Bound With Pearls (16 page)

She smothered the urge to remind him that it was
her
who had a new job. Lucy still worked at the firm she had been at. The one Lucy had applied to because Christine worked there.

“So what’s new in my girl’s life?”

She cast around for something to say. Something she hadn’t said to him over the week. There was only one topic they hadn’t discussed. Stirring her stew, she decided to go for it. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Are you now? Are you back with that one fella—?”

“No, it’s someone new, Dad.”

“Really? Well, you’ll have to bring him over sometime.”

She considered that, Daniel here at her father’s house. Despite the high-end people who had been at his loft the previous evening, she didn’t think he would mind the modest life her family led.

“I’ll see when he can do lunch or maybe dinner sometime.” She squirmed a little. She wanted to include him on things like family dinner, but should she? Were they at that point?

* * * * *

Christine gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

“I’m sure she’s just busy,” she parroted her father’s words to the empty vehicle. “I’m sure she just wanted to sleep in.”

Jerking the wheel around, the Jeep hit the curb as she turned into the lot. She parked in one of the visitor spaces in the lower garage and stalked around to the front of the building. Lucy lived with her boyfriend, a detail their father was still in the dark about.

Lucy had never invited her over. The only time she had been to the apartment was when Lucy moved in and needed to borrow the Jeep. It was time Christine let go of any idea she could have a sisterly relationship with Lucy. Maybe what she needed to do was move away. Put distance between them and start all over.

Her heart seized at the thought. She’d gone away to college and returned home of her own will, had even planned to before her mother’s death so she could be near her family. She couldn’t live without her dad close by. And then there was Daniel, and her new job.

She gave herself a little shake. She wouldn’t give up what she enjoyed because she wanted to avoid Lucy. It was past time Christine stood up to her little sister.

Lucy and Nate’s condo was midway up the building, which meant she had to stew in the elevator, pasting on a weak smile for an older gentleman who got in with her. Fortunately, the hallway on their floor was empty, because she was going to make a scene. Being an ungrateful brat to her was one thing, but disappointing their father was unacceptable.

She pounded on the door with her fist, rattling the hinges and the deadbolt. That alone told her Lucy was there.

“I’m coming,” a shrill voice, muted by the door and drywall, yelled.

She stepped to the side, out of the view of the peephole. She wouldn’t put it beyond her sister not to open the door if she knew it was her.

The locks slid out of place and a chain rattled on the other side. Christine pushed the door open and stepped in, crowding a surprised Lucy back into the apartment.

“Where were you?” she snapped.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Lucy ran a hand through her messy blonde hair, frowning.

“Lunch with Dad. Today. Did you seriously forget?” She slammed the door closed, more out of a sense of propriety than privacy. Lucy might not care that she was standing there in a white men’s shirt and nothing else, but she did.

“Oh.” Lucy lifted a shoulder. “I decided I didn’t want to go. It’s so depressing every year, talking about Mom, and Dad’s all sad.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Her nipples protruded like vulgar headlights. “And it’s Valentine’s Day. I’d rather spend it in bed.”

“So why didn’t you answer your phone and at least make up an excuse? Did you know Dad and I sat there and waited for you for an hour to answer your phone or show up or something? He’s worried sick about you. He’s ready to call the cops and report you missing!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I was busy. You don’t need to wait on me to eat. Just eat.”

She unclenched her teeth. Her sister was selfish, but had she always been this vapid? “That’s not the point, Lucy, and you know it. Dad looks forward to this all year. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Ugh. Of course it does, but it doesn’t mean I have to waste my day off. I’m sorry if you can’t get over the fact that Mom’s dead, but I have.” Lucy raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band. “I need to shower. I have plans.”

There were many things she wanted to say to her sister. She wanted to shake her, she was so angry. “Fine.” She held out her hand. “I’ll leave, but I want Mom’s pearls like we agreed.”

Lucy’s eyes widened, panic flitting across her face before she got her expression back under control. “I’m not sure where they are. I’ll look for them and get them to you.”

“No!” Her voice boomed in the small space of the entry. “I’m not leaving here without them, Lucy. What have you done with them?”

As though she were a seriously put-out teenager, Lucy rolled her eyes as she made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat before storming off to the bedroom. “Fine!”

Christine didn’t dare follow her. Left to simmer in the foyer, she clenched her keys hard enough to feel the grooves cutting into her palms.

“Lucy?”

“Hold on a damn minute.”

She cooled it in the hall for another few minutes, afraid to venture farther into the apartment for fear of what she would find. Lucy stomped back to her, the effect ruined by the carpet muting her heavier than necessary steps.

“Here.”

Lucy thrust a clear plastic sandwich bag into her hands. She held it up. Inside, pearls filled one corner of the bag.

For a moment, her heart stopped. Her lungs emptied and her vision blurred, the edges fading to red.

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?” Christine didn’t recognize her voice or the creature inside her skin. She looked at her sister and realized in that moment, despite living together, growing up in the same house, they were strangers.

Lucy thrust her jaw out, hands planted on her hips. “It broke, okay? Just put them on some string and they’re good as new.”

“These were Mom’s.”

“And they were mine. Now they’re yours. Happy?”

“No. No, I’m not happy, Lucy. You never wanted these.” She shook the bag under her nose. “You wouldn’t have cared if I hadn’t asked for them. Why do you do this? Why do you go out of your way to be a bitch?”

Lucy gasped. “Where do you get off calling me a bitch? All I’ve done is try to do something nice for you and you throw it back in my face. You’re just jealous because I’m happy and you’re a bitter, old hag.”

“You’re unbelievable. There’s no convincing you that there’s something more important in the world than you, is there?”

“Bitter isn’t really your color, Chris. I think you should leave.”

“Believe me, I can’t leave fast enough.” She pivoted and grabbed the door before she did something she would regret.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass. You’re a sucky sister, Christine.”

Her vision narrowed, focused on the elevator. Lucy continued to yell at her, going so far as to step out in the hallway in her nearly nude glory. The only nice thing was she didn’t have to wait for the elevator.

Chapter Twelve

Daniel splayed his hands on the counter and glared at his phone. Christine was supposed to have returned to his place after lunch. That was what they’d agreed on over breakfast, but it was already after seven. She wasn’t back, she hadn’t called and neither had she answered her phone. It didn’t feel right. He hadn’t known her long, but this wasn’t her. She wouldn’t just leave him hanging.

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

Picking up the phone, he hit redial and listened in frustration as it rang and rang until the voicemail kicked in. This time he didn’t bother leaving a message. Tossing the offending piece of technology onto the counter, he turned and paced the length of the kitchen. What if something had happened to her? No one would know to call and let him know. But what if she was standing him up? He discarded that idea immediately, both because it didn’t make sense and because he couldn’t entertain the idea of being left without going crazy. Lucy might be a flake, but his Christine was not.

The only thing that made sense was that something had happened to her. An accident or an emergency maybe.

He had snatched up his keys and was at the door before he’d wrapped his mind around the fact he was going to check and see if she was at her apartment. He’d already admitted to himself he enjoyed her company, she was sexy as hell and their lifestyles matched. They clicked, and though they hadn’t talked about it, he was sure they both perceived themselves as being in a relationship. It was his right to be worried.

The drive to her apartment was a blur. He skidded into a parking spot next to her Jeep. Perplexed, he got out of his car and circled it, looking for any sign of damage. There were a few dents, but the vehicle was old and the damage didn’t seem new.

Maybe she had stood him up. Abandoned him. The uncertainty curdled his stomach. Had she fooled him? A few weeks ago he’d met her and decided she was her sister. Had he been wrong to give her a second chance?

Part of him wanted to turn around, get in his car and go home. If she wanted to leave him, that was a two-way street. He didn’t have to be concerned about her if she didn’t care about him. But that was the irrational, age-old voice speaking poison into his mind. He’d ruined enough relationships by blowing his top and never speaking to the other person.

Christine was just up a floor, one on the right. He climbed the stairs, somewhat calmer but no less apprehensive about what he would find. The cheerful welcome mat mocked his sour mood.

The sound of his knuckles hitting the door reverberated through the breezeway. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

The locks slid open slowly, without any of the exuberant joy she had shown when he’d come over before. She pulled the door open, her red-rimmed eyes looking up at him, her brow creased in confusion. He saw the light bulb go on upstairs. Her jaw dropped and her eyes fluttered wide.

“Oh shit.” She buried her face in her hands.

His doubts crumbled. She hadn’t stood him up. This wasn’t her leaving him. It didn’t even have anything to do with him. Something
was
wrong. He breathed a sigh of relief that his worst-case scenario was all fable and at least physically she was unhurt.

He closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm around her waist and guiding her back into the apartment. He closed the door and hugged her tightly, feeling slightly guilty that he’d thought ill of her. What had he been thinking?

“I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m so sorry.” She had a tissue pressed against her eyes and sniffled.

“It’s okay. I was worried about you. Why didn’t you pick up the damn phone? What’s wrong?” Part of him wanted to yell at her for not calling or even texting him. The other half of him wanted her to stop crying right now.

She sniffled and laid her head on his shoulder. “Lucy won’t stop calling and yelling at me. I turned the ringer off and buried it under the couch cushions.”

“Why is Lucy yelling at you?” The urge to shake an answer that made sense out of her was tempting.

She made a sound in the back of her throat, a cross between a growl and a sigh. Pulling out of his embrace, she turned her back on him and walked toward the couch, her arms wrapped around herself.

He grasped at straws for a reason. “Did something happen at lunch?”

She choked out a bitter laugh. “Nothing happened at lunch. Lucy didn’t even bother to show up and I got angry. I had to sit around and listen to Dad talk about how great Lucy is, how she’s so busy at her new job, when
I’m
the one with the new job. He’s so proud of her for having her life together, but me? I get a hug and a ‘Nice to see you’.” She was pacing now, gesticulating with every angry point.

“So I went to her condo because she wouldn’t answer her phone. I wanted to hear why she couldn’t come.” She wheeled around and looked at him, a fresh fall of tears clinging to her lashes. “She hadn’t felt like coming. Dad’s too depressing and we’re morbid for having lunch ever year on a day Dad still thinks of as special. We yelled at each other, and as if that’s not bad enough, she finally gave me Mom’s pearls.” Now the tears returned, big fat drops rolling freely down her cheeks. “They’re broken. It looks like a whole handful was ripped off. Who knows how many she lost? And she didn’t care. She doesn’t care about anyone or anything that’s not Lucy.”

He sat down on the couch. He didn’t know what to say. It was one thing to find Lucy annoying, but it was another to have to live with her.

She stopped her pacing and stared at him. Her face was red and blotchy, the tear tracks glistening against her cheeks and her hair was up in a messy knot on top of her head.

“I’m sorry I forgot and I didn’t call you. I really am. I got upset and wasn’t thinking. It’s not an excuse, I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Chris.” He reached for her hand and tugged her forward until their knees bumped. “I get it, okay? I was worried something had happened to you. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He paused. Though he’d had his rocky spots with his adopted father, they’d never fought like this. He was out of his element. “Do you want me to leave you alone? I will if you want me to. I’d rather you come home with me. Or let me stay here.”

She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. The apartment still smelled faintly of the lemon-scented candles he’d burned last week. He could tell her to come with him, and he was reasonably certain she would go, but he wanted her to choose.

“I’m a mess,” she muttered after a few moments.

“There are these things called showers. I hear they’re great.”

She plucked at her shirt. “You don’t want to put up with me like this.”

He sighed. “Chris, do you want me to leave you alone?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“All right then.” He stood, bumping her body with his. Capturing her face in his hands, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You left your bag at my place. Why don’t you come home with me? Do you need anything else?”

“Yeah. Just give me a second, okay?”

He brushed tears away. “Sure. Do you want me to take a look at the necklace?”

Her jaw dropped a little. “Would you mind?”

“Chris, get the necklace.” He patted her bottom and watched her shuffle to where her purse lay discarded on the table next to the door. She pulled out a plastic bag and brought it to him.

Inside were two sections of the necklace, both laden with sizeable pearls on an aging and rotting string. It looked as if it were a true family heirloom, something that had been passed from mother to daughter for generations. He counted the pieces. Without his tools he couldn’t make a true estimate on what had been lost, but there was enough intact to recreate the necklace on new string.

“When you wore it, where did the necklace hit you?”

Christine gestured to a point just below her collarbone.

“So it was maybe fourteen, sixteen inches long?”

She clasped her hands over her mouth and watched him. “Yeah.”

He ran his fingers over a section of the necklace still on the string. “I’m just looking at these pieces here. It doesn’t look like there is much, if anything missing. Pearl necklaces have knots between each bead to keep from the string breaking and losing all of them. The cord is rotting, so it wouldn’t take much to break it. I can fix this. It’s not ruined.”

“You can fix it?” Her voice was so small and childlike.

“Yeah, you can even watch to make sure I do it right.”

Had he just said that? He could count on one hand the number of people he tolerated in his workroom, and not even half of them could be around while he was working. She brought that number up to two.

“Really?”

He sealed the bag and put it in his pocket. “I can. Let’s get your stuff together.”

“I’ll get it. Give me a few minutes?”

True to her word, she was ready to go in less than five minutes. She didn’t protest when he guided her to his car, or when he pushed her into the bathroom after they arrived.

All of his plans had to be reworked, but that was part of life. Scurrying to set up things he should have had done earlier in the day. Fate was with him because she stayed in the shower for ages. He was almost done cooking by the time a much different Christine emerged.

He had to do a double take when the door opened. Her curls were pulled back and she looked fresh and soft.

“What?” She stopped at the end of the counter and picked at her pale-pink sweater dress.

“Wow.” He stirred the concoction in the wok pan. Seeing her back to normal relieved the tension gripping his shoulders, and just like that, the moment slipped into something comfortable. Something he could see doing again.

“What are you talking about?” Her face was scrunched up. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her.

“You look hot.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Thanks. Need a hand?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Can you grab the butter and bread and pop them in the oven?”

“Sure.”

He watched her from the corner of his eye as she read the label on the packaging. She put her hip against the counter and turned toward him.

“What’s this?” She flashed the frozen bread at him.

“Bread,” he replied, purposefully obtuse.

“Yeah, because I’m sure everyone keeps gluten-free bread in their freezer.” She opened one end and slid out a loaf with tiny ice crystals all over it.

“You said you had a gluten allergy. They make gluten-free bread. I thought it was a win-win.” He was actually rather proud of himself not only for the bread, but also finding a wide selection of other gluten-free products.

She put the bread on a tray and slid it into the oven before wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

They finished cooking together and moved to the sofa where he presented her with three movie selections, all current, mushy romances a girl at the rental kiosk had gushed about at length.

She perched on the couch and eyed them. She didn’t appear excited about the selections as he’d hoped. Instead she stabbed some of the pasta and popped it in her mouth despite it still being hot.

She fanned her mouth. “It’s good.”

“What do you want to watch?” He pushed his food around his plate, not foolish enough to try it yet.

She took her time chewing and swallowing her food and picking at her plate. “We don’t have to watch a movie.”

He was learning to read her. When she lowered her eyes and wouldn’t look at his face, she was hiding something. He weighed his choices. On one hand he wanted to have an enjoyable evening, especially after what she’d been through, but on the other, their relationship required trust.

“Chris, what’s on your mind?”

“What?” She looked at him then, a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights stare. “Nothing.”

“Christine—”

Her fork clanked loudly against the plate. “I’m overthinking things, okay?”

He put his plate on the coffee table and relaxed into the couch, stretching an arm across the back toward her.

“So talk to me.”

“Let’s just watch a movie.”

He watched her pick one of the movies at random and pop off the couch. She put her plate on the coffee table and busied herself inserting in the movie. He grabbed the remote, powered off the player and set it on his knee.

She turned to look at him, her face pinched and confused.

“Talk to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why can’t you be a normal guy? One who doesn’t want to talk?” she groused without feeling. She returned to the couch and sat with her legs curled under her.

He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at the softness. He tucked her curls behind her ear and tugged her closer. “You wouldn’t like me as much.”

“You’re right.” She sighed, resting her hand on his thigh and leaning into him. “I’m being crazy.”

She paused but he didn’t respond.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Again he didn’t reply.

She pulled away and turned to face him. She had her lip pinched between her teeth again. “What are we, Daniel? Are we dating? Friends with benefits? Play partners? I like you. I’m not good at hiding things like that, or playing it cool.” Once the words started pouring from her lips she spoke with more confidence. “I need to know what we are, because it’s not fair to you or me if I get emotionally attached and you don’t.”