I look like the sympathetic sort?” she asked, making a joke of it. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” She forced a laugh and with it came a loud hiccup, which mortified her.
“You’ve been drinking?”
“No.” She did an exaggerated double-take. “You think I sat in The Pink Poodle and drank?“
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Absolutely not.” She’d had two beers over the course of as many hours. She was perfectly capable of driving herself home.
“Christie …”
“I said no.” She wasn’t going to put up with any more of his disapproval. “Just leave me alone. You don’t want to see me and that’s fine, because I don’t want to see you, either. Do I need to make it any clearer than that?”
He turned away, then seemed to change his mind. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, wrenching open her car door, which to her intense embarrassment made a loud groaning noise. She should’ve taken it to the repair shop, but hadn’t—because of the inconvenience and, more than that, the bill. A squeaking door was the least of her problems with this vehicle. It was on its last legs—or tires.
Rather than stand in the cold arguing with James, Christie climbed inside her car and started the engine. Thankfully it didn’t die right then and there, as she’d half expected. That would’ve made her humiliation complete.
Without looking behind her, she backed out of the parking place and pulled into the street.
One glance in her rearview mirror told her that James had pulled in directly behind her. He followed her all the way to the apartment complex and waited there until she’d parked. Even then he didn’t leave.
Christie was tempted to march over and demand he stop following her. Otherwise, she’d threaten to call the authorities and get a restraining order. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d filed one against a man.
But she decided not to let on that she’d noticed him. She hurried into her apartment and slammed the door, breathing hard. Several minutes passed before she regained her composure. The first thing she saw in the dark room was the light blinking on her answering machine.
Five calls, all of them from Teri. Her sister was determined to leave messages until she phoned back. Still, Christie resisted. Teri was bound to lecture her for not coming to Thanksgiving dinner.
After ten minutes she couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed the phone. Teri answered after two rings.
“Okay, go ahead and be mad,” Christie greeted her sister. “Yell at me and get it over with.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Teri asked.
“Because I didn’t show up yesterday.”
Teri sighed. “And we both know the reason for that.”
“I had to be to work at six this morning.”
“Bzzz.” Teri imitated an annoying buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. You didn’t show up because you were afraid to face James.”
No use trying to fool her sister.
“He came looking for me tonight,” Christie confessed.
“I know. How’d it go?”
Christie closed her eyes, debating how much to tell her. “Not good.”
“What happened?”
She settled for the plain, unvarnished truth; Teri was going to find out, anyway. “He … tried to apologize but … I wouldn’t let him.”
“Christie,” her sister said, “I thought you liked James.”
Like was such a mild word for the way she felt about him. “I do,” she whispered, wondering why she went to such lengths to prove the opposite.
“Then why did you—Oh, never mind, I know why. I did the same thing with Bobby. When he first showed interest in me, I did everything I could to chase him off. I thank God every day that he didn’t listen. What’s wrong with us, little sister, that we don’t recognize love when it comes knocking at our door?”
“James doesn’t love me—”
“Stop right this minute,” Teri said. “He cares about you—a lot.”
“If that’s the case, then why did he send me away when he was hurt?” she cried, unable to disguise her pain. “I wanted to be with him.”
“He was embarrassed, Christie. Surely you can understand. He didn’t want you to see him in that condition. He’d been beaten up! Give him a chance, will you?”
Christie was afraid to. She’d experienced so many disappointments—and this one would be the worst. “It won’t work.”
“You don’t know that,” Teri argued. “Look at Bobby and me. Who’d ever think the two of us would fall in love?”
“Listen, it might’ve worked out for you and Bobby, but that doesn’t mean it will for me. Let me deal with this my own way, all right?”
Something in her voice must have alerted her sister to the fact that Christie was serious. “All right,” Teri agreed with obvious reluctance, “if you’re sure …”
“I am,” Christie said firmly. “Promise me you’ll stay out of it.”
Teri sighed. “Okay then, if that’s how you want it.”
But Christie didn’t. Not really.
Six
“What’s for dinner?” Roy McAfee asked. His stomach growling, he glanced up from the Saturday edition of the Cedar Cove Chronicle and waited for his wife’s answer. It seemed to him that Corrie had been in the kitchen longer than usual.
“Leftovers.”
Again? Corrie was an excellent cook but it was the same every Thanksgiving. She chose the largest fresh turkey the store had available and then they ate bird for weeks on end. Really, how much turkey could four people consume? And how many versions of turkey did one man have to eat? Not that Roy was complaining—not really. He’d enjoyed Thanksgiving, and having two of his three children with Corrie and him was special enough.
“I’m making turkey pot pie,” she called from the kitchen. “It’ll be out of the oven in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Mack will be joining us for dinner.”
“Good.” Lately Roy and his son had come to an understanding. He’d had high expectations of his only son. Then, as a teenager, Mack had rebelled and they’d been at odds ever since. All those years Roy was furious that Mack had refused to take
