92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [40]
“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.