Hoisting her purse up on her shoulder, she made her way to the front door and knocked.
No one answered.
She feared Dad might be losing his hearing. He often missed calls or people knocking on the door. She didn’t know how to handle this bump in the road, but she’d see it through. At least she had a spare key. Digging it out, she let herself into the house and shed her jacket in the entry.
“Dad? Dad, I’m home.”
She followed her nose to the kitchen in the back of the house. Her father stood over the stove stirring a pot. From the smell, it was Mom’s stew recipe. The one she made whenever they had something to celebrate. The surge of emotion and the urge to cry didn’t surprise her. It was always that way when she came home.
“Hey, Dad.”
Her father turned, still holding the wooden spoon in his hand. “Chris, I didn’t hear you come in.” He smiled, the creases in his face deepening. In the genetic lottery, Christine had received most of her features from her father’s side of the family, though it was a mystery where the red hair came from. She had his height and build and Mom’s eyes and nose.
He spread his arms and she walked into them. He’d always been a big man, but age had stooped his shoulders and he’d lost weight. Losing Mom had taken something intangible out of him. She wanted to squeeze him just to make sure he was still with her sometimes.
He let her go and gave her a head-to-toe once-over. “You’re looking healthy as ever.”
She shook her head and chuckled. “Thanks, Dad.” I think?
He turned back to the stove and continued stirring the stew. “I haven’t heard from Lucy yet, but I reckon she’ll be here soon.”
She kept her smile tightly screwed in place. “Yeah, I bet.”
“Would you mind taking a look at that computer you girls bought me? It keeps asking for me to do something.” He covered the pot and set the spoon down.
“Sure.”
“Oh, I’ve got something for you girls.” His face lit up. “Come here.”
She followed him into the living room. Two red bags sat on the coffee table, cluttered with newspapers. He grabbed one and shoved it into her hands.
“What’s this?” She peeked inside.
“Your Valentine’s Day present. Open it.”
“Dad, you didn’t have to do this.” But she still smiled, memories of Christmases and birthdays past scrolling through her mind. Dad had always tried his hardest to give them each a present he picked out. Sometimes they were spot on and others, like an encyclopedia set, made her wonder what he was thinking. Reaching in, she grabbed something wrapped in plastic and pulled out a boutique lotion set. “Oh Dad, thank you.”
She gave him another hug. He’d always loved his daughters, maybe too much because they could do no wrong.
“How about that computer, huh?” She stepped back, clutching her gift to her chest.
“I’ll be in the kitchen.”
She went to the front of the house, where the office had a nice view of the street. The computer she’d bought him for Christmas last year sat on a corner of the cluttered desk. Lucy hadn’t been able to buy presents that year. So Christine had put both of their names on the computer. Of course then Lucy had gone off to Colorado for New Year’s and asked Christine to take her to the airport. Maybe it was time she stopped accepting her sister’s behavior. They were both adults now and Lucy needed to take responsibility for her actions.
Christine would still put Lucy’s name on presents to their father though.
It took a half-hour of fiddling around to get his virus protection up to date and the updates finished. She kept an eye on the street and her phone for some sign of Lucy, but there wasn’t even a ghost of her.
She finally bit the bullet and dialed Lucy, but the call went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Luce, Dad and I are wondering where you are. Call me back and let us know when you’re getting here.”
She chewed her lip and stared out of the window. Truth be told, she had a bad feeling about this. Lucy ignoring her calls wasn’t new, but today was tradition. And their dad looked forward to the few times the three of them got together.
Swallowing down her trepidation, she went back to the kitchen and helped set the table and make coffee. Her father didn’t ask about Lucy, but his periodic glancing at the door said more than words. He didn’t press them to spend time with him or call all the time. He respected their lives, and every few days when she called him, his joy in hearing her voice was genuine.
She sat down in her usual chair to his left. Lucy’s place sat empty across from her and where their mother would have sat, a small bouquet of tulips stood in remembrance. She couldn’t look at the flowers. Her mother had been gone years and she could still cry like a baby.
“Do you think Lucy got lost?” he asked as he carried the stew to the table.
Her stomach rumbled from how good the food smelled. “I don’t know. Let me give her a call.”
She dialed Lucy again and bit her lip as the call connected.
Her phone rang.
And rang.
And Lucy still didn’t answer. She tried her again, praying the phone was maybe in the bottom of her purse and she hadn’t gotten to it in time. But after three tries, she couldn’t see the point of a fourth.
“Sorry, Dad, she’s not answering.” She bit her lip to keep the scathing comments in. Lucy was Daddy’s little angel.
“Well, I’m sure she’s busy with that new job. Why don’t we go ahead and dig in?” He ladled some of the stew into his bowl before passing it to her.
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.”
Bound With Pearls Page 15