Getting up to use the bathroom, she tried to put Booker out of her mind. She didn’t need anything to confuse her right now. She had enough to deal with. But when she walked across the hall, she bumped into someone going to the same place and knew instinctively it wasn’t Delbert.
“Go ahead,” Booker muttered, pulling away.
“Booker?” she said before he could retreat to his room.
“What?”
“Do you really think I can get three thousand dollars for that old car?”
“You should be able to get that much.”
“Good. I called the Web designer I was working with in San Francisco today—”
“Was that what the two-fifty you left on the counter was all about?”
She’d given him the last of the change she had in the bottom of her purse. “I wanted to reimburse you for the call. Anyway, she said I should be able to get a quality computer, monitor and printer for around fifteen hundred. And the software I’ll need should run me about nine hundred.”
“What software are you going to need?” he asked.
“She said I could get StudioMX from Macromedia, which will include Dreamweaver for creating pages and sites, Fireworks for building graphics and Flash for building complex animations. It also includes a few other things, but I’m not sure yet what it all means.”
“Have you ordered Internet service?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting until I sell the Cadillac. How long do you think that’ll take?”
“The market’s soft right now. Around here, there’s no telling.”
She hoped it would be soon. With a baby on the way, she felt as if time was like sand running through an hourglass, forever dwindling. For her child’s sake, she had to be much better prepared to make a living—and soon.
He started moving back to his bedroom, but she stopped him again. “Did you…did you like dinner, Booker?” she asked. “Do you think it’s going to be okay to have me here?”
“Dinner was good,” he said.
“I was hoping maybe we could be friends. You know, like you and Rebecca.”
“I’ve never slept with Rebecca. I’ve never even wanted to.”
“Well, you don’t want to sleep with me anymore. That should count for something, right?”
“Just let me know when you’re out of the bathroom,” he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BOOKER COULD TELL THAT Katie was feeling better. She was getting up in the mornings, showering and riding with him and Delbert into town, where she studied at the library all day. Then she caught a ride home with him or someone else going the same way and started dinner before doing laundry and cleaning house. A couple of times, Booker had to tell her to go easy. He was afraid she was working too hard and might hurt the baby. But she insisted she felt no pain. And he found that having her around wasn’t nearly the torture he’d expected. Life could certainly be worse than having someone wash his clothes and cook him a hot meal every day. He and Katie had even started playing chess at night while Delbert took Bruiser out for a walk.
“So, did you get any calls on the Cadillac this afternoon?” Katie asked as they sat across the chess board, a week after their new arrangement had begun.
Booker hadn’t received one call on that car since the day he posted the For Sale sign. But he couldn’t keep telling Katie “no.” After her depression those first few days, he was afraid that if good news didn’t come soon, she’d lose her newfound energy and optimism.
He pretended to study the board so he wouldn’t have to answer, but the second he moved his bishop, she asked him again.
“Booker?”
“Hmm?” He finally looked up and was pleasantly surprised to notice that one week of eating regular meals and having a sense of purpose had made a big difference in Katie. Already the dark circles beneath her eyes were gone, and her normal color was returning.
“Has anyone called about the Cadillac?” she asked.
“One guy,” he lied.
Her face lit up. “Really? Who was it?”
“Just someone passing through town.”
“What did he say?”
Her pressing questions and the eagerness in her voice made Booker wish he’d stuck with being honest. “He just stopped by and looked at it, that’s all.”
“Did he make an offer?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you think he might?”
Booker rubbed his chin and pretended to concentrate, hoping she’d let the conversation go. He saw a move he could make with his knight that would seriously damage her ability to defend her king.
Predictably she kept badgering him about the car. “Well?”
“He could. I don’t know.”
“I’ll go as low as twenty-five hundred,” she said. “If anyone mentions anything close to that, take it, okay?”
She’d said so dozens of times, but he didn’t point that out. He knew she was just nervous. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Thanks.” She moved her queen across the board to take his rook.
“That’s what I get for letting you distract me,” he grumbled, realizing she’d just ruined the fancy move he’d planned for his knight.
“What did I do to distract you?” she asked.
She couldn’t fit into her jeans anymore and had to wear them unbuttoned at the top because she didn’t have any maternity clothes. And her br**sts seemed bigger every day. Booker found that pretty distracting. But the desperation in her voice was why he’d lied to her in the first place. “Nothing.”
After a few more moves, he managed to take her queen, which went a long way toward making him feel better about having lost his rook.
“Do you think maybe we should advertise the Cadillac in one of those car magazines in Boise?” she mused as he closed in on her king.
Now he knew she was distracted because she was usually much tougher to beat. Sometimes he couldn’t beat her at all. “No one’s going to drive all the way out here to look at such an old car when there’re so many in the city,” he said. “Especially during the winter.”
She propped her chin on her fist and gazed at him. “It’s got to sell, Booker. My whole plan hinges on that money.”
“It’ll sell,” he promised.
But two more weeks passed without a single nibble, and she began to ask about it less and less. He knew it was because she couldn’t bear the answer.