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kettle; she'd wander off if Claire wasn't looking, then Claire would spend frantic minutes driving up and down the streets looking for her. She'd cut herself trying to slice an apple or a piece of bread. She'd burn herself touching the hot electric coil of Claire's stove. She would walk outside in her underwear and think nothing of wandering through the house naked.
    After only a few days of this behavior, Claire knew she'd have to do something. But what? If she tried to keep her mother with her, Kitty would require round the clock care—ideally a trained nurse to tend to her needs. Claire simply couldn't afford it. Although Pinehaven Nursing Home was very expensive, at-home individual care was more—much more. So Kitty had ended up at Pinehaven, and Claire had learned to live with her sorrow and guilt, which she assuaged by visiting her mother several times a week. And despite everything, Claire clung to the faint hope that someday, somehow, her mother might recover.
    Now Kitty began to hum. Claire bit her bottom lip and stared out the window. The rain had continued unabated all day long. It was depressing—like my life, she thought—then immediately shook off the dreary thought. There was no percentage in feeling sorry for herself. Instead, Claire always tried to focus on her blessings. She had a good job, she was healthy and strong, and she had the support of her Aunt Lily and Uncle David as well as a few loyal friends.
    I'll make it. I can make it.
    All I have to do is take life one day at a time.
    The one-day-at-a-time philosophy was one self-help groups taught, and it was a wise credo, Claire felt. There really wasn't any sense in worrying about the future because so much of Claire's future was beyond her control. Unlike other young women, she had stopped dreaming about marriage and children. Who would be willing to share the crushing financial and emotional burden Kitty's chronic condition had imposed?
    Dreaming of any other kind of life would only make her own prospects seem more bleak, and Claire didn't want to become bitter—one of those people who resented their lot in life and took it out on everyone around them. No, much better to adopt a one-day-at-a-time outlook and concentrate her energies on moving up in her chosen career.
    Thinking about her career caused her thoughts to meander back to the morning's interview with Nick Callahan. Once again, she realized this was a big chance for her—a chance to really solidify her niche in the company. And if a promotion, bringing more money, should result from it, her life would be eased considerably. Even a couple of hundred dollars a month more would make a tremendous difference in the quality of her life—and in what she was able to do for Kitty.
    Sighing, she forced her attention back to her mother's dreamy face and soft contralto voice as she hummed some old song. "Yesterday." Her father's favorite song. Tears misted Claire's eyes as suddenly she was gripped by nostalgia. Yesterday. How many yesterdays had she come home from school and heard her mother singing in her clear, sweet voice? Those had been such carefree, happy days. She had always felt so secure. She had always known how much both of her parents loved her.
    Other girls had complained bitterly about their mothers. How they didn't understand them. How mean they were. But Kitty had been a loving, supportive mother— someone Claire could always count on. Claire knew many of her friends were envious because she and Kitty were so close.
Oh, Mom. I miss you so much. I wish
—
    "Claire?"
    Claire looked around. She hurriedly composed herself, blinking away her tears when she saw her mother's doctor standing in the doorway to Kitty's room. Dr. Aaron Phillips had been overseeing her mother's care ever since Claire had put her into Pinehaven. His lined face was kindly, his dark eyes caring.
    "How are you?" He flipped through her mother's chart.
    "I'm okay. How's she doing?" Claire walked to where Kitty was