92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [12]
“Don’t forget I brought you my orange Bundt cake.”
“I couldn’t possibly forget.” Although Jack would appreciate eating it more than Olivia. “You’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you?”
Her mother didn’t deny it. “I’ll cook you a batch of my special lasagna next.”
“Mom,” Olivia said laughingly, “I won’t fit into any of my clothes if this continues.” Although she was far from having to worry about that. Her suits hung on her because she’d lost weight before Christmas, fighting off a serious infection. However, Olivia wanted her mother to know that while she valued everything Charlotte did for her, she was well on the road to recovery.
“Let me spoil you a bit longer,” her mother said. “Please, honey?”
Olivia gave in with a smile. “All right, Mom.”
Charlotte put on her coat and scooped up her purse and the empty basket. “I’m off to see Bess.” One of her many friends. “You’ll call if you need anything?” she asked. “Promise?”
“Of course,” Olivia assured her.
Her mother grasped the doorknob. “And don’t let Jack eat that cake all by himself, you hear?”
Olivia laughed again. “I’ll do my best, Mom.”
With a saucy wave, her mother was out the door. Olivia just hoped that when she hit eighty, she’d have as much energy, optimism and charm as her wonderful mother.
Chapter Four
There was someone pounding on Christie Levitt’s front door as she stood over the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth. She rinsed her mouth and methodically set her toothbrush in the holder, then splashed cold water on her face. She had no idea who’d be at her door this early in the day.
“Hold your horses,” she shouted and winced. Her head throbbed with what threatened to become a blinding headache.
Whoever was at the door was certainly persistent. On her way through the hallway to her bedroom, she did a quick mental review of the bills she’d paid. Yes, she specifically remembered that she’d mailed off checks to the electric and water companies.
Both utilities had been shut off before and in her opinion the companies were rather sneaky about it. No one had come to the door, at least not that she recalled.
Grabbing a housecoat, she slid her arms into the sleeves and belted the waist, doing her best to ignore the throbbing in her head.
“Who is it?” she demanded as she unbolted the lock. Her head ached, her eyes stung. What she really needed was a cup of strong, hot coffee. The stronger the better, and it couldn’t come any too soon. Waking with a mouth so dry it felt as though it was stuffed with cotton, she’d brushed her teeth first. Coffee was going to be her next step.
The moment she opened the apartment door, her sister pushed past her.
Christie groaned. She’d tried to avoid Teri. Her sister’s persistent phone calls had gone unanswered. Christie had torn up the note Teri had slipped under her door without bothering to read it. No need; she knew what it said. She should’ve realized that Teri didn’t know how to take a hint.
“What do you want?” Christie winced again at the pain that felt like a spear going through her head.
Teri, five months pregnant with triplets, glared at her indignantly. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” Christie walked into the kitchen and reached for the coffeepot. “Don’t mince words or anything.”
“I never have and I’m not about to start now.” Teri followed her into the room, and without waiting for an invitation pulled out a chair and sat down. “Put some water on for tea if you would,” she said. Her hands automatically went to rest on her protruding belly, and she raised her feet to the seat of the opposite chair, as if she intended to stay a while.
Great. Just great. Not only did Christie have a headache to contend with, she was stuck with Teri, too. In a minor act of rebellion, she started the coffee before filling a cup with water and slamming it into the microwave. She hit the timer button savagely.
“What are you doing here?” she ventured to ask, although she could easily guess. This visit had to do with James Wilbur, Teri and Bobby’s former chauffeur. Even mentally