Even a week later, Christy’s mind kept going back to the scene on the television. She was determined to put it behind her and believe Ben’s death to be a suicide, just as the papers were now stating it had been ruled. Surely if she could put it behind her, everything would work out and Grant wouldn’t cause her any more trouble.
Moving amid the boxes of newly delivered nursery furnishings, Christy grimaced at the idea of trying to put everything together on her own. She smiled when a thought to call Curt came to mind. Curt would just love it if I gave him this responsibility, she thought.
Before she could reconsider and stop herself, Christy picked up the phone and dialed the number she hadn’t even realized she’d memorized. After three rings, Christy was just about to hang up when a breathless-sounding Curt finally answered.
“You running a marathon?” Christy questioned lightly.
“Christy? Is that you?” Curt couldn’t contain his surprise.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said, sounding rather grim.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes,” Christy replied, trying hard not to smile.
“What is it? Is it Sarah? Grant?”
Christy began to giggle. Why did she all of a sudden feel so good inside? “I have a nursery full of boxes that are supposed to be made into cribs and dressers and changing tables and all manner of nifty baby conveniences.”
Curt chuckled. “Sounds bad.”
“It is,” she answered. “I can skillfully design and craft beautiful clothing, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what slot A is or where the double brace bolts go.”
Curt laughed. “Why, Miss Connors, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking for help.”
There was silence for several seconds before Christy responded. “I guess I am. Do you suppose Debbie could come over and put together this crib? Sarah’s due to come home from the hospital tomorrow, and if it’s left to me, I’ll still be trying to find the double brace bolts when the sun rises again.”
Curt smiled to himself. “Debbie’s busy. Something about an important dinner date with her real fiancé.”
“Pity. I really would have liked to talk over several things with her.”
“Oh? And just what kind of things did you have in mind?”
“Why, double brace bolts, of course,” Christy laughed.
“Of course.” Curt waited, saying nothing more.
“You aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?” Christy finally muttered.
“Nope.” Curt’s simple reply filled her ears.
“Very well,” she said with a sigh. “Would you come over and help me put this crib together?”
“I’d be delighted,” Curt said in a formal tone that left Christy smiling. “I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Thanks. You know the way over, and I’ll do like that motel chain and leave the downstairs light on for you. I’m afraid I shall be upstairs sorting through bags of important metallic discs and little nut things and—”
“Just leave them in their little sacks and wait for me,” Curt quickly interrupted. “I’ll be right there.”
Christy didn’t have long to wait. As Curt’s sports car roared into the drive, Christy wondered whether a DEA agent could get speeding tickets fixed. Maybe if the police stopped him, Curt would just tell them he was on a case.
Waiting to open the door until he knocked, Christy suddenly felt self-conscious. Things had changed between her and Curt, and while she didn’t feel the same sense of betrayal that she once had, her feelings frightened her.
Curt knocked and without even waiting to look as though she was doing something other than standing with her hand on the doorknob, Christy opened the door in welcome.
“Hello,” Christy said rather shyly.
“Hello.” His voice was soft and warm, and Christy immediately felt her heart beat faster. Curt came into the house, and when Christy did nothing but stand there, he asked, “So where’s the nursery?”
“At the head of the stairs,” she announced and led the way.
Opening the door opposite her bedroom, she went to where the instructions for the crib lay, with four bags of bolts, nuts, and other pieces that she couldn’t name. Picking them up, she thrust them into Curt’s hands.
“I defy you to find the double brace bolts,” she said with as much reserve as she could.
Curt laughed, glanced for a moment at the instructions, then at the bag, and finally held up the smallest of the four. “These, my dear Christy, are double brace bolts.”
Christy looked at the drawing on the instruction page, then back to the bag, and returned her gaze to Curt’s amused face. “Dumb luck,” she replied and went in the direction of the door. “You create the crib. I’ll go get us some refreshments.”
“You sure you can cook?” Curt teased.
Christy popped her head back around the door. “You mean to tell me that you plan to spend the rest of your life with me, and you still don’t believe I can cook?” She hadn’t really meant to refer to his marriage proposal, but the words spilled out before she could check them.
Curt’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he dropped the bags of bolts and instructions and came to the doorway. “I figured it wasn’t as important as other things I already knew you were good at.”
“Such as?”
“I already know that you can sew like a dream,” he smiled. “And you can handle a caterer with the greatest of ease, and you wear expensive clothes better than anyone I know.”
Christy feigned a look of disgust. “You’re hopeless. You know nothing about me except for what your DEA dossier tells you.” She started to walk away, but Curt quickly pulled her back.
“My files didn’t tell me what a great kisser you are,” he said and lowered his lips quickly to hers before she could protest.
Christy melted against him and sighed. She wanted to forget all her fears. She wanted to give in and tell Curt that she would marry him.
Curt pulled away, and Christy opened her eyes to find him staring down thoughtfully at her expression. “I can always hire a cook.”
Christy smiled and pushed him away playfully. “And I can hire a crib builder, and I will if you don’t get back to work.”
The evening passed in a state of near perfection, as far as Christy was concerned. Curt continued to tease and joke about her kitchen skills, but when he tried her almond cheesecake, he stopped laughing and had seconds.
They worked well together, putting not only the crib into sturdy order, but the dressing table, baby swing, and bassinet, as well. Curt finally noticed that it was nearly eleven o’clock and held up his hands to halt their operation.
“Enough for tonight. What we haven’t finished, we can do tomorrow after we bring her home.”
Christy yawned and agreed, making her way to the door.
Arm in arm, they walked down the staircase, enjoying the quiet moment together. Curt started to kiss Christy, when the telephone rang.
Christy made her way to the sitting room to pick it up. “Hello?”
“Christy, it’s Grant.” The color drained from Christy’s face, and she hoped that Curt wouldn’t pick up on her sudden trembling. She turned away, praying that Curt would just ignore her and think the call was something private, which of course it was.
“Yes,” she finally managed. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you have my money?”
“I think so,” she answered carefully.
“Sarah is being released tomorrow, you know. I have the lawyer’s papers right here in front of me, and I’ll be happy to sign them, but not before I see the money. I’ll come over in the morning and—”
“No!” Christy exclaimed a bit more harshly than she’d intended. “I mean, that wouldn’t work for me.”
“Then where?” Grant questioned irritably.
“I’m not sure,” she answered softly. “Why don’t you call me in the morning?”
“All right, but don’t think about pulling anything stupid, or I’ll take Sarah.”
“Of course, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good-bye.” Christy replaced the phone with trembling hands. She bolstered her courage and turned to face Curt, who was admiring a Victorian vase.
“Planning another wedding dress?” Curt questioned without looking up from the ornate rosebud vase.
“Something like that,” Christy replied. “It’s late, Curt. I think you’d better go.” The playfulness was gone from her voice.
“I was thinking the same thing.” He replaced the vase on the Queen Anne table and walked to the door with Christy close behind him.
Pausing, Curt surprised Christy by turning to take her in his arms. Christy closed her eyes, anticipating a kiss, but Curt did nothing until she opened her eyes. Then just as suddenly as he’d held her, he released her and walked out the door.
Christy followed him outside and stood at the top of the porch stairs. At the bottom step, with something between sorrow and anger in his eyes, Curt spoke. “Sooner or later,” he said stiffly, “you’re going to learn to trust me. I’m not a fool, Christy. People don’t call at this hour of the night to arrange for a wedding dress.” With that, he walked to his car and drove away, leaving Christy feeling as though she were a small child who had just received a reprimand.
Aching to explain, Christy sighed deeply and went back inside. Dear God, she prayed silently, locking the door and turning off the downstairs lights, how can I tell him? How can I allow Curt to get in the middle of this thing?
After a restless night, Christy awoke to the telephone ringing. Her house might as well be Grand Central Station for all the endless interruptions. Certain that it would be Grant, Christy was stunned when one of the nurses she’d become well-acquainted with at the hospital spoke from the other end.
“Christy, I just wanted to call and let you know that Sarah’s father picked her up a few minutes ago.”
Christy felt as though she was going to be ill. Had she truly heard the woman correctly? “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I was so surprised, but he had all the correct identification. I figured he must have changed his mind about raising her. I just wanted to call and make sure you were all right. I know how much you were looking forward to taking Sarah home.”
“Thanks,” Christy whispered, trying to wipe away tears and sleep from her eyes. She hung up the phone without waiting for the woman to say anything more. Grant had Sarah! Now the real waiting game would begin.
Christy flew into action. She got dressed as fast as she could and hurriedly put her makeup on before rushing downstairs to get her bankbook. She had to get Grant’s money before he called and expected the exchange. She was nearly out the door when Curt appeared.
“Going somewhere?” he asked casually, then continued, “Of course you are. Sarah’s coming home today. Come on, I’ll drive you.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Christy said rather abruptly.
“You aren’t going to punish me because I forced your hand last night, are you?”
Christy felt her breath quicken. If she didn’t hurry and get to the bank, Grant might call while she was out, and she would miss knowing where they were to meet. “I’m not upset with you!”
“You sound upset,” Curt replied softly. “What’s wrong, Christy?”
Christy wanted so badly to break down and tell Curt everything. But fear won out, and she shook her head.
“I have to go somewhere, and I need to do it quickly. I can’t pick up Sarah until later,” she lied, while telling herself it wasn’t a lie because she didn’t know when Grant would allow her to exchange Sarah for the money.
“I could drive you,” Curt insisted.
“No, I—” The phone rang and broke Christy’s train of thought as she jumped. Hurrying back into the house, she picked up the phone.
“Do you have it?” Grant questioned.
“Yes,” she said, “at least I will. I have to stop by the bank.” She didn’t realize until she felt Curt’s hands on her shoulders that he had followed her into the house.
“I’ll expect you at ten,” Grant told her and gave her instruc- tions to a nearby shopping mall.
“I understand,” Christy replied and hung the phone up. Curt’s hands felt like heavy weights. Weights of truth and trust that threatened to unnerve her reasoning.
Relying on old modeling skills, Christy turned with a smile fixed on her face. “I really have to go, Curt. I’ll see you later and then maybe you can help me get Sarah.” Her hands were shaking, so she held them together tightly, hoping that Curt wouldn’t notice.
“All right, Christy. I’ll come back later.”
Christy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and waited until Curt’s car was well down the road before heading out to her own car. Then, just as she started to back up, a delivery truck pulled up to the end of her driveway and blocked her exit.
“You Ms. Connors?” the deliveryman questioned.
“Yes,” Christy replied, getting out of the car. “Look, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Can I help you?”
“I have a delivery here for you. Just sign on the line,” he said, handing her a small computerized tablet and marking pen.
Christy signed and handed the machine back to the man, shaking her head. “I don’t remember any shipment being due in. Can you tell me what it is?”
The man punched something into the computer. “Looks like material from Ireland.”
“But that should have been shipped to New York, not here,” Christy protested. “I have a warehouse waiting for this.”
“I can’t help that, ma’am. I have to leave it here with you. Just show me where.”
Christy threw up her hands in exasperation. “All right,” she said, fumbling for her house key. “Bring it inside, but please hurry.”