92 Pacific Boulevard (18 page)

I
t was the first Tuesday of March and Christie had driven her almost-new car over to Teri’s. She tried to visit every few days, especially now that Teri hardly ever left the house anymore.

Christie carried the teapot into the family room, where Teri sat with her swollen feet propped up. “You look wonderful,” she told her sister. Despite everything—Teri’s obvious discomfort and the inconvenience of enforced bed rest—it was true.

“I feel like a blimp.” Teri rested her hands on her protruding abdomen. “I’ve got three and a half months to go and by the time I’m ready, they’ll have to get a forklift to move me.”

Christie laughed. Triplets! Something like this would only happen to Teri. Triplets—and without fertility drugs, too.

“You’ll probably deliver early.”

“Thank goodness,” Teri said wryly.

“You feel okay, though. Right?” Christie placed the tray with the teapot and two cups on the coffee table and sat on the sofa.

“I feel like Sigourney Weaver in that movie. You know, where she gives birth to an alien. You wouldn’t believe what it’s like to have three little soccer players kicking away at my ribs and—”

“Oh, Teri.”

“Wipe that smirk off your face.”

Christie couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re going to have so much fun with your babies.”

Her sister shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I plan to have fun with them myself. I’m going to love being an aunt.” She knew she’d probably never be a mother, so Teri’s babies would have to be hers, too.

Teri and Bobby were both elated, and Christie had never seen a husband more attentive and caring than Bobby. He’d brought Teri real happiness; she’d told Christie that when she’d imagined she was happy in the past, those feelings didn’t even compare to what she felt now.

For a while, Christie believed she’d found that same kind of happiness with James Wilbur, but as was so often the case, she’d been wrong. He was like every other man she’d ever cared about—only it’d taken him a bit longer to reveal his true nature.

As if her sister had been reading her thoughts, Teri glanced speculatively at Christie. “James—”

“Don’t even start,” Christie warned. Teri seemed convinced that Christie could be as fortunate, as contented, as she was; Christie knew better. She poured the herbal tea, and handed Teri a cup.

Her sister gratefully accepted it. “You can’t ignore James forever.”

“Who says I can’t?” She crossed one leg over the other and swung her foot to hide her nervousness.

Teri’s eyes grew sad. “You love him and you know it. I had no idea you could be so stubborn.”

“Sure you did,” Christie returned, remembering their youth. Her sister was more familiar with her character flaws than anyone. “You want to defend James and that’s your choice, but I’ve made my decision.”

“James loves you!”

“Sure he does. That’s why he walked out on me.”

“He panicked,” Teri said, defending him. “It had nothing to do with you.”

“Uh-huh.” That just proved her point; when he was in trouble, when he’d needed help, it hadn’t occurred to him to confide in her—the woman he supposedly loved.

But Christie didn’t want to argue with her sister. They’d done enough of that through the years. “Would you mind if we didn’t discuss James?” she asked instead.

One look told her how disappointed Teri was.

“Let me tell you about my classes,” Christie said. To her own surprise she liked her courses. The photography was an interesting challenge, and she’d mastered the basics. She’d been working with a camera provided by the school but planned to buy her own. She’d met Jon Bowman, Grace Sherman’s son-in-law, once or twice; maybe he’d be willing to recommend a digital camera. And since she was starting her own business, she knew she needed some accounting skills. To her delight, she’d discovered that she thoroughly enjoyed the classes and had no problem with the homework.

Even as a kid Christie had always had a head for math. She never had difficulty remembering phone numbers after hearing them only once or twice. Her skill with figures was one of the reasons she’d made cashier at Wal-Mart. Balancing her bank account had never been a
problem, either—especially since her balance generally hovered around zero.

“You sent back his Valentine gift.” She paused. “The flowers were gorgeous—I know because he ended up giving them to me.”

Christie forcefully expelled her breath. “Are you back to James again?”

Teri’s gaze pleaded with hers. “Explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

“Why you’re so unforgiving. Why can’t you accept the fact that once the news story broke, James felt he had no option but to run. Surely you can put yourself in his position.”

“No,” she snapped. “I can’t.”

“I don’t believe that,” Teri said. “Poor James, he—”

“He walked out on you and Bobby, and he walked out on me, just like every other man I’ve ever loved.”

“Christie, you’ve got to know James isn’t like anyone else. He’s
James.
His childhood was hell. His parents drove him to mental collapse, to the point that he ended up in a psych ward. Once it was obvious that he couldn’t play chess anymore, they turned their backs on him—their own son! If it wasn’t for Bobby, I don’t know what would’ve happened to him.”

“He doesn’t seem all that grateful to Bobby—or at least that’s how it looks from where I’m sitting,” Christie said. “When Bobby needed him, James left.”

“You mean when
you
needed him, James left.”

“Yes,” she flared. “I thought James was different. I thought I could trust him. What an idiot I was.”

“He came back because of you,” Teri said quietly.

“Too bad. I’m not interested.”

Teri pretended not to hear. “James realized it didn’t
matter what kind of ugly sensationalism that reporter put out there. He decided to stop hiding.”

She paused as though she expected Christie to appreciate how hard it’d been for James to confront his past. Okay, Christie could understand his fears; still, that didn’t justify the way he’d abandoned her.

“Can’t you imagine what it must have been like for him?” Teri asked rhetorically. “He’s stayed in the shadows all these years and then to be thrust into the limelight without his knowledge or consent. It was his worst nightmare. Instinct took over, and he ran. Who’s to say what either of us would’ve done in the same situation? But once his head cleared, he came back, and the first person he asked to see was you.”

Christie’s resolve remained unchanged. “I learned something important about myself through all of this,” she said. “I don’t need a man.” It’d been a liberating insight. After each breakup, she’d instantly gone in search of a new relationship, afraid to be alone. Afraid that on her own she hadn’t been
enough.
All those associations had been with a certain type—drunks, drug addicts, assorted losers. Men she felt she could rescue with sufficient love, sympathy and understanding. Not to mention money…

In the dark, lonely hours after James’s defection, Christie had arrived at some conclusions. First, she
was
good enough—and no man would ever make her feel whole or complete. That had to come from within herself. Second, she had an excessive need to be needed. She recognized that about herself now and wasn’t about to fall back into the same patterns.

While she enjoyed her job, she wanted more. With her photography and business classes, Christie was going to establish a career. Initially, she’d take photographic assignments
on her off-hours, while she still had the protection of a steady paycheck. No matter how long it took, she wasn’t about to let a man, any man, ruin her chances or stand in her way.

“I know you’re feeling hurt,” Teri said, “but I wish you’d give James another chance.”

Unwilling to bend, Christie shook her head.

Once she succeeded in steering the conversation away from James, she enjoyed the visit with her sister. Although Teri was positive and uncomplaining—other than in humorous asides—Christie knew this pregnancy had taken a toll on her. Teri was an active, social person, and she found being confined to the house extremely difficult.

Even though Christie preferred to avoid any possible contact with James, Teri needed her. She promised she’d stop by again in a day or two.

Bobby walked her to the front door, which was unusual. She figured he wanted to tell her something out of earshot of his wife. He glanced furtively at the family room, where Teri was still sitting.

“She’s doing well,” Christie said reassuringly.

“All three are boys,” Bobby announced without preamble.

“You know already?”

Bobby nodded. “I saw the picture. Teri wouldn’t look but I did.”

“Three sons,” Christie repeated, smiling widely.

“Teri wants a girl,” he said with a frown.

“Trust me, my sister won’t be disappointed,” Christie told him.

“She’ll want to get pregnant again—until she has her girl. I’m just not sure she should.”

Christie knew he was concerned about Teri’s health and the physical demands of this pregnancy. But she also knew the power Teri had over him.

“What you mean is that if my sister wants something and you can make it happen, you will. Right?”

Bobby lowered his eyes.

Christie had to struggle not to laugh. He adored Teri so much, he could refuse her nothing. Oh, to have a man who loved her that intensely. Christie hoped Teri knew how lucky she was.

“Trust me,” she said again. “Once these babies are born, the last thing Teri will think about is getting pregnant again.”

Alarm crossed his face. “She’ll still…you know…” The rest of his words fell away as though he assumed she’d grasp his meaning.

Christie did. Only Bobby would ask something like this. “Oh, I imagine she’ll be as warm and loving as always, probably even more so.”

Bobby’s shoulders sagged with relief.

Leaning forward, Christie kissed his cheek, then walked out the front door.

When she got to her car and opened the driver’s side, she gasped. There, on the seat, lay a single, perfectly shaped, long-stemmed red rose.

Anger rushed through her. She snatched up the rose and marched across the driveway to the garage. James used to live in the apartment above; presumably—obviously—he was back. Christie charged up the steps, breathless when she reached the landing.

Pounding on the door with her fist, she suddenly realized what she’d done but didn’t have time to retreat. James was there, standing in the doorway. Seeing her, he smiled, his eyes warm…and loving.

Everything she’d intended to say disappeared. Confronting him had been a mistake. A big one.

The urge to cry nearly overwhelmed her, but thankfully that passed quickly, replaced with a fresh surge of anger. This rose nonsense was a trick he’d played on her before. Every time Teri had sent him to pick her up or drive her home, there’d been a rose on her seat. In the beginning, Christie had thought the flowers were put there by her sister. Not until much later did she learn they were from James.

“Christie?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

She continued to stare at him but suspected she only looked foolish. Hurling the rose at his feet, she whirled around and stormed back down the stairs, practically stumbling in her haste.

James followed at a more sedate pace.

She ran ahead, intent on climbing into her car and speeding away. However, when she went to open the door, she discovered she must have inadvertently locked it. Furious when the door refused to open, she staggered clumsily backward, straight into James’s chest. He caught her by the shoulders.

She broke away from him, shouting, “Don’t touch me!”

“Actually,” he said, as calm as she was annoyed, “I think about touching you quite a bit.”

“Well, don’t.” Shaking the hair out of her face, she fumbled with her car keys and in her frustration dropped them on the pavement.

“Allow me,” James said politely and bent down to retrieve them.

“Don’t
ever
bring me another rose. Understand?”

He handed back her keys. “I do understand. Unfortunately I can’t guarantee that I’ll stop.”

“Well, force yourself.” Turning away from him, she inserted the key in the lock.

“I love you.” His words were gentle. Sincere.

“I don’t care!“

This was not supposed to be happening! Her plan was to react to him with cool indifference; instead, he’d flustered her so badly that she was on the verge of weeping, intelligible speech beyond her. Gulping for air, choking, she couldn’t manage a single word.

To Christie’s horror, tears rained down her cheeks. Then, all at once, the lump in her throat eased and she could breathe again. And speak again.

“I
don’t
love you.” She pronounced each syllable emphatically.

“Liar.“

She was embarrassed that he could so easily see through her facade. “I admit I did love you at one time, but not anymore,” she said.

“I don’t believe that.“

“Believe what you want.” Unwilling to become involved in a useless verbal exchange, she slipped inside her car and slammed the door. Blinded by tears, she started the engine and backed up without looking behind her. If James was stupid enough not to get out of her way, then it was his own fault if she ran over him.

Once she got home, it took her a full hour to stop shaking. She paced and chewed her fingernails, a habit she detested. Then she turned on the television and sat down to watch for about thirty seconds before she was on her feet again.

Sleep was impossible that night.

She was still working the early shift so she could attend her afternoon business class. The sky was dark when she
walked out to the apartment parking lot the next morning. Her breath made small clouds in the chilly air, and she rubbed her bare hands together to chase away the cold.

She opened the car door—and when the interior light flashed on she saw another beautiful, long-stemmed red rose.

Christie closed her eyes in frustration. Then she grabbed the flower, threw it on the ground and stomped all over it.

G
race had been planning this surprise for Olivia for almost two weeks. As soon as she’d mentioned it to Peggy Beldon, Peggy had called Corrie McAfee. Soon Faith was part of the scheme, too. Within a few days Charlotte had spread the word to a number of Olivia’s friends, and Grace had more volunteers than she could use. Olivia was loved by everyone who knew her.

All they needed was a day without drizzle. In the Pacific Northwest the month of March was notoriously—in a word—wet. Friday morning, however, Grace woke to clear skies and sunshine. After weeks of continual misty rain, this was a welcome change.

The television weatherman predicted sunshine for the rest of the day, with cloudy skies and rain to follow overnight. Grace figured a few hours of sunshine was enough to accomplish what she had in mind.

Reaching for the kitchen phone, she was about to punch in Peggy’s number when Cliff wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee. He’d already been in the barn to feed his horses. He never slept past seven; his horses’ schedule didn’t permit it.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Cliff said. He took a gulp of coffee, then set his mug down and slipped up behind her to nuzzle her neck.

“Cliff,” she chastised, laughing. “I have to call Peggy.” She breathed in deeply. He smelled of fresh hay and leather, and the combination struck her as immensely virile. These were the scents she associated with her husband.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” he reminded her as she made her call.

He had a point. “But I wasn’t on the phone then.”

“Good morning, Thyme and Tide,” Peggy said with her usual friendliness. She had a gift for making people feel appreciated, even over the phone.

“Meet me at Olivia’s at eleven,” Grace said, trying to ignore her husband’s roaming hands. “Can you…can you let Corrie know?”

“Sure thing,” Peggy told her. “I’ll meet you at Ace Hardware in an hour.”

“Great.” That was all Grace could manage with Cliff nibbling on her neck. She sighed with relief as she hung up the phone, then twisted around in her husband’s embrace. “You’re asking for trouble, Cliff Harding.”

“Uh-huh.” He kissed her soundly on the lips.

Grace loved his playfulness and responded in full measure.

After a few minutes, Cliff released her but his eyes were still closed. “You make me mighty glad I’m a married man.”

“Good. Now hold that thought until I get home later this afternoon.”

“Will do.”

Grace opened the refrigerator and took out a small container of yogurt. That, together with coffee, would constitute her breakfast.

“What’s up with you and Peggy?” he asked. He got the peanut-butter jar and dropped two slices of wholewheat bread into the toaster.

“It’s for Olivia, remember?”

When he seemed uncertain, she explained. “A few of us are getting together and planting flowers in Olivia’s yard. It’s sort of a get-well-soon bouquet on a larger scale.“

“Yeah, I remember now. But isn’t it a bit early to be planting flowers?” he asked.

“Some varieties do well in this weather, and when April comes they’ll be in full bloom.”

His toast popped up and Cliff set both pieces on the counter, slathering them with a thick coating of peanut butter.

Grace opened the cupboard and pointedly handed him a plate.

He accepted it with a lopsided grin. “If you insist.“

“I do.”

Leaning against the counter, Cliff took a bite of his breakfast while Grace retrieved a spoon from the cutlery drawer and sat at the table. Years ago, she’d read a diet book that said never to eat standing up. She’d followed that advice ever since.

“Back to Olivia,” Cliff continued. “She’s getting through this cancer ordeal, isn’t she?“

“I think so, but it’s really too soon to tell. I thought this would lift her spirits. She’s gone through a rough patch, and I figured she could use a bit of cheering up.” According to Jack, the second and third sessions of chemo had been harder on her than the first.

“Peggy and Corrie wanted to help,” Grace went on, “and then Faith joined in. Charlotte’s going to bring us all lunch.”

Cliff pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. “You’re a good friend, Grace.”

Grace dismissed his praise with a shake of her head. “Olivia’s my best friend. This is the very least I can do for her.”

“I’d be happy to help, too,” Cliff offered.

She smiled gratefully at his willingness to pitch in. “Thanks, honey, but I think we have it covered.”

“Okay, but let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“I will,” she promised, finishing her yogurt. She deposited the container in the garbage and started to leave when Cliff stopped her.

“I don’t suppose you let Jack in on this plan of yours?” he asked.

“Oh.” Actually, she hadn’t.

He grinned. “Go on. I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Thanks.”

By nine-thirty, Grace and her accomplices met at the local Ace Hardware next to the craft store. Peggy arrived in her pickup, with Corrie sitting in the front seat beside her. Faith had come in her own vehicle and Charlotte was waiting in the parking lot, along with Ben.

When Grace parked next to her friend’s truck, Peggy climbed down and hugged her. “Bob built four flower boxes for Olivia’s front porch.”

“What a sweetheart,” Grace said delightedly.

“Roy wanted to contribute, too,” Corrie said. “So he painted them. They’re white, and they really look nice—I know Olivia’s going to be pleased.”

“Wonderful!”

“Charlotte has so much food in the backseat, she could feed an entire navy fleet,” Ben told her.

“How can you say that, Ben Rhodes?” Charlotte muttered.
“I just hope I brought enough. After all that physical labor, these girls are going to be hungry.”

Walking into the store, they each grabbed a cart. After they’d chosen their supplies and selected a variety of seedlings, they loaded everything into Peggy’s truck. Then they set off en masse.

The caravan got to Olivia’s home on Lighthouse Road just before ten-thirty. Jack met them on the front porch. “Hi, everyone!”

“I take it Cliff got hold of you?” Grace asked, hurrying up the walkway to meet him.

“This is a terrific idea.”

“Does Olivia know?”

“Not yet,” Jack said. “I thought I’d let you tell her.”

Grace ran up the porch steps. “How’s she doing today?”

Jack hesitated. “She had a rough night.”

Grace suspected Olivia had gone through a lot of those recently. When they’d spoken on the phone yesterday, Olivia had sounded tired. The last chemo had weakened her, left her exhausted.

“Anything I can do?” Grace asked.

Jack’s gaze held hers. “I think you’re already doing it.”

Grace walked past Jack and into the house. “Olivia,” she called out, her voice echoing through the living room. “Where are you?”

“Back here.” She heard Olivia’s thin, weak voice from down the hallway.

Grace found her in the back bedroom, where Olivia had set up a sewing machine. She’d decided to make a quilt for her oldest granddaughter; she’d been working on it for weeks, doing a little each day until she was too tired to continue. The project had given her purpose and helped take her mind off what she was enduring.

She sat at the sewing machine, pale and slumped. Grace struggled to hide her reaction. Olivia’s bald head glistened in the light and around her shoulders she wore a prayer shawl knit by one of the ladies from church.

“Did you tell me you were coming by?” Olivia asked in puzzlement, as if she must have forgotten. “For heaven’s sake, why are you dressed like that?” She gestured at Grace’s torn jeans and faded Mariners sweatshirt.

“Come outside and see for yourself.”

“See what?”

“I’d rather show than tell,” Grace persisted.

Olivia got slowly to her feet, correcting her balance as she did, then trailed Grace into the front room. The door was wide open.

“What’s going on out here?” Olivia asked.

“Come and see.” Grace ushered her out. On the front lawn, pitchforks and shovels in hand, stood Peggy, Corrie and Faith. They’d emptied the truck bed; boxes of annuals and perennials lay spread about the lawn.

“What’s everyone doing with all those flowers?” Olivia asked.

“You mean you can’t guess?”

Olivia looked at Grace for an explanation. “No.”

“We’re here to spruce up your yard and bring a bit of spring,” Grace said.

Olivia blinked rapidly, but couldn’t fend off the tears that filled her eyes.

“Coming through!” Jack said, carrying a huge box from the trunk of Charlotte and Ben’s car, Ben on his heels with an equally large carton. Both were packed with containers and covered bowls.

“Your mother provided lunch.”

Olivia seemed to have trouble speaking. “Oh…oh, my goodness,” she finally murmured. “Whose idea was this?“

“Who do you think?” Jack said, joining them on the porch. He slid one arm around Olivia’s thin shoulders and drew her close.

“Grace. Oh, Grace.” Olivia reached for her hand and squeezed tightly.

“Now, go back inside where it’s warm,” Grace said urgently. “We’ve got things to do out here. We’ll call you when we’re done so you can inspect our work.”

Olivia dashed away tears and nodded.

As soon as she was safely back in the house, Grace and company began their task. With everyone pitching in, it took only an hour to get the flower beds weeded and planted.

Peggy, an experienced gardener, turned the soil and added mulch before Corrie inserted the tender plants into the rich-looking earth.

With Jack’s assistance, Grace and Faith set the flower boxes on the ledge around the front porch and arranged ivy and pansies in each.

Charlotte and Ben were inside, getting everything ready for lunch.

Just as they broke off before going in to eat, Sheriff Davis’s patrol car turned the corner and stopped directly across the street. He got out, strolling toward them. “I received word of a disturbance on Lighthouse Road,” he said in mock-serious tones.

Everyone laughed, but although he’d addressed the whole group, his eyes sought out Faith. Grace glanced over at her companion, whose face was flushed with what Grace assumed was pleasure.

The last she’d heard, they’d ended their relationship.
Judging by Faith’s heightened color and the intense look in Troy’s eyes, there’d been some kind of reconciliation. However, neither seemed prepared to speak.

Grace thought it was time to intervene. “Hello, Sheriff,” she said, pulling off her gloves. “What can we do for you?”

“I came by to see if there was any way I could help. I, uh, heard about what you’re doing and I’d like to be part of it.”

“We’ve got everything under control, but thanks for the offer.”

“We were about to stop for lunch,” Jack said. “Care to join us?”

Troy hung back. “Are you sure there’s enough?” he asked uncertainly.

“Charlotte did the cooking,” Jack told him. “So, trust me, there’s
more
than enough.”

“In that case, thanks. I’d like to.”

“Good,” Grace said with genuine happiness—a feeling visibly shared by Faith. She wondered what had happened to change things between those two.

They took turns washing up. By the time they were all finished, Charlotte invited them into the dining room to eat. Grace smiled at her yellow apron with its sunflowershaped bib.

“We’re serving buffet style,” she announced, waving her arms expansively.

“I can’t believe you’d do this,” Olivia said, standing next to her mother. “All of you.”

“We wanted you to know how much we care,” Peggy said, plate in hand as she circled the table. “Wow, look at this fabulous food.” There were three different kinds of salads, deviled eggs and freshly baked bread with ham,
turkey and cheese slices for sandwiches. Charlotte had also included canned goods from her garden—sweet pickles, dill pickles, pickled beets, plus jams, jellies, peaches and pears.

“Oh, my goodness, I nearly forgot,” Grace said. She hurried to the door. “I left something in the car. Be right back.”

Grace returned two minutes later, carrying a pie box. “Goldie sent this over from the Pancake Palace.”

Olivia’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Coconut cream?”

“What else?”

They served themselves and sat in a circle around the room, balancing their plates on their laps.

“I feel like the luckiest woman alive,” Olivia said, once more sounding close to tears.

“We love you and want to see you well again,” Corrie told her.

“And back in the courthouse where you belong,” Sheriff Davis added.

He’d taken the chair beside Faith’s.

Grace was startled by a sudden knock at the door; before Jack could get up to open it, in walked Cliff, Bob Beldon and Roy McAfee.

“I hoped we’d timed it so we’d be here for lunch,” Cliff said.

“Help yourselves, boys,” Charlotte said. She stood and got them each a plate and a napkin, while Jack and Ben brought out three chairs from the kitchen. The new arrivals filled their plates and joined the circle.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank everyone,” Olivia said.

“We don’t need any thanks,” Grace told her. “We
wanted
to do this. In fact, it’s been in the planning stages for weeks—I actually had to turn people down. So many of your friends wanted to contribute. You are loved, Olivia, and this is just our attempt to let you know that.”

“Well, I’d say you’ve done a more than adequate job…”

Olivia looked around the room, her gaze resting on each one in turn. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled tremulously at Grace. “I’ll have a piece of that coconut cream pie now.”