Jared shook his head. He drank the last of his coffee and tightened the grip on the cup. “I can't. If I took any actions that caused her family harm, I don't think Katherine would forgive me. She wants to solve it herself, remember? No Superman routine."
His eyes narrowed. “That's what she meant?"
Jared nodded. “She was warning me not to try and help."
“What tipped you off she doesn't intend to marry Paul?"
“Her ‘trust me'. I asked her once how I knew she wouldn't go back to Paul. She said ‘trust me'. That's what I'm doing."
Carl chuckled. “Yeah? Why you got me chasing my tail around finding out what her ex is up to?"
Jared frowned. “I trust Katherine to the moon and back, but not that weasel. Paul's dangerous. If she needs me, I want the ammunition to step in fast and help her."
Carl pushed away from the table and stood. “You're placing a lot of faith in a few vague phrases. What if you're wrong? What if Katherine's remarrying her ex?"
Jared slammed the cup down so hard it shattered.
Chapter Thirteen
Katherine had three days to accomplish the impossible. According to the banks she'd called, obtaining a loan for three hundred and fifty thousand dollars would take her weeks, and the holidays wouldn't speed up the process either. She was on her own.
“Are you sure about this, Katherine? You love your house. Every time I asked to buy it, you turned me down flat,” Deborah reminded her.
Katherine twisted the cord to the phone. She studied the painting of her mother and father that hung in the bedroom of her mother's home. His arms enfolded her in a gentle embrace. The light in her eyes radiated warmth even through the canvas as their hands touched lightly. “I'm positive."
“Is anything wrong?” her childhood friend asked with concern. “I'll miss having you live next door, but where ever you move we'll keep in touch like always.” She paused. “You're determined to go through with this, aren't you?"
She hated lying to her friend. “No, nothing's wrong. Yes, I'm selling my house, whether you buy it or not. Mom needs me here after her hip surgery. I don't want mother and Matt to know about this until I tell them."
Deborah giggled. “You're going to surprise them at Christmas. Matt's always wanted to live nearer to his grandma. That's so like you. You're always so sweet."
“Stop buttering me up. I won't come down on the price,” she kidded and crossed her fingers. “Trouble is, I need to sell it fast. Like yesterday."
“You got it. I don't want to give you time to change your mind."
“I won't,” Katherine promised and uncrossed her fingers.
“I'm sorry. That probably sounded like I'm not grateful for our friendship. I truly am.” Deborah sniffed several times.
“Don't start blubbering, or you'll have me doing it too. It's not like we won't ever see each other again."
“Of course not. My delivery date is March fourth. So expect a call about that time."
Deborah was expecting twin boys again and ecstatic. Katherine remembered her own innocent dreams of having more babies. Those dreams had died. She envied Deborah's hopefulness about the future. “I will."
Deborah laughed. “I'm so excited. We've always rented, so this will be the first home we'll own. Yours will give us the extra space we need, too. I can't wait to tell John. We've tried to find a larger house in this neighborhood for so long."
Katherine turned to the computer and attached a file to her e-mail. “I'm sending you information so we can handle all the transactions by Thursday through the mortgage company, title company, local banks, and fax. I'll come to Sugar Land January second and move my belongings. Is that date okay? If not, I'll get my stuff out right after Christmas."
“Don't be a silly goose. Of course, January second is okay. Take a couple of weeks more, if you need them."
“Thanks. I may do that.” She'd have to find an apartment after Christmas in Houston and hunt another house.
“John always takes care of everything for me, so we'll wire the money to your bank right away. Isn't he a doll?"
Another pang of jealousy hit Katherine. John pampered Deborah, especially when she was pregnant. “Yes, he is. John spoils you rotten. You better hold onto him."
After Deborah hung up, Katherine stared at the list of assets displayed on the computer. All her years of hard work fit on half a page. Her throat constricted and she swallowed hard. They're only material things, she reminded herself. Things can be replaced.
She winced and moved their home in the suburbs of Sugar Land to the sold column of the spreadsheet.
Glancing up, the date posted at the top edge of the computer screen glared back at her-December eighteenth.
She had three days to beat Paul at his own game by selling everything she'd ever owned to pay off her father's debts. Somehow, it didn't feel like winning. This morning she had pawned her jewelry, except for the emerald pendant Paul made her wear. The jewelry was no real loss because he had given it to her. She moved it over to the sold section, too.
Paul's threat loomed like a vulture at the top of her spreadsheet. With the sale of her house and jewelry, she'd reduced his threat to a measly two hundred eighty thousand. Right?
How could she possibly raise the rest?
Someone tried to open her bedroom door. It clattered as the handle was jarred up and down. A foot kicked loudly against the bottom of the door. “Why is it locked?” Paul's voice shouted from the hall.
Her hand shot down to the mouse and hit ‘SAVE,’ her stomach turning somersaults until it finished whirring and clicking the valuable information onto her floppy. She flung the disc behind a rack of books with one hand and opened a new, innocent file with the other. She sprinted across the room and unlocked the door.
Paul flung it open, banging it against the wall. “Don't lock me out of here again.” His lips pressed into an angry scowl. He glanced around the room and looked inside the closet. “I heard your voice.” His eyes narrowed. “You trying to pull something?"
“You missed the bed,” she said, lifting the spread so he could peek under it.
“Very funny. What the hell were you doing in here?"
She pointed to the computer. Last year's presentation showed on the screen, but he wouldn't know the slides were from a previous year. “Practicing a speech."
He walked to the monitor, clicked the mouse and read a few lines.
“Pretty dull, huh?” she asked.
When he relaxed and seemed to accept her story, she breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“I thought we'd go out to lunch. We should let Grace and Matt see us together some over the next couple of days,” he suggested, walking back toward the doorway.
Paul had left after breakfast and stayed gone for three hours today. His ‘trip’ was her window of opportunity to raise money. She suspected he had gone to see Ann Young. Maybe if she prodded him a little, he'd get angry and stay away more.
She had to try.
“Where'd you go this morning?” she asked, glancing at him.
“An urgent matter came up,” he said suggestively. The look he gave her left no doubt where he'd been.
She knew he hated orders. Tell him not to do anything, and he'd do it just for spite. “Stay away from Ann Young while you're here.” She turned her back on him and stood by the computer with her arms crossed, waiting for his response.
She heard him move closer.
“You want me to bring my urges in here?” His breath fell on the nape of her neck.
She lifted a four-inch bladed letter opener, so he could see it over he shoulder. “Do you think you should?"
Paul moved away. “I don't think so, and stop trying to tell me what to do.” He pointed his finger at her. “That's the thing I hated most about being married to you. I'll see her every morning if I want to. Ann's a helluva lot of fun. Hot. Bedding you was like rubbing against ice,” he accused.