But once she’d focused on Coop and not just his Web site, she’d lost her concentration and found herself here at the window, staring out at the world, wondering why the emotional part of life had to be so complicated.
She was unable to sort out the waves of panic engulfing her at the thought of Coop developing real feelings for her. Was it that she couldn’t trust in those feelings? Or was it that she was afraid those feelings would come with expectations for her to settle down? And would that be so bad? If Coop was the reason?
Sara had accused her of using travel to run away from problems at home. But Lexie couldn’t imagine giving up her many sojourns around the world, feeding her mind and her soul with different cultures, images, sights and smells. Losing that ability would stifle her. So how could something that brought her such joy really be an escape? Besides, Coop understood how important her travels were, so would he really expect her to give them up completely?
She was afraid to find out.
Afraid she’d have to choose.
Afraid of leaving him.
And afraid of being asked to stay.
Lexie let out a huge sigh, no closer to understanding her conflict or coming to a resolution, when suddenly she heard the sound of someone playing with the lock on the front door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HEART IN HER THROAT, Lexie headed for the front door.
Coop had also been on guard and came up behind her.
“Why isn’t she knocking?” Lexie asked softly.
“Good question. I left the bolt undone, so let’s see what happens.” Coop paused a few feet away from the door, folded his arms across his chest and waited.
Lexie stood by his side.
After a few more minutes of listening to the sounds of someone playing with the lock, Coop reached out and yanked open the door.
A large, bald man stumbled into the apartment first, followed by Charlotte, then Sylvia. All three righted themselves and looked up, Charlotte and Sylvia with a guilty look in their eyes.
That was something, at least, Lexie thought. “Grandma, what’s going on? And who is this man?”
“My guess is that his name is Ricky Burnett,” Coop said. “Am I right?”
“In the flesh.” The older man stuck out his hand in greeting.
Coop shook it, though he looked at Ricky as if he had a screw loose in his head. “Living room. Now,” Coop ordered the trio.
Lexie shook her head and followed them inside.
The visitors sat on the sofa, the two women on one side, Ricky Burnett on the other. Charlotte, to Lexie’s relief, looked perfectly healthy, a glow in her cheeks.
“I want an explanation and I want it now,” Lexie told her grandmother. “Start at the beginning.” Lexie settled into Coop’s recliner and steeled herself for whatever crazy story was sure to come.
Coop dragged a kitchen chair into the room, straddling it backwards. “And don’t leave anything out.”
The three elders each let out a put-upon sigh, but no one stepped up to speak.
“Let’s start with why you didn’t just knock on the door,” Coop said.
When nobody answered, he turned his reporter’s stare on Ricky. “Let me guess. You broke in once, figured it was so easy you’d do it again.”
Ricky looked down at his khaki pants. “You changed the lock,” the other man muttered.
Coop rolled his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t? Better yet, did you really think we’d just leave the necklace out in plain sight so you could take it?” he asked, turning his pointed gaze on Charlotte.
“It was worth a shot,” Lexie’s grandmother said, a bit too defensively, in Lexie’s opinion. “I’m actually just retrieving my own property.”
That was open to debate. Her grandmother’s audacity was not and Lexie clenched her jaw. “Let’s not go there just yet.”
Coop nodded. “So now that we’ve confirmed who broke in the first time, let’s go back to how you three met. That’s a simple enough question for all of you to tackle.”
“I was born and raised in the Bronx, New York,” Charlotte began.
Lexie shot her a warning look.
“Okay, fine.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Sylvia and I grew up as neighbors in the Bronx, you know that.”
“But at the time in question, I was set up with Ricky on a blind date. Later he gave me a job at the jewelry store where he worked,” Sylvia said.
“I was the manager of the store,” Ricky added.
Lexie nodded. “Better.”
“It wasn’t easy for women to get jobs back then. We were expected to marry and have babies.” Charlotte’s mutinous expression said it all on that subject.
“True. It wasn’t the we-can-have-it-all attitude women have today,” Sylvia added.
“And neither one of us was ready to settle down. There was just too much of the world to explore, things to do, people to meet,” Charlotte said, her voice rising in excitement.
And sounding too much like Lexie, the world traveler, for Lexie’s comfort, given the illegal, immoral detour the story was about to take.
“Go on,” she said tightly.
“Well.” Charlotte inclined her head. “Given that it wasn’t easy for single women to find work at nontraditional jobs and sewing just wasn’t my thing—I occasionally had to resort to…” Charlotte’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.
“Stealing,” Lexie finished for her, her stomach cramping.
“It could have been worse. I vetoed prostitution,” her grandmother said.
“Oh, God,” Lexie said.
“Your parents wouldn’t help?” Coop asked gently.
Of course, he didn’t feel the same sense of betrayal that was coursing through Lexie at the moment. No question, her grandmother had made bad choices in her life and maybe she’d had her reasons. They’d find out. But to think Charlotte had lied to Lexie, of all people…it hurt worse than discovering there was no Santa Claus, Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. And hadn’t Charlotte been the one to keep those illusions going as long as possible?
“Lexie, you have to understand, the world was much different then. It’s one thing for you not to conform to your father’s exacting standards. You can still go out and make your way, head held high. My parents washed their hands of me when I wouldn’t conform to the standards of society. And that left me all alone,” Charlotte explained.
Lexie met her grandmother’s gaze, knowing how much Charlotte needed her to understand. It wasn’t easy, but she nodded slowly, trying to imagine herself as an eighteen-year-old in not just an unforgiving family but an unforgiving society.