92 Pacific Boulevard

by Debbie Macomber

  “Come on by,” Teri said. “I’d love the company.”

  “That’s…the problem. I don’t have a car.”

  “What happened?”

  Christie didn’t want to go into all of that now. “Has Bobby hired a new driver?”

  “Not yet. Bobby’s positive James will return. I—”

  “Please don’t talk about James,” she interrupted stiffly. Even his name was enough to make her stomach tense.

  “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”

  “I do.”

  “Take a taxi to the house and I’ll pay for it.”

  Although Christie appreciated the offer, she refused to do that. “I’ll take the bus.”

  “Christie, don’t be silly.”

  “It’s no problem. Buses run regularly this time of day.”

  Still Teri hesitated. “I’d come and get you myself but the doctor doesn’t want me driving.”

  Christie wasn’t surprised. Teri was due in May, although with triplets she’d probably deliver early. “When did he say you couldn’t drive?”

  “At my last visit. Doc wants to play it safe. Okay, I know it’s for a good reason, but I have to tell you I’m going crazy sitting around the house. I could definitely use a distraction.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Grab a taxi,” Teri insisted again.

  “I’ll think about it.” Actually, Christie already had and she’d dismissed the idea. She was coming to Teri for a loan as it was and she didn’t want her sister having to open her wallet for cab fare before they’d even begun the conversation. And no way was she spending fifteen hardwon dollars herself if she didn’t have to.

  There was nothing wrong with the bus. She would normally have considered it for transportation to her job, but she worked the early shift at Wal-Mart and the bus schedule was extremely limited at that time of the morning.

  The queasiness in her stomach hadn’t lessened as she made the long trek down Teri and Bobby’s driveway. Walking to the house, she automatically glanced at the garage and the apartment above it, where James had once lived. She chastised herself for looking.

  James was out of her life, out of all their lives. Bobby might be deluding himself that his driver and best friend would return. Best friend, now that was a joke. Some friend James had been!

  When she finally reached the door and rang the bell, her nose had lost feeling. Her winter jacket was little protection against the wind, which seemed to slice straight through her. She kept her hands clenched in her pockets for warmth.

  “You’re frozen!” Teri shrieked when she saw her. “I told you to take a cab.”

  Rather than start an argument, Christie conceded. “Yeah, I should have.”

  “Come in, come in.” Teri pulled her into the house and helped her off with her coat and gloves.

  Mutely Christie followed her sister into the kitchen and gladly accepted a mug of hot herbal tea. The first sip burned all the way down her throat, but Christie didn’t care. The taste and aroma of the tea revived her.

  Slipping onto a stool at the breakfast bar, she braced her elbows there, clutching the mug with both hands, as she considered the best approach to asking her sister for the loan. This was even more difficult than she’d expected. It made her feel like such a failure when she was working so hard to get her life on track. Her credit had been ruined by yet another deadbeat she’d thought she could transform. There’d been a transformation, all right—a negative one. The guy had become an even bigger jerk, and he’d ripped her off, to boot. Why was it lessons like this had to be so painful, with consequences that lingered for years?

  Teri seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

  “I took your advice,” she said conversationally.

  Teri set her mug on the counter and clambered onto the stool directly across from her. “What advice was that?”

  “Remember when you said I should make some positive changes in my life? You were right. I’ve signed up for two courses at the community college in Bremerton.”

  “Really?” Teri seemed impressed.

  Actually, Christie was impressed with herself. “I never figured I’d be hanging around a college campus at my age.”

  “You’re not old.”

  Christie laughed. “I am compared to most of those kids.” Shaking her head, she sighed. “Were we ever that young?”

  “We were born old,” Teri said with a sad look. “The education we got wasn’t in history or literature, it was in the ways of the world.”

  That was true. Having grown up with an alcoholic mother and a series of stepdads and “uncles,” Christie knew they’d both been robbed of a normal childhood.

  “So tell me—” Teri changed the subject “—what are you taking?”

  Christie’s heart raced with excitement as she said the word. “Photography.”

  Teri’s eyes widened. “Why photography? I didn’t know you had any interest in that.”

  “I didn’t until recently.” She might as well let it all out. “I went in to the agent to pay my car insurance premium—while I still had a car—and he was on the phone.” It’d been one of those rare instances, Christie realized later, when an opportunity had presented itself at precisely the right moment. “He was bemoaning the fact that there isn’t anyone locally to document household inventory for home insurance purposes.”

  “So…”

  “So when he got off the phone, I asked him what would be involved in learning to do this, and he told me. On his advice, I registered for Basic Photography and Elementary Business. He said if I was willing to follow through, he had two assignments coming up that he could give me. Plus, he’d pass the word along to other agents in town.”

  “That’s great!”

  Christie shrugged. “I started the class last week and there’s a lot more to taking a picture than you’d think. This isn’t just point and shoot. I have to learn about lighting and lenses and all kinds of stuff.”

  “But you’ll get there.”

  Teri’s confidence in her was reassuring. Christie sipped her tea again, then decided she couldn’t delay this any longer. With a deep breath, she looked up at her sister.

  “Do you know why I’m here?”

  Teri didn’t answer; instead, she reached for her own tea. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face and secured at the nape of her neck and she wore no makeup at all. Under ordinary circumstances she wouldn’t consider herself dressed without styling her hair and applying lip gloss. That was the bare minimum.

  “Do you really want to play guessing games?” her sister asked.

  “No.” Christie straightened and met her eyes. “I need a loan.”

  There, it was out, although the words had nearly stuck in her throat.

  “How much?”

  “I need reliable transportation.”

  “You mean a new car?”

  “Yes. Well, no. A used car.”

  “Have you found one?”

  “Not yet…”

  “Will five thousand be enough?” Teri asked.

  Christie nearly swallowed her tongue. “No.”

  “Ten?”

  “No, no, I meant five thousand would be far too much.” Christie fully intended to pay back every penny, with interest. If her credit rating hadn’t been ruined, she would’ve applied for a bank loan. But that was out of the question now. Reestablishing her credit was taking far longer than she’d thought it would.

  “Three thousand?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of one thousand,” Christie said. She should be able to repay that amount within a reasonable period of time.

  “That’s not enough! You’d only be getting yourself another junker. We’ll begin with five thousand,” Teri insisted.

  “Teri…I can’t.”

  “You can and you will, and that’s the end of it.”

  Undecided, Christie bit her lip. “You’ll want to talk this over with Bobby.”

&nbs
p; Teri sipped her tea. “I already did. He only had one stipulation.”

  Maybe Christie should’ve been surprised that her sister had known the purpose of her visit, but she wasn’t. “Which is?”

  “That you let someone help you.”

  “In what way?”

  “Finding the right car.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t want to admit how inadequate she felt when it came to purchasing a vehicle. Generally she looked at the interior. The cleanliness and appearance of the car indicated how well the previous owner had cared for the engine—at least, that was her theory. Perhaps not a very accurate basis for judgment, but Christie knew next to nothing about anything mechanical.

  “Who?”

  “Bobby has a friend who’d be willing to do the research.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “It’s a guy in the business. Let Bobby handle it, okay?”

  “Okay.” Christie had no objection to that; in fact, she was grateful. “Fine by me. If this guy doesn’t mind, have him pick it out and buy it. I don’t need to be there,” she told her sister. Besides, between her job at Wal-Mart and her photography and business classes, she didn’t have spare time to be running around checking out used cars.

  Then, because she was afraid she hadn’t adequately expressed her gratitude, Christie added, “Thank you.” Her voice trembled.

  “I want to help,” Teri said. “You’re my sister.”

  “I’m so glad I have a sister.” For far too long they’d done their best to ignore each other.

  “I’ll sign loan documents.” Christie had a stipulation of her own. She wasn’t a charity case and wanted Teri to understand she wouldn’t accept this money as a gift. This was a loan and an opportunity to prove herself. “I’m going to pay that money back, plus interest.”

  “Whatever you want.” Teri sounded as if repayment was of little concern to her.

  “It’s more than what I want, Teri,” Christie said. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  Teri smiled down at her tea.

  “What’s so funny?” Christie asked.

  “My little sister’s finally grown up.”

  It would’ve been easy to take offense at that comment, with its implication that Christie was—or had been—immature. However, her sister’s willingness to fork over the money precluded that. And, in all honesty, Christie couldn’t completely disagree.

  Bobby walked into the room just then. His eyes went instantly to his wife. He didn’t seem to notice that Christie was there, too.

  “Hello, Bobby,” she said, loudly enough to catch his attention.

  He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Did you tell her?” he asked, directing the question to Teri.

  Bobby Polgar was a man of few words, but Christie could never doubt that he loved her sister. From a very young age Bobby’s world had revolved around chess; it had been his whole life until he met Teri. According to her, the defining moment in their relationship had come the day Bobby confessed that his whole existence was about thinking. Chess required strategy, deliberation and the ability to forecast consequences, and he’d transferred those cerebral skills into every aspect of his life. But Teri made him feel.

  Christie realized that James had just the opposite effect on her. For most of her adult life, her decisions had been driven by emotion. But he’d made her think. He’d made her reconsider the way she was living—from one day to the next with no greater ambition than getting to the end of the week and going to the Poodle for a beer. Because of him she had goals and purpose. His defection had made her even more determined. James had hurt her, and hurt her terribly, but this time, for the first time, she was using the pain inflicted by a man to learn and to grow.

  Christie dismissed the thought. James was no longer part of her life.

  Teri caught her eye. “He phoned.”

  Playing dumb was her only option. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “James,” Bobby said excitedly.

  Christie stopped herself from asking where James was living now and how he was doing. No doubt he’d escaped to someplace far from Washington. It didn’t matter. Nothing that happened to James Wilbur or Gardner, or whatever he called himself now, concerned her.

  “Oh.” That was all she was capable of saying.

  “Don’t you want to know what he said?” Teri asked.

  “No.” She shook her head.

  Teri huffed out a sigh. “That’s not true. You’re dying to hear the details, but you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

  Shaking her head more adamantly, Christie denied that. “Nope.”

  “He’s sorry,” Bobby said. He stood behind Teri, his hands on her shoulders.

  No man would ever look at her the way Bobby Polgar regarded her sister, Christie realized. She wasn’t jealous; she ached to be in a relationship as caring and real as the one Teri had with her husband. Well, get over it, she mused. Because it’s not going to happen. Nor would the children she’d always dreamed of having…

  “Who’s sorry?” she asked, continuing the pretense.

  “James.” Teri rolled her eyes. “You’re pretty transparent, little sister, so drop the act.”

  “It’s not an act.” Christie slid off the stool. “Anyway, I should get home.” She had a long walk to the bus stop and didn’t want to waste time on idle conversation with her sister. Especially if James Wilbur was going to be the topic.

  “All right,” Teri said in that superior way of hers. “Whatever you say.” She made her skepticism abundantly clear.

  “Fine.” She hungered for information about James but refused to ask, refused to let Teri or Bobby say one word about him. She wasn’t giving James an opportunity to creep back into her thoughts or her life.

  Teri insisted on calling a taxi and tucking a twenty into Christie’s pocket. Although she made a fuss, Christie was thankful. Before she left the house, she hugged both Teri and Bobby, and Teri promised to call as soon as she heard about the car.

  True to her word, Teri phoned less than twenty-four hours later. Bobby’s friend had located an older vehicle in relatively good condition for under five thousand dollars. The gas mileage was low; it even had a CD player and automatic locks.

  “Perfect!” Christie said, so happy she could barely hold still. “What color is it?”

  “What color?” Teri repeated. “White.”

  Christie couldn’t squelch her disappointment. “I was hoping for blue.”

  “You can have it repainted later if it bothers you that much.”

  “It won’t—I’m just being silly. I’m so grateful to have a car.” And if it was as reliable as her sister seemed to think and had such nice extras, she wasn’t about to complain.

  “Shall I have it delivered to your apartment?”

  “Please,” Christie said. “Thank you, Teri,” she said, “thank you, thank you. I promise I’ll pay you back—with interest.”

  “Okay. It’ll get there soon.”

  Fifteen minutes later, the knock on her door told her that her new car had arrived.

  When she saw James Wilbur standing on the other side of the torn screen, she followed her instinctive reaction, and that was to slam the door. A torrent of emotion overwhelmed her as she leaned against the wall. Her knees gave out, and she started to slide downward.

  There was another knock, this one louder and more insistent. She had to answer, Christie thought reluctantly. Any kind of reaction would encourage him and that wasn’t Christie’s intention.

  Collecting herself, she straightened and opened the door again. She had to admit James looked good, although she made every effort to stare right past him.

  “I apologize,” she said. “The door, uh, got away from me.”

  He smiled at her explanation as though it amused him. Well, fine, he could be as amused as he liked. But not at her expense.

  She was furious with Teri and Bobby. They’d tried to pull a fast one on her—and they’d succeeded.
Christie supposed she should have figured it out. Teri’s vague talk of a friend “in the business,” the sudden mention of a phone call from James…Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Teri would be hearing a few angry words about this.

  No, she decided. She’d put her anger aside and overlook their trick in gratitude for all their help—although she wouldn’t forgive them a second time.

  “I brought your car,” he said and held up the keys.

  “Thank you,” she said, keeping her voice emotionless. Indifferent. But her awareness of him had never been sharper than it was just then. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, she’d rather keel over dead than give James Wilbur any indication of her feelings.

  “Can I show it to you?” James asked. His eyes burned into hers, sending silent messages—that he needed to talk to her, be with her.

  “That won’t be necessary, but thank you for offering.” She opened the screen door far enough to pluck the keys from his hand. Then, with a polite smile, she quietly closed the door.

  To be on the safe side, she turned the dead bolt—unsure whether this was an attempt to keep him out or her in.

  Chapter Twelve

  Footsteps. Faith Beckwith heard them outside her bedroom window. Whoever was there made no effort at stealth. Someone was about to break into the house and didn’t care if she knew.

  Paralyzed with fear, Faith stopped breathing. The clock radio said 2:14. At first she’d assumed the movements, which couldn’t be more than a few feet from her window, were just her imagination. But now there was no question—someone was there, crunching through the hardened snow in the backyard. Whoever it was might even be looking inside. Although she was buried under blankets and the blinds were closed, Faith felt the trespasser’s stare, felt his presence as clearly as if he was standing over her bed.

  Her breath came again in gasps as her mind raced frantically. Rolling carefully onto her side, she reached for the bedside phone and drew it under the sheets with her. Then, hidden under the covers, she used the lighted dial to punch out 9-1-1. Whispering, she told the operator that someone was outside her bedroom window.