more than his words, told her how heavily this had weighed on his mind.
Before she could attempt to reassure him, Bobby kissed the side of her neck, sending shivers down her arms. “I like you more than chess,” he whispered. His fingers slipped inside the opening of her blouse. “Am I communicating well?”
“Yes,” she whispered when his hand cupped her breast. “Very well.”
“Is there anything else you want to discuss?” Bobby asked after a long pause.
“What are we going to do about this Russian?” she asked, pushing his hands away so she could concentrate.
Bobby didn’t reply immediately; he seemed to be assessing his options.
“They’re Mafia?” she asked. “Russian Mafia?”
Bobby shrugged and when he spoke he avoided her question. “Vladimir’s a good player, one of the best, but I’m better.”
In many ways her husband was a humble man, but when it came to chess, he had complete and total faith in his abilities. That unshakable confidence in himself was what she’d found so appealing.
“Vladimir wants you to lose to him,” Teri speculated.
Bobby nodded.
“You told him you wouldn’t, right?”
At first he didn’t respond. Eventually, reluctantly, he explained. “Vladimir implied that if I didn’t lose to him, something would happen to you.”
The fiery burst of anger that shot through her was overwhelming. Teri blurted out a few words that apparently shocked Bobby. “I won’t let you lose to him,” she insisted furiously.
Bobby’s eyes revealed a tortured look. “The thing is, I can’t lose. I don’t know how to lose. All I know is how to win.”
“That’s why you’ve given up tournament play, isn’t it?”
His eyes met hers, and he answered with a slight incline of his head. “Vladimir will get what he wants. The longer I resist, the lower my ranking will go. Soon he’ll be ahead of me.”
While Teri understood his reasoning, she also realized it would never happen. The press was demanding a match between the two men and if he refused, Bobby would look like a coward, a loser. Although he hadn’t said so, her husband knew it, too.
Eleven
“Olivia! It’s a girl,” Grace Harding all but shouted through her cell phone.
“Kelly had the baby?” Olivia sounded groggy, as though she’d been asleep. If so, she was awake fast enough, and seemed as excited as Grace herself. This was one of the great things about having a best friend like Olivia. You could call her at any hour of the day or night. You could share bad news or good, and she’d always know what to say.
“I woke you up. I’m sorry.” A quick glance at her watch showed that it was eleven o’clock. Tears of joy made wet tracks down her cheeks. “Kelly phoned at nine to tell me she was in labor. I got here just in time to welcome little Emma Grace into the world.”
“Emma Grace,” Olivia repeated slowly. “What a lovely name.”
“She’s gorgeous.” Grace couldn’t stop talking. “She’s got the biggest, bluest eyes and—”
“Meet me at the Pancake Palace,” Olivia broke in with a laugh. “We should celebrate.”
It wasn’t champagne Goldie would be pouring—more like decaf coffee. She’d probably bring them each a slice of coconut cream pie, as well.
For years Olivia and Grace had attended a Wednesday-night aerobics class, followed by coconut pie and coffee. This was tradition. The pie and coffee were their reward for stretching and sweating and leaping up and down. More importantly, Wednesday night was their time to catch up.
Even though they’d seen each other just the night before, it seemed right to share this moment with Olivia, who’d been a constant in her life since grade school.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” Grace told her. She felt too keyed up to drive home and try to sleep, anyway. It wasn’t every day a woman had a brand-new granddaughter.
The next call she made was to Cliff; she remembered that he was in the barn, so she left a message. Then she phoned Maryellen, who of course already knew, and finally she drove from the birthing center in Silverdale back to Cedar Cove.
Grace’s heart soared as she rounded the curving road that edged the Cove. The lights of her hometown welcomed her, and she smiled as she drove past the library and down Harbor Street to the Pancake Palace. This had been their hangout, hers and Olivia’s, ever since high school.
Funny, those afternoons didn’t seem that long ago…. They were both grandmothers now, but inside they remained the high-school girls they’d been back then, confiding secrets and gossiping about their friends.
The Pancake Palace had changed little in all those years. The menu was still the same; only the prices had increased. The booths had been reupholstered a number of times, but they were the same red vinyl as they’d been in the days of their youth.
Olivia’s car was in the parking lot and Grace could see her through the restaurant window. She was in their booth, the very booth where Grace had whispered her dreaded secret when they were high-school seniors. Olivia was the only person who knew Grace was pregnant when they graduated. Grace hadn’t found the courage to tell her parents until Dan had said he’d marry her. Then and only then had they broken the news to her family.
“You look far too young to be a grandmother,” Olivia said when Grace slid into the upholstered seat across from her.
“Five times over.” She had four of her own and was a stepgrandmother to Cliff’s granddaughter, April. And yet it wasn’t so long ago that she’d despaired of ever becoming a grandmother at all. That was when Maryellen was divorced and seemed to have no intention of marrying a second time. Kelly had wanted children but couldn’t conceive.
Now both her daughters were mothers, each with a boy and a girl—a wealth of happiness that overwhelmed Grace whenever she thought about it.
“Tell me everything about Emma Grace,” Olivia said.
“She’s a beautiful baby,” Grace began, “with lots of blond hair, those blue eyes and a scrunched-up red face.” She smiled at the memory of holding Emma. “She’s got a powerful pair of lungs, too.”
Goldie, their favorite waitress, approached the table, carrying a pot of coffee in one hand and two pieces of coconut cream pie in the other.
“Didn’t I see you here yesterday?” she asked as she set down the plates. “And it’s later than your usual nine-fifteen.”
“I’m a grandma again,” Grace announced proudly.
“Congratulations!” Goldie poured their coffee. “The pie’s on the house, girls.” She hurried off to see to another customer, one of the few so late at night.
“How’s
