didn't. Claire sat there, staring at the table top littered with cookie crumbs, and wondered how everything got so screwed up.

A/N: Please review. Thanks!