Debbie Macomber - 8 Sandpiper Way

Teri might be used to such exalted treatment, but Christie didn’t like it. Besides, James showing up at her apartment complex in that fancy car caused too much speculation among her neighbors. It embarrassed her.

James made her feel self-conscious, opening the door for her, helping her in and out of the limousine. She didn’t need assistance to get into a car or out of one, either. That was so ridiculous it was laughable.

And yet, she had to admit his intentions were good. There was a kindness about him … Christie closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to think of him in pain. He’d been hurt recently, beaten by a couple of thugs who’d attempted to kidnap her sister, only they got her friend Rachel Pendergast instead. And they got James.

It all had to do with a chess tournament and a rival player who’d wanted Bobby to throw the match. He hadn’t; he’d won through some complicated maneuver and in the end the other player had been arrested.

Christie hadn’t expected to like Bobby Polgar. And she hadn’t gotten along with her sister for years. They’d simply avoided each other. It was just better that way.

Then all of a sudden they were back to being friends. being sisters. Christie wasn’t sure who’d done the maturing—probably both of them. And she suspected Bobby’s influence had made Teri more confident, more tolerant and forgiving. Bobby had been a good friend to James, too—not that she knew much about their history.

She reached for her beer and sipped it, wishing she could stop thinking about James. He lingered in her mind and she couldn’t make him disappear, which flustered her. She’d demanded he leave her alone, and he had, which flustered her even more. No one had ever done what she’d asked before.

When she learned he was hurt, she’d hurried to him, but James no longer wanted anything to do with her. He’d made it plain that he didn’t want her company. Christie got the message. She left him a rose, the way he’d left her one, and slipped out of his living quarters, feeling lower than dirt.

“You need another beer?” Larry asked, filling a couple of glasses from the tap.

Christie shook her head. “No, thanks.” She quickly changed her mind. “On second thought, maybe I will.”

Larry nodded approvingly, then leaned against the bar and whispered, “You feeling down about something?”

She shrugged. “You could say that.”

Larry set a glass of cold beer on the counter. “If you want to talk about it, just say the word.”

Christie shook her head again. Her feelings for James confused her; she wouldn’t know what to tell Larry or anyone else. The person she needed to talk to was her sister. Maybe Teri would help her understand what was happening.

“Hey, look!” Kyle, a plumber and a regular at The Pink Poodle, called out. “That limousine’s parked here again.”

Christie instantly felt heat invade her face. James was parked outside, waiting for her.

A couple of men walked over to stare out the window.

“What’s a limousine doing here?” Bill asked. He worked at the shipyard and was another regular. Both men were divorced and preferred spending time at the Poodle to sitting alone in front of the TV. Christie understood that desire for a social outlet; it was one of the reasons she was a regular herself.

“I saw that car before,” Kyle commented.

“Who in here would ever need a fancy vehicle like that?” Bill asked, turning to look at Larry.

“We never found out.” Larry headed to the beer taps with two clean glasses. “The car just seems to show up now and then. No big deal.”

“Are you going to let him use your parking lot like that?” Christie asked, fearing the other regulars might connect her with the limousine. She’d never hear the end of it if they did.

“Sure, why not?” Kyle was the one who responded. “It brings a bit of class to the place, don’t you think?” He directed the question to the bartender.

Larry was too busy filling glasses to respond.

Christie finished her second beer. She usually drank three, but after two she’d begun to feel light-headed. A third, which normally didn’t faze her, might be too much. Time to call it quits. Besides, she was tired.

“You goin’ home?” Larry asked when she paid her bill.

“Yeah.”

“You need me to call you a cab?”

“No. I’m fine, thanks.”

“See ya,” he said.

Christie waved goodbye, pulled on her short wool jacket, then wrapped the scarf around her neck and set out to brave the elements. The wind had begun to rise, picking up the last few scattered leaves and sending them hither and yon. Christie noticed that the smell of snow hung in the air and while the schoolkids would love a snowfall, she could do without it.

Outside The Pink Poodle, she heaved a sigh of relief that James had apparently given up and left. He’d come here to talk to her. When she didn’t immediately appear, he’d gotten the message that she wasn’t interested, and that was okay with her. Moreover, she didn’t want anyone seeing the two of them together.

In spite of all that, she felt disappointed. She was still worried about him and hoped his condition had improved. But ever since the kidnapping he’d acted as if he didn’t want her around. Fine. She, too, could take a hint.

A hundred thoughts swirled frantically, like the autumn leaves at her feet, as she struggled against the wind and around to the side of the building, where she’d parked her car.

“Christie.”

She’d recognize his voice anywhere. Peering into the darkness, she saw him. The limousine stood beside her dilapidated Ford and James was waiting for her there, out of sight of those inside the tavern.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a none-too-friendly voice. Her lack of welcome was part shock, part feigned anger.

“I came to check on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she protested. “Did Teri and Bobby send you?” That would be just like her sister.

“No.”

“I don’t believe it.” Christie knew that Teri and Bobby wouldn’t have missed her yesterday; they’d invited plenty of friends to their Thanksgiving dinner party. Having to be at work so early this morning was a convenient excuse. Not that she’d given anyone the opportunity to question her about it. She’d stayed home all day and hadn’t answered her phone, although it must have rung a dozen times.

“You didn’t come to dinner.”

“So? I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs.” She kept the derision in her voice so he wouldn’t think she cared about his opinion of her. An opinion he would no doubt divulge any second now.

There it was. “You were rude to let your sister down.”

“So now I’m rude,” she muttered. “And you’re an expert on polite behavior?” Actually, he was, and he rightly ignored her question.

“Miss Teri held off serving dinner while she tried to reach you,” he said.

Christie felt bad about that, although she wouldn’t let James know. “What’s it got to do with you?” she asked flippantly.

“You aren’t usually a rude person, Christie.”

“Apparently I proved you wrong.”

“You stayed away because of me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she responded, although of course he was right. She’d skipped Teri’s Thanksgiving event for fear of another rejection from James. Instead of feasting on a turkey dinner at her sister’s, she’d eaten a microwave pizza and watched reruns of Seinfeld for three hours straight.

“Is that why you’re here? To criticize me? If so, message received. Can I go now?” she asked as though she’d grown bored with the conversation. Her ears were getting cold, even if her heart was pounding unmercifully fast.