Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2

by Debbie Macomber

  Pete frowned. “I cheated on a test once in seventh grade and I’ve felt guilty about it ever since. The first time I chewed tobacco my dad walked into the room and I swallowed it. I ended up sicker than a dog and I haven’t chewed since.”

  That was a comforting thought. He was obviously a man who learned from his mistakes.

  “Anything else you want to ask me?” While she mulled over the question, Pete said, “I know that if I was ever fortunate enough to have a woman like you fall in love with me, I’d recognize and treasure the gift I had and never look elsewhere.”

  Her heart melted at that. “I’d say your chances just went up considerably, Pete Mason.”

  “They did?”

  She smiled and found he was smiling, too. Oh, yes, Buffalo Valley, North Dakota, was looking better all the time.

  Forty-One

  Teri knew that Bobby was as ready as he could possibly be for this all-important chess match. The two top-ranked chess players in the world would finally meet, and the press was watching carefully.

  Although he wasn’t pleased about her accompanying him to New York, Teri had insisted on it. James was still at home in Cedar Cove, recovering. Teri had asked Christie if she’d look in on him while they were away. Christie had agreed, but reluctantly; when she got back, Teri was going to do a little probing. That relationship seemed to be one step forward, twenty steps back, and neither of them was telling her anything.

  The match, in midtown Manhattan, would be broadcast around the globe. The New York Times had published an article about the elusive Bobby Polgar; the reporter claimed that since his marriage, Bobby had gone into seclusion and had finally emerged.

  On the flight from Seattle, Teri wore a maternity top for the first time. She didn’t really need it yet, but she figured her pregnancy would give the press something to talk about—and an ostensible reason for Bobby’s disappearance from public view.

  They arrived in Manhattan on Saturday afternoon. The match would be staged at a hotel off Broadway the next day. When they entered their suite, Teri was awestruck by the huge bouquets of flowers, fruit baskets and bottles of champagne. This was her first trip to New York, and it was everything she’d expected. Staring out the window at the streets below, she lingered over the dazzling lights of the city. This was some kind of town! Mesmerized, she could hear its heartbeat from thirty-eight floors up.

  “Bobby, will you look at this?” she cried, holding back the draperies and fixing her gaze on the blur of yellow taxis. The billboards flashed advertisements and vendors hawked their wares on street corners.

  “I want to shop,” Teri said longingly. She had a total of two maternity tops in her entire wardrobe. Two. And New York was supposed to have some of the best shopping in the whole world.

  “No,” Bobby said without even a pause.

  “No?” Bobby said it to her so rarely that it was like hearing a foreign language.

  “Later,” he promised.

  She sighed; he was right. Teri’s role now was to support Bobby. After the match there’d be plenty of time to hit the stores. “Will you come with me?” she asked.

  Bobby nodded. “If you want.”

  “It’ll be fun,” she said. Flopping down on the bed, she reached for the room-service menu and flipped through the pages, exclaiming at the selection and the prices.

  The match was to be played at nine on Sunday morning, and Bobby seemed far more relaxed than she was. She’d assumed they’d stay in the hotel, eat their meals there and wait until it was time for Bobby to face the Russian.

  Instead, he suggested they go for a walk. Teri readily agreed. When she’d met her husband the year before, he’d lived in New York in a condo apartment somewhere close to Central Park. She’d never seen his place; after they’d bought the house on Seaside Avenue, Bobby had sold the apartment.

  Outside, the streets were crowded with people of all ages, all backgrounds, all nationalities. There was an almost electric energy, unlike anything Teri had ever experienced. Her eyes darted in every direction and more than once Bobby had to pull her away from street vendors.

  “I can buy a designer purse for thirty bucks,” she cried in protest, glancing over her shoulder. “Don’t you know what a bargain that is?”

  Bobby shook his head. “They aren’t authentic.”

  “But…”

  “If you want a purse, I’ll get you a real one.”

  “Bobby…”

  Her husband refused to listen. Maybe later she’d sneak out and buy some for Rachel and Christie—they’d be thrilled. But, regardless of her disappointment from a shopping perspective, Teri found the walk invigorating. They’d eaten dinner in a genuine New York deli, and she was determined to find a cheesecake recipe to duplicate the fabulous dessert they’d had.

  “Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked when they got back to the room. They could order one on their own television set. She could’ve watched movies the week they’d honeymooned in Vegas, too, only they had better things to do. But this evening, it was far more important that Bobby relax and get a good night’s sleep.

  “A movie?” he asked, sounding puzzled.

  “They have a whole list here. We don’t even have to leave the room.”

  Bobby grinned. “I have my own methods of relaxation.”

  He wore the expression she knew so well. “Bobby! Tonight?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, you’ve got the biggest match of your life in the morning.”

  He walked over to the door, turned the lock and slid the chain into place.

  Teri felt it was only fair to warn him. “In a few months I’m going to be big and fat and you won’t want me.”

  He gave her an odd look. “I will always want you.”

  “Oh, Bobby.”

  They went to bed early that night but didn’t fall asleep until late.

  The next morning, Bobby showed none of the pretournament jitters she’d seen before. He woke, showered and dressed in his usual shirt and pants, nothing special, no “lucky” outfit. Then he ordered coffee and Irish oatmeal for breakfast.

  Teri wore her brand-new maternity top and turned sideways to check her reflection in the closet-door mirror. “Can you tell I’m pregnant?” she asked plaintively.

  Bobby studied her, tilting his head to one side. “Not yet.”

  “I don’t want people to think I’m just fat,” she protested.

  “They will see that you’re beautiful.”

  If he didn’t stop saying that, she was going to start crying. Bobby might not be movie-star handsome, but he had more heart and brains than anyone she’d ever met or hoped to meet. She continually felt grateful—and somewhat astonished—that he loved her.

  As soon as they appeared at the tournament headquarters, on the hotel’s penthouse level, a hush fell over the room. In the world of chess, her husband was the reigning king. Yet he never put on airs or pretensions, never expected special treatment or deference.

  Bobby escorted her to the viewing area, where Teri was given a prominent seat. She noticed television cameras and several monitors placed throughout the room.

  When the Russian player, Aleksandr Vladimir, arrived it was with a grand flourish. He paused by the door, as if waiting for applause before he deigned to enter. When a few people clapped, he gave a slight bow, then removed his black overcoat and draped it over the arm of the burly man on his right.

  Cameras flashed.

  Reporters buzzed with questions.

  Just a minute. Teri narrowed her eyes as she recognized the husky man beside the Russian. He was the one who’d cornered her in the parking lot outside the mall that night last spring. He might even be one of the men who’d abducted Rachel and James.

  Of all the nerve!

  The despicable Vladimir had the audacity to show up with this…this goon! And she was supposed to ignore the fact that he’d threatened her? She’d have to have a little chat with New York’s finest, she thought gri
mly.

  She forced herself to calm down as Bobby and the Russian sat across from each other at the chessboard. A sports commentator for one of the major networks made the introductions, then lowered his voice as he explained to the television viewing audience the importance of this match.

  Last night Bobby had described his strategy to her—how he planned to outwit the Russian. She’d nodded at what she assumed were all the right moments, but didn’t understand much of what he said.

  Teri watched each move intently. Bobby had demonstrated the first eight moves Vladimir was likely to make and how he’d respond. It was the next three that would set up the trap. The trap Vladimir had prearranged so Bobby would lose the match and he’d walk away victorious.

  With the ninth move, Bobby did as he’d been told. The crowd grew silent, then Teri heard scattered murmuring. The Black Hole. Bobby had stepped into the Black Hole. The Russian seemed to be stunned, and Teri had to compliment him on his fine acting job.

  She clenched her fists at her sides.

  Aleksandr looked cocky as he made his move.

  Bobby stared at the board as if he’d been outplayed.

  According to what Bobby had explained, there were eleven moves before the game was lost, with a few possible variations. Bobby made his tenth move. Vladimir executed his, doing exactly as her husband had predicted. Bobby followed. Vladimir smiled triumphantly into the camera and executed his next move.

  At that point, Bobby nodded and slipped his own pawn into position.

  Vladimir frowned.

  “You said eleven moves,” Bobby told him. The microphone picked up the exchange.

  The Russian didn’t speak. He hesitated for a few seconds, then moved again.

  Once again, a hush fell over the room, and the commentator spoke excitedly into the microphone, explaining that the audience was viewing chess history. For the first time ever, a player had maneuvered himself out of the Black Hole. Whether Bobby Polgar won the match or not, history had been made.

  In the end, Bobby did win the match, even though he’d obeyed Vladimir’s instructions.

  “No!” The big Russian leaped to his feet and swore loudly, causing several people to gasp. “You were supposed to lose.”

  “That isn’t what you said,” Bobby reminded him. “You said I had to play the first eleven moves of the Black Hole, which I did. I followed your instructions to the letter.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Teri saw two uniformed police officers enter the room and step forward. They walked directly up to the burly man Teri had recognized earlier. A moment later, two other policemen came in; they marched toward the stage and arrested Vladimir, charging him with fraud and conspiracy to— Teri couldn’t hear the rest, but she fervently hoped kidnapping and assault charges were on the list.

  Bobby was instantly surrounded by reporters. The television cameras followed him as he left the stage and walked toward Teri. Questions were tossed at him from every direction, but Bobby ignored them all. When he reached her, she practically threw herself into his arms.

  “You were incredible!” she cried.

  “Mrs. Polgar, Mrs. Polgar, were you aware of the threat against you?”

  She beamed the reporters a smile. “Oh, yes.” Then, because she wanted them to know she was pregnant, she placed her hand on her stomach. “We’re going to have a baby.”

  “Mrs. Polgar! Mrs. Polgar.”

  “I married the most brilliant man in the universe.”

  “Do you plan to teach your child to play chess?” one reporter asked.

  “No,” Bobby said.

  “Oh, yes, we will,” Teri insisted.

  “Gentlemen,” the commentator called. “I can answer your questions about the match and explain what just happened.”

  The reporters turned toward the other man.

  Before she could say any more, Bobby grabbed her hand. He led her out of the hall and, together with the security people, they were directed to a special elevator and escorted to their suite, where even more flowers had been delivered, along with more champagne.

  As soon as they were alone, Teri flung her arms around Bobby. “Have I told you how attractive your brain is?” she asked, covering his face with kisses.

  “Ah-h, no.” His glasses were askew.

  “I am so crazy in love with you that it’s all I can do not to tear off my clothes and make love to you right this minute.”

  Bobby’s eyes flared as a smile broke out.

  “You arranged everything, didn’t you?”

  He answered her with a slight nod. “Sheriff Davis and I worked it out. He talked to the New York City police.”

  “You told me Vladimir would pay for what he did to Rachel and James.”

  “He will pay in prison.”

  “That’s where he deserves to be.” Teri laughed. Taking hold of his shirt collar, she brought him close enough to nibble on his bottom lip.

  Bobby started to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. “I might bring you to more chess tournaments.”

  “I like that idea.” She eased him toward the bed until he lost his balance and they fell on top of it.

  “I love you, Bobby,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said solemnly. “I know.”

  Forty-Two

  Monday evening, after she’d finished her housework and folded the last clothes from the dryer, Rachel sat in front of the television. Her thoughts weren’t on the game show, however; she couldn’t even have said what it was. For the past week, she’d done her best not to think about the muddle her life had become since she’d broken up with Nate. All her fears about Bruce had proved to be accurate. She hadn’t heard from him since their last awkward conversation. Nor had Jolene contacted her.

  The only thing she was happy about was Bobby Polgar’s success at the chess match in New York—and Aleksandr Vladimir’s arrest. That was truly satisfying. She wondered whether she’d have to testify; if so, she’d certainly be willing.

  The phone rang, startling her. Rachel half expected it to be Teri, who was still in New York.

  Caller ID informed her it was Bruce. Or Jolene.

  “Hi, Rachel,” Jolene said excitedly. “I’m baking a cake and we only have one egg and the recipe says I need three.”

  “Add two extra tablespoons of water,” Rachel advised her.

  “Thanks.” The girl seemed about to hang up when she said, “I haven’t talked to you in a whole week.”

  “I know. I’ve missed you, Jolene.”

  “I’ve missed you, too. Oh, can you hold on a minute?”

  “Sure.” Rachel could hear Bruce talking in the background.

  Then Jolene was back on the line. “Dad would like to speak to you.”

  “Okay.” Her heart started to pound.

  “Hi,” Bruce said. His voice was unusually hoarse, and she wondered if he had a cold.

  “Are you sick?” she asked.

  “Uh, no.” He cleared his throat.

  He didn’t say anything else.

  Rachel kept waiting for him to tell her why he’d wanted to speak to her. “So Jolene’s baking a cake,” she said when she couldn’t stand the silence for one more second. “Any particular reason?”

  “Not really. She said she was in a baking mood.”

  Another silence. She was tempted to get off the phone.

  “You mentioned something the other day, and I wasn’t sure I heard you correctly,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  “Did you tell me you’re not seeing Nate anymore?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate.

  “Why?”

  “None of your business.”

  Under no circumstance was she going to admit to loving him, especially when he’d been so obtuse.

  “Personally, I think you’re making a mistake. I think you should marry Nate.”

  What? Rachel blinked with shock. “Fine, maybe I will. Thank you so much for your helpful advice. I’ll keep it in mind.” With that s
he slammed down the receiver.

  The phone rang again. Again, Caller ID told her it was Bruce. She had no intention of picking up. As the answering machine came on, his voice resounded in the room. “Rachel, I know you’re there. Come on, be reasonable, would you?”

  She turned and shouted back, “No, I will not!”

  She had to get out. Grabbing her purse, she was halfway to her car when she realized she’d been so furious with Bruce she’d forgotten her coat. By the time she’d unlocked the house, retrieved her coat and climbed inside her vehicle, she saw Bruce’s car turn the corner. She sped away and prayed he hadn’t seen her.

  No such luck. Not only did he see her, he followed her into the Safeway lot. He parked two cars over, and left his car the same moment she did.

  “Why are you mad at me?” he asked.

  Rachel ignored him and hurried toward the store, as intent as if she were gathering provisions before a snowstorm.

  Bruce refused to give up. “I don’t understand what I said that was so horrible,” he said, trotting beside her. “Nate Olsen would be a good husband for you.”

  Rachel didn’t deign to reply.

  “He loves you.”

  She continued to ignore him and seized a cart at the outside entrance to the store.

  “Nate has connections and money and prestige.” Bruce collected a cart of his own.

  She’d had enough. Whirling around to face him, she demanded an answer. “Why did you kiss me?”

  “When?”

  “Any of those times.”

  “Why?” he repeated. “I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t have.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.” She shoved her cart past him and noticed that the other shoppers moved quickly out of her way. Apparently these strangers recognized the mood she was in. Bruce, unfortunately, didn’t seem to.

  As she tore down the aisle, Rachel tossed in items, although she had no idea what they were or if she needed them. Bruce was right behind her at the checkout stand.

  When she’d finished paying, he abandoned his empty cart and reached for her groceries. “I’ll carry these for you.”

  “I’m capable of taking out my own groceries.”