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44 Cranberry Point
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisThings haven’t been the same in town since a man died at the bed-and-breakfast.Turns out his name was Max and that Bob Beldon, the owner of the Thyme & Tide, knew the dead man in Vietnam. No one has any idea why Max came to Cedar Cove, or – more importantly – who killed him…But there’s plenty more news to share. Jon and Maryellen are getting married. Olivia is back from her honeymoon, but trouble is just around a corner…And Maryellen’s mother, Grace, has more than her share of interested men.The question is: which one is she going to choose?The Cedar Cove series is now a hit Channel 5 TV series, appearing on UK screens on CHANNEL 5USA









44 Cranberry Point

Debbie Macamber











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)


Make time for friends. Make time forDebbie Macomber.

CEDAR COVE 16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD 204 ROSEWOOD AVENUE 311 PELICAN COURT 44 CRANBERRY POINT 50 HARBOR STREET 6 RAINIER DRIVE

BLOSSOM STREET THE SHOP ON BLOSSOM STREET A GOODYARN OLD BOYFRIENDS WEDNESDAYS AT FOUR TWENTY WISHES SUMMER ON BLOSSOM STREET HANNAH’S LIST

THURSDAYS AT EIGHT

CHRISTMAS IN SEATTLE


To Leslee Borger and

her incredible mother, Ruth Koelzer


Dear Reader,

If this is your first visit to Cedar Cove, welcome! All the people in town are eager to introduce themselves. And if you’re here for a repeat visit, welcome back. There’s been a lot going on in town. Charlotte, Jack, Olivia, Grace, Cecilia and the others are looking forward to bringing you up to date on everything that’s happened. You’ll also discover surprises along the way…as well as some romance and a few laughs.

I promise a final resolution to the mystery about the man who died in the Beldons’ B&B. After all, Peggy and Bob just want their lives to return to normal. But…there’s another mystery developing, and this one involves the McAfees.

If you’d like to drop me a note, just log on to my website at www.debbiemacomber.com and sign the guest book. If you’re interested in regular updates on the Cedar Cove characters, log on and click on the Cedar Cove button. As a bonus, I include the characters’ favourite recipes…If you’re not online but don’t want to miss out, you can write to me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, Washington 98366, USA.

Speaking of Port Orchard…If you happen to visit, you might notice a resemblance between my home town and Cedar Cove. Not the characters, mind you, but just about everything else. Towns like this are great to visit in real life—and between the pages of a book.

Now, please grab something to drink (Peggy Beldon would make you a cup of tea!), find a comfortable spot and begin your visit to Cedar Cove. I’m so glad you’re here.

Warmest regards,







Some of the Residents ofCedar Cove, Washington

Olivia Lockhart Griffin: Divorced from Stan Lockhart. Now married to Jack Griffin. Family court judge in Cedar Cove. Mother of Justine and James. Lives at 16 Lighthouse Road.

Charlotte Jefferson: Mother of Olivia, widow, lifelong resident of Cedar Cove.

Justine (Lockhart) Gunderson: Daughter of Olivia, married to Seth, mother of Leif.

Seth Gunderson: Justine’s husband. Co-owner, with Justine, of The Lighthouse restaurant.

James Lockhart: Olivia’s son and Justine’s younger brother. In the navy. Lives in San Diego with wife, Selina, and daughter, Isabella.

Stanley Lockhart: Olivia’s ex-husband and father of James and Justine. Now lives in Seattle and divorced from his second wife.

Will Jefferson: Olivia’s brother, Charlotte’s son. Married and lives in Atlanta.

Grace Sherman: Olivia’s best friend. Librarian. Widow. Mother of Maryellen and Kelly. Lives at 204 Rosewood Lane.

Dan Sherman: Grace’s dead husband.

Maryellen Sherman: Oldest daughter of Grace and Dan. Mother of Katie.

Kelly Jordan: Maryellen’s sister, married to Paul, mother of Tyler.

Jon Bowman: Photographer, chef and father of Katie. Engaged to Maryellen.

Jack Griffin: Newspaper reporter and editor of The Cedar Cove Chronicle. Recovering alcoholic, married to Olivia Lockhart. Father of Eric, who lives in Nevada with his wife, Shelly, and their twin boys.

Zachary Cox: Accountant, remarried to Rosie. Father of Allison and Eddie Cox. Lives at 311 Pelican Court.

Cliff Harding: Retired engineer and now horse breeder living near Cedar Cove. Divorced father of Lisa, who lives in Maryland. He has an on-and-off relationship with Grace Sherman.

Cecilia Randall: Navy wife, living near Cedar Cove. Accountant. Married to Ian Randall, submariner. Lost a baby, Allison.

Bob and Peggy Beldon: Retired. Own the Thyme and Tide Bed & Breakfast at 44 Cranberry Point. Have two adult children.

Roy McAfee: Private detective, retired from Seattle police force. Two adult children. The McAfees live at 5 Harbor Street.

Corrie McAfee: Roy’s wife and office manager.

Troy Davis: Cedar Cove sheriff.

Pastor Flemming: Local Methodist minister.

Ben Rhodes: Retired naval officer. Member of the Senior Centre. Involved with Charlotte Jefferson.




Chapter One


Peggy Beldon walked into her newly planted garden, taking real pleasure in the sights and smells that surrounded her. This was her private place, her one true source of serenity. The fresh briny scent of the water off Puget Sound drifted toward her as she watched the Washington State ferry glide from Bremerton toward Seattle on its sixty-minute journey. This was a typical May afternoon in Cedar Cove-comfortably warm with just a hint of a breeze.

Peggy uncoiled the garden hose and moved carefully between the rows of leaf lettuce, sweet peas and pole beans. She had a strong practical streak, expressed in her vegetable and herb gardens; she satisfied her craving for beauty with the flower gardens in front. Looking back at the house that always had been her dream, Peggy smiled. She’d grown up in Cedar Cove, graduated from the local high school and married Bob Beldon on his return from Vietnam. The early years had been difficult because of Bob’s reliance on alcohol. But then, to her eternal gratitude, he’d discovered Alcoholics Anonymous; it had saved their marriage and quite possibly Bob’s life. Until AA, Bob had spent most nights drinking, by himself or with friends. When he drank, he became a different person, no longer the man she’d married. She didn’t like to think about that time. Thankfully, her husband had remained sober for twenty-one years.

Walking between the rows, Peggy gently watered the seedlings. Several years earlier, Bob had accepted early retirement and with the severance package, they’d purchased the house on Cranberry Point. Peggy had loved it for as long as she could remember. Situated on a point of land overlooking Sinclair Inlet, the two-story structure, built in the late 1930s, had seemed like a mansion to her. Over the years, it had changed owners a number of times and had started to deteriorate, since no one had cared enough to provide the maintenance it needed. By straining their finances, Bob and Peggy had managed to buy it for a price far below its current market value.

Her husband was a talented handyman and within a few months they were able to hang out a sign for their bed-and-breakfast. Peggy hadn’t known how much business to expect, how many guests would be attracted to the Thyme and Tide B and B, as they’d called it. She’d hoped, of course, that they’d make enough to supplement their retirement income-and they had. She was proud of the success they’d achieved. Their traditional home, warm hospitality and her cooking had brought them steady customers and a growing reputation. They’d even been reviewed in a national magazine, which had reserved its highest praise for the food, especially her baking. The reviewer had spent two whole sentences describing her blueberry muffins and homemade fruit cobbler. She had twenty blueberry bushes and eight raspberry canes, and she pampered them lovingly. Each summer she was rewarded with an ample supply for her guests and her family. Life had seemed about as perfect as it could get.

Then the unimaginable happened.

More than a year ago, a stranger had knocked on their door in the middle of a dark, stormy night. If it hadn’t been so clichéd she might’ve been amused, but this was no laughing matter. The man had rented a room and then promptly locked himself inside.

A hundred times since, Peggy had regretted not insisting he complete the usual paperwork. It was late, and he’d seemed so tired that they’d simply shown him to his room. They could deal with the necessities in the morning, over breakfast.

But by morning, the stranger was dead.

Ever since, Peggy had felt as if they were caught in some kind of whirlwind, tossed about by forces beyond their control. Bad enough that the man had died in their home, but then they’d learned that he’d carried false identification. Nothing was as it seemed. By the end of that day, after hours with the sheriff and the coroner, there’d been more questions than answers.

She saw Bob pull the riding lawn mower out of the garage. At the sound of the engine, Peggy paused in watering her seedlings, one hand shading her eyes. Even after all these years of marriage, she never grew tired of their life together. They’d survived the bad times with their love intact. And their attraction, too. Bob was tall and had kept his shape, his sandy brown hair neatly trimmed. His arms were already tanned from exposure to the sun. He loved his workshop and she was genuinely impressed by what he could do with a few pieces of oak or pine. She’d fallen in love with Bob Beldon as a teenager and she loved him still.

Now, however, she was worried. She didn’t want to think about the dead man, but it was unavoidable, especially after what they’d recently found out. Sheriff Davis had identified their mystery guest as Maxwell Russell. To say Bob was shocked would be putting it mildly. He’d been with Max in Vietnam. Dan Sherman, who was also dead, Bob, Max and another man named Stewart Samuels had belonged to that squadron. They’d gotten lost in a Southeast Asian jungle with tragic results.

Once the identity of the dead man was established, another shocking revelation had come to light. The sheriff, with the help of local private investigator Roy McAfee, had discovered that Max Russell’s death was no accident.

He’d been poisoned.

The water bottle he’d carried with him had been laced with odorless, tasteless Rohypnol, commonly known as the “date rape” drug. The dose had been large enough to stop his heart. Maxwell Russell had gone to bed, tired from a long day of travel, and he never woke up.

Bob rode past her on the lawn mower with a quick wave, and Peggy continued to water her garden, but a pang went through her. At this very moment Bob could be in danger, but he seemed content to ignore any risk rather than admit her concerns were legitimate.

As she set aside the hose, Peggy caught sight of Sheriff Davis’s patrol car coming down Cranberry Point. She immediately felt the tension between her shoulder blades. She hoped he planned to talk some sense into Bob.

Her husband must have seen the patrol car at the same time Peggy did because he cut the engine and climbed off the lawn mower. Sheriff Troy Davis turned into the driveway, then stepped out of his vehicle. In the beginning, when it looked like Bob might be a suspect in the murder case, Davis wasn’t nearly as welcome here as he was now.

The sheriff, who was probably a little heavier than he should be, took a moment to hike up his pants and adjust his gun before heading across the lawn to meet Bob. Unwilling to be left out of the conversation, Peggy shut off the water and hurried across the half-mown grass.

“Peggy.” Davis touched the brim of his hat and nodded in her direction. “I was just telling Bob it might be a good idea if the three of us sat down and talked.”

Peggy nodded in return, appreciating the fact that he wanted to include her.

Bob led the way to the patio, and Peggy was grateful she’d taken time that morning to sweep it off. The three of them sat at the round pine table Bob had built several years earlier. He’d painted it a deep gray-blue, a color that complemented the white siding. The striped umbrella was up and the patio was awash in sunshine.

“I thought I’d update you on my conversation with Hannah Russell.”

A couple of months earlier, after Max’s identity had been uncovered, his daughter had asked to meet with Bob and Peggy. It had been an uncomfortable meeting, but Peggy’s heart had ached for the young woman. She’d answered Hannah’s questions to the best of her ability.

For her part, there was little Hannah could tell them. All she knew was what her father had told her-he was taking a short trip, although he hadn’t divulged where. That was the last she’d heard. When he didn’t return to California, she’d filed a missing persons report with the police. A year had passed before she learned his fate.

“I feel so bad for her,” Peggy said. Hannah had lost her mother some time before and was now an orphan with no other family.

“She was pretty upset,” Troy admitted. “You can imagine how painful it was to learn her father was dead. But to discover he’d been murdered…” He shook his head.

“Did she have any idea who might’ve done this?”

“None,” Davis told them. “She asked me to thank you for your kindness. Talking with you helped her resolve in her own mind what happened to her father. Peggy, she mentioned the letter you wrote, and I could tell it meant a great deal to her.”

Peggy bit her lip. “How’s she getting on with her life?”

The sheriff hesitated. “I can’t really say. She said she no longer has any reason to stay in California and implied that she’s thinking of moving. I asked her to keep in touch and she promised she would.”

Peggy could understand the young woman’s feelings. With both of her parents gone, Hannah was rootless. Peggy sympathized with her desire to leave the area where she’d grown up, where she was surrounded by so many memories. Every place she turned, every place she looked, Hannah must be reminded of the parents she’d loved.

“What did you find out about Colonel Samuels?” Bob asked, eyes narrowed as he gazed at Troy Davis.

Stewart Samuels was the fourth man in Vietnam with Bob and Dan and Max. Peggy knew the sheriff had recently been in contact with him. The colonel had been cleared in Max’s murder, at least as far as Davis was concerned, but her husband obviously had doubts. While Bob and the other two were eager to be discharged, back in the early seventies, Samuels had stayed in the Army and risen through the ranks.

“At this point I don’t consider the colonel a suspect.”

“He’s some mucky-muck in Army Intelligence from what I hear,” Bob muttered, as if that should be motive enough.

“Who lives in the Washington D.C. area,” Sheriff Davis stated calmly. “I’ve had him checked out by a number of people. He’s highly respected. He’s been cooperative and willing to help in any way he can. Perhaps you should talk to him yourself, Bob.”

Her husband declined with a sharp shake of his head. Bob wanted as little to do with the past as possible. Coping with what had happened to Dan, who’d committed suicide, and to Max, had been hard enough. The less he had to think about the past, or its effect on the present, the better.

“Is Bob in danger?” Peggy asked bluntly. Her husband might prefer not to acknowledge the likelihood of a threat, but Peggy wanted a realistic assessment of their situation.

“I think he might be at risk,” the sheriff said quietly.

It wasn’t what Peggy had hoped to hear, but she was grateful for his frankness. They had to face the truth, however unpleasant, and take appropriate precautions.

“Nonsense,” Bob insisted. “If anyone wanted me dead, I’d be six feet under by now.”

Maybe, but Peggy wasn’t willing to take chances with her husband’s life.

“Why don’t we arrange an extended vacation?” she suggested. It’d been years since they’d been away from the bed-and-breakfast, and they could use a break.

“For how long?” Bob asked.

“Until the case is solved,” Peggy told him, pleading with her eyes. This wasn’t the time to put on a brave front-not in her opinion, anyway.

“No way.” Bob’s quick refusal shouldn’t have come as any surprise. He’d been quite content to live in denial. Denial and featherbeds! Someone had to point out the very real possibility that he was in danger and because he was, so was she.

“I’m not leaving Cedar Cove.”

“Now, Bob…”

“I won’t let anyone or anything drive me out of my own home.”

A chill shot up Peggy’s spine. “But-”

“No, Peg,” he said, and his face hardened with resolve. “How long are we supposed to stay away? One month? Two?” He paused. “More than that?”

It wasn’t a question Troy could answer.

“Max was found dead over a year ago. I was supposedly in danger then, right?”

Sheriff Davis exchanged a concerned look with Peggy. “I understand what you’re saying, but we didn’t know then what we know now.”

“I’m not running! I spent half my life running, and I won’t do it again. If somebody wants me dead, then so be it.”

Peggy gasped.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her husband said, stretching his arm across the table to clasp her fingers with his. “I refuse to live like that, looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“Then perhaps you could compromise,” Davis said. “There’s no need to invite someone into your home who might want to harm you.”

“What do you mean?” Bob leaned closer, his stomach pressed against the rounded edge of the pinewood table. Peggy realized that despite his defiant words he was afraid. His body language revealed what he was unwilling to admit.

“I don’t know how many reservations you have for the B and B, but I’d advise you to not take any more.”

“We can easily cancel the ones we have,” Peggy murmured. Any number of businesses in town would welcome the additional bookings.

Bob directed his gaze at Peggy. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

She swallowed and nodded.

Bob continued to look unsure, as if even this one concession was more than he felt inclined to make.

“I’ve been worried ever since Jack and Olivia’s wedding,” she whispered.

A week earlier, Bob had stood up as Jack Griffin’s best man. That was just a day or two before they’d learned Max Russell had been murdered.

“All right.” Bob’s voice was heavy with reluctance. “We’ll cancel the reservations.”

“No guests,” Peggy said.

“No guests,” he confirmed, “until this matter is settled once and for all.”

This was going to hurt financially, but it didn’t matter. What did matter was having the reassurance that her husband was safe.

“I’ll do what I can to solve this quickly,” Troy promised them.

Peggy could only wonder how long that would take.




Chapter Two


Cecilia Randall stood on the Navy pier and watched the aircraft carrier George Washington sail into Sinclair Inlet. After six months serving in the Persian Gulf, her husband, Ian, was finally home. Cecilia had often heard people talk about hearts swelling and dismissed the expression as exaggerated, sentimental. Now she knew what it meant, how it felt. Her heart swelled with love, pride and patriotism as the massive ship headed toward Bremerton.

The other Navy wives and hordes of friends and family crowded the pier. Colorful banners waved in the wind, along with Welcome Home signs. News helicopters from the Seattle television stations circled the area, taping the event for the five-o’clock broadcast. The joy and excitement around her was infectious, despite the dreary, cloudy day. Even the lead-gray skies and the threat of imminent rain didn’t dampen Cecilia’s mood. A band played in the background, and the American flag rippled in the breeze. It could have been a Norman Rockwell painting.

Cecilia’s dearest friends, two other Navy wives, Cathy Lackey and Carol Greendale, stood with her, each holding a toddler against her hip while madly waving. Cecilia hoped that before long she’d be a mother again herself.

“I think I see Andrew,” Cathy cried. She screeched with happiness and waved one arm wildly above her head. Then she pointed his daddy out to her young son.

Three thousand sailors, dressed in white Navy uniforms, stood along the rail, feet apart, hands behind their backs, as they lined the perimeter of the flight deck. At this distance it was impossible for Cecilia to find Ian. The wind whipped at her face and she shouted and waved. Perhaps Ian would see her.

“Take Amanda,” Carol said, heaving her three-year-old daughter toward Cecilia.

She gladly held the toddler. There’d been a time when even looking at this little girl brought her pain. Allison, Ian’s and her baby daughter, was born the same week as Amanda. Had she lived, Allison, too, would’ve been three years old. But she’d died after clinging to life for only a few days. Her death had ripped the marriage apart. If not for a wise family court judge who ignored convention and denied their divorce, they might have ended up like so many other sad marriage statistics.

“Ian, over here,” Cecilia shouted, as she thrust one arm high above her head. “Do you see your daddy?” she asked Amanda.

The little girl’s arms were tight around Cecilia’s neck, and she buried her face in Cecilia’s shoulder.

“There’s Daddy, there’s Daddy,” Carol said, pointing to the aircraft carrier.

Amanda looked up then, smiling, and Carol reached for her daughter again.

An eternity passed before the gangplank was lowered and the sailors disembarked, carrying their duffel bags. Soon there were reunions everywhere. Cathy spotted Andrew and ran toward her husband, weeping with happiness.

Cecilia searched frantically for Ian. Then she saw him, tall and fit and tan, his dark hair visible beneath his white Navy cap. The breath left her lungs at the sight of him and she burst into tears of joy.

Not a minute later, Cecilia was caught up in her husband’s arms. They clung to each other, tears still clouding her eyes as Ian brought his mouth to hers.

Their kiss was slow, sensual and filled with six months of longing and need. By the time they’d finished, Cecilia was weak and breathless. Ian was home; her world was complete once again. The universe could have dissolved around her and she wouldn’t have cared.

“I’ve missed you like crazy,” she whispered, holding on to him, her fingers massaging the nape of his neck. There was so much to say, so much that was in her heart. None of it mattered right then, however. All she cared about was the feel of Ian’s arms around her and the knowledge that he was home and safe and hers, if only on loan from the United States Navy.

“Oh, sweetheart, this has been the longest six months of my life.” He continued to hold her tight against him. Cecilia closed her eyes and savored this moment she’d been waiting for.

Ian had three days of shore leave and Cecilia planned to make full use of every one of them. The days-and the nights. His return couldn’t have been better planned. As far as she could tell, these next few days were her fertile period.

With his duffel bag over his shoulder, Ian reached for her hand as they walked toward the parking area. Apparently she still wasn’t close enough to suit him because he wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her to his side. He smiled and his love washed over her like…like warm sunshine. That was all she could compare it to, the life-giving warmth so absent today. A light drizzle had begun and they walked a little faster, still gazing at each other.

“I love you,” she mouthed.

“I can hardly wait to show you how much I love you.” Then, as if the question had only now occurred to him, he asked, “You don’t have to go back to work, do you?”

She toyed with the idea of letting him worry, but couldn’t make herself do it. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Cox gave me all three days off.” She handed Ian the car keys, and he promptly unlocked their vehicle.

“I like your boss more and more.”

Cecilia did, too, especially now that Mr. and Mrs. Cox had remarried. The office became a much more relaxed place once the couple reunited. But it wasn’t the Coxes on Cecilia’s mind as Ian drove to their duplex. They met each other’s eyes frequently but didn’t speak much. Ten minutes later they were home.

“Did you bring back everything I sent you?” Cecilia asked in a husky voice when Ian parked in their assigned spot. They’d moved into military housing just before his most recent deployment, when a unit became available.

“That was very sadistic of you, wife,” Ian said, his eyebrows drawing together.

Had she not known him so well, Cecilia might think he hadn’t been amused by her small prank. The gleam in his eyes told her otherwise. For each of the last three weeks before he was due home, Cecilia had sent him one piece of a sheer negligee outfit. With the last piece, she’d included a note that promised she’d wear it for him when he got back. In his last e-mail to her, she could almost hear him panting.

“I hope you realize you’ve created a monster with that little trick of yours.”

“A monster I’m eager to tame,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss him.

“Oh, honey…” He broke off the kiss. “Let’s get inside-fast.”

“Aye, aye,” she said dreamily, saluting him.

Ian slid out the driver’s side and dashed around the front of the car. He opened the passenger door, helped her out and grabbed his duffel bag from the back. Giggling with excitement, they ran through the light rain toward their duplex. Ian was all thumbs as he struggled to unlock their door.

Cecilia had cleaned the place until it sparkled. The sheets on their bed were fresh and turned down, the bedroom shades drawn. After six months of separation she’d known they wouldn’t want to wait to make love.

As soon as they got inside, Ian dropped his duffel and reached out for her. Cecilia came willingly, throwing her arms around his neck. He hoisted her up and headed directly for the bedroom. The second they cleared the door, Ian kissed her again, his mouth open and moist, moving urgently against hers.

He released her and immediately started undressing.

“You want me to put on that black nightie for you?” she asked.

“Next time,” Ian said, his breathing shallow as he sat on the bed and quickly removed his shoes.

“One more thing…”

He gave her a questioning glance.

She knelt behind him on the bed and rested her chin on his bare shoulder. “I think there’s something you should know.”

“It can’t wait?”

“Well, it could, but I figure this is something you might want to know.”

“What?” he growled, turning toward her. He grabbed her around the waist, and his dark eyes bore into hers.

Cecilia smiled at her husband, smoothing her hands down his muscular shoulders, loving the feel of him. “I’m thinking this afternoon would be a wonderful time to make a baby.”

Ian’s eyes flared briefly. “I thought you were on the pill.”

Her smile broadened as she slowly shook her head. “Not anymore. I tossed them into the garbage six months ago.”

He frowned.

“With you at sea, there wasn’t any need for me to be on birth control. Besides-”

“You didn’t start again when you knew I was coming home?”

“Nope.”

“But-but you knew when I was due back.”

“I did…and I’ve been greatly anticipating your homecoming,” she purred.

“But, sweetheart, you never said a word! I don’t have anything to protect you from pregnancy.”

“Who says I want protection? What I want, sailor man,” she whispered, “is a baby.”

Ian went completely still.

“Ian?”

Her husband straightened, sitting on the side of the bed with his back to her. “Don’t you think this is something we should’ve discussed first?”

“We’re…we’re discussing it now.”

“At the last possible moment.”

“You don’t want a baby?”

Ian stood then and faced her. His shoulders were bare and his pants half unzipped. He rubbed his hand over his eyes as if her question had overwhelmed him. “I do want children, but not yet.”

“I thought-”

“It’s too soon, sweetheart.”

“It’s been three years.” Her desire for a child had grown progressively stronger in the months Ian had been at sea. It made sense to complete her schooling before getting pregnant again, but she’d done that and found a wonderful job. “I’m ready, Ian.”

His shoulders sagged. “I’m not…I can’t risk getting you pregnant.” He zipped his pants and picked up his shirt, yanking it on and shoving his arms into the sleeves. He fastened the buttons with record speed and scooped the car keys from the dresser.

Cecilia bit her lip. He was right; she should’ve mentioned it earlier. They’d communicated almost daily via e-mail, and phone calls whenever possible. There’d been ample opportunity to discuss the matter long before his arrival home.

Ian walked out of the bedroom, then turned back at the door. “Stay right there,” he said, pointing in her direction.

“Where are you going?”

His laugh was weak with impatience. “To the drugstore. Stay where you are, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

It felt as if the sun had disappeared behind a dark cloud.

Perhaps, deep down, Cecilia had known this would be Ian’s reaction. Her husband was afraid of another pregnancy, afraid of what it would do to her physically and what it might do to them as a couple.

Cecilia understood why he felt that way because she’d faced those same fears herself. She’d believed-or wanted to believe-that Ian, too, had moved past them. Apparently she’d been wrong.




Chapter Three


With a sense of joy and celebration, Maryellen Sherman carried the heavy cardboard box out of her rental house and set it in the trunk of her car. Soon she’d be living with Jon Bowman-married to him.

After all this time it hardly seemed possible. The barriers between them had been lowered. No longer could she disguise her love for him. Nor did she have to; they’d admitted their feelings for each other. The misunderstandings were over, pride and anger put aside.

Jon followed with a second box, which he set next to the first. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently letting her know how pleased he was that they were finally going to be together for good.

Katie, their nine-month-old daughter, slept contentedly in her crib as they brought another load out to the car, then hurried back inside the house. Maryellen realized they only had a few more minutes of peace before their daughter woke. Most of her belongings weren’t even packed.

“That’s it for now?” Jon asked, hands on hips as he glanced around the living room.

“I’ll have more later,” she promised. Maryellen had barely started packing. She’d lived in this rental house for almost twelve years and what she’d accumulated in that length of time was staggering. Sorting through clothes and books-what to keep, what to give away or throw out-had already taken weeks.

“How much more?” A note of weariness entered Jon’s voice.

“Lots. Do you want to pack up a few boxes now?” She was thinking she should probably fill up the back seat of her car before they caravanned to his home.

“What I want is to get you permanently in my house.” He sounded as impatient as she felt.

“I’m just as eager to get there.” She stepped into the compact kitchen and tried to figure out what else they should take with them this afternoon. Moving had never seemed so complicated or frustrating.

“Did you talk to your mother about a wedding date?”

“She thinks Memorial Day is perfect.” Maryellen held back a smile. She suspected her mother was just plain relieved that she and Jon had actually decided to tie the knot. Since they already had a child together, a ceremony was long past due, in Grace Sherman’s opinion.

“You’re sure you don’t mind not having a big fancy wedding?”

Maryellen shook her head. She opened the refrigerator and took out a tall pitcher of iced tea. She’d had all the glamour and glitter with her first marriage. The wedding had been lovely, the marriage itself anything but. She’d been young and naive; the divorce, a year later, had left her reeling emotionally for a long time.

Twelve years after that, when she’d met Jon, she’d still been frightened of falling in love again. In the beginning, she’d spurned him, insulted him and did everything she could think of to keep him out of her life. She felt mortified now when she thought back on everything she’d said and done.

Jon got two glasses from the cupboard and set them on the counter. “You’re not getting any bargain in the husband department, you know?”

The anger that flared in her was too hot to be denied. “If you ever say that to me again, I swear I’ll…I’ll make you suffer.”

A smile briefly softened Jon’s sharp features. He wasn’t a handsome man. He was tall and long-limbed with dark hair and intense brown eyes. And he was quite possibly the most talented photographer she’d ever encountered. His work hung in one of the best Seattle galleries and his name was fast gaining recognition.

“You know everything now,” he said and lowered his head, avoiding eye contact.

“You know everything about me, too,” she reminded him.

They both had their secrets, painful bits and pieces from their pasts. Now they had each other and, for the first time since her divorce, Maryellen felt she could heal the unresolved griefs of that marriage. She knew it was their pasts that had kept them apart. Despite everything, they’d been drawn toward each other from the very beginning, but the secrets they’d so desperately wanted to hide had almost torn them apart.

“You’re not the one with a prison record,” Jon muttered.

Clasping his hand, Maryellen raised it to her lips. “I consider it one of my life’s greatest blessings that I’ll be your wife. Until I met you I was in prison, too-a prison of my own making.” That might sound melodramatic, but she meant every word.

His smile was enough to brighten the kitchen, and she slipped her arms around his waist and buried her face against him. “The truth is, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

His arms tightened around her as she felt a sigh rumble through his chest. “It’s a little silly, don’t you think, you living here until after the wedding?”

“Perhaps, but I prefer to wait.” Maryellen had made too many mistakes, and with this marriage, she wanted to do everything right. When she came to him on their wedding night, she wanted it to be special.

“We have a child together, so it’s not as if…” His voice trailed off.

She tilted her head to look up at him, unsure how to say what was in her heart. “Do you mind terribly much?”

“I mind like hell, but I can wait if it means that much to you.”

She nodded and then kissed his jaw to let him know she appreciated his patience. Jon tangled his fingers in her dark hair as he pressed his mouth to hers. She tasted his passion and his desire, and her resolve weakened. This was all so new and exciting. Their physical need for each other had always been explosive, their hunger undeniable.

Suddenly Katie let out a wail from the back bedroom. Jon sighed and broke off the kiss.

By the time Maryellen reached Katie’s room, her daughter was standing up in her crib, both arms raised to her mother. Maryellen lifted her out and, after changing Katie’s diaper, carried her into the kitchen and placed her in the high chair. Her afternoon snack of juice and an arrowroot cracker was already waiting for her.

Awake now and in a good mood, Katie grabbed her juice cup and eagerly brought it to her mouth. She took a noisy slurp, then banged the cup against the plastic tray.

“Every time I look at her, I feel a sense of wonder,” Jon said and squatted down so he was eye-level with his daughter. “You’re Daddy’s little girl, aren’t you?”

Katie rewarded him with a broad four-tooth grin.

Jon automatically retrieved his camera from the counter and started snapping pictures.

“Jon.” Maryellen laughed, unable to stop herself. He was so predictable. When she’d first begun working with him at the Harbor Street Art Gallery, he’d asked her out a dozen times. Maryellen had refused all his invitations. She hadn’t wanted a man in her life. Later she’d succumbed-and soon afterward she’d discovered to her shock that she was pregnant. She’d made every effort to keep Jon out of her child’s life. And hers…

Like a lot of other women, she’d chosen to be a single mother. Not until Katie was born had she come to realize how much her daughter needed a father and how much she herself wanted and needed Jon’s help in rearing their child. Then it seemed too late. While Jon obviously loved their daughter, he wanted little or nothing to do with her.

When he’d finished taking photographs of Katie, Jon focused the camera on her. Before Maryellen could react he’d snapped several pictures. When he’d first turned his camera on her, early in their relationship, she’d felt both self-conscious and flattered; now she simply trusted him, never protesting when he aimed his Nikon at her, no matter how unexpected the moment might be. In many ways Jon was most comfortable behind the camera’s lens. It was through photography that he revealed his personality and emotions.

“I want you and Katie with me as soon as possible,” he said when he’d rewound the film and removed the cartridge.

“It won’t be long. Two weeks.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but seemed to change his mind. “We’ve waited this long, I don’t suppose another two weeks will kill me.”

“The anticipation is half the pleasure.”

He growled something she couldn’t decipher. She could guess, though, and it made her smile.

“I thought we could ask Pastor Flemming to officiate.” Maryellen didn’t attend church regularly, but her mother’s best friend, Olivia Lockhart, had recently married Jack Griffin, and the Methodist minister had performed the ceremony. She’d found it deeply moving.

“What about Judge Lockhart-or Griffin, I guess?”

“She’s using both names,” Maryellen said.

Jon nodded.

“I-I’d like a religious service.” Olivia was a longtime family friend, but Maryellen had already decided against a civil wedding. When she spoke her vows, she was committing herself, before God and the community, to love Jon for the rest of her life.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “You want to be married in a church? You’re sure?”

“Either at the Methodist Church or perhaps on your property, if that’s all right?” Jon had inherited the land from his grandfather and had built a beautiful two-story house there. The acreage overlooked Puget Sound, with Mount Rainier as a backdrop.

“It’s fine,” he said. “What about the reception?”

“At the house, too.” All at once she wondered if she was asking too much of him. “I don’t imagine we’ll have many guests, just family and a few friends. All we’d need to serve is wedding cake and champagne. If the weather cooperates, we could be married outside.” With the rhododendrons, many of which grew wild on the property, and the azaleas in bloom, the place would be stunning.

He nodded. “Perhaps we should serve a few hors d’oeuvres. I can easily prepare them a day or two before.”

“Jon…”

“A friend of mine can do the pictures, but I want to take the ones of you myself.”

Maryellen could tell he was warming to the subject of their wedding. “Can we put all this together in two weeks?” she asked.

Jon didn’t hesitate. “Of course we can.” At her delighted smile, he added, “Any other requests?”

She had one, but wasn’t sure how to ask.

“What?” The question was wary, as if he sensed her mood.

“The guest list…”

“How many?”

“It’s not the number. Mom and my sister and a few friends, but there are a couple of people I’d like to invite and I don’t know if you’d approve.”

Katie squealed and dropped the heavy-bottomed cup on her tray.

Jon kissed Maryellen’s temple. “You know there’s almost nothing I can refuse you. Who do you want to invite?”

She leaned into him, not wanting to see his face when she told him. “Your father and stepmother.” Jon had only recently revealed how his parents had chosen to protect his younger brother at his expense. They had lied on the witness stand and, as a result, Jon had been convicted of dealing drugs. He’d served seven years in prison. Not once in all those years or the years since had he spoken to either his father or his stepmother.

Jon tensed and slowly released Maryellen. “No. They are no longer part of my life. They cast me aside and-”

“You’re all they have left.” His brother had died a tragic death and Maryellen was convinced that his family regretted what they’d done, both in betraying Jon and in not forcing his brother to face the consequences of his crime.

Jon clasped her shoulders hard, almost hurting her with the fervor of his emotions. “We will never speak of this again, understand? I have no family other than you and Katie.” Taking a shuddery breath, he let her go.

She wanted to argue and longed to help heal the relationship between Jon and his family, but she could see he wasn’t ready. His parents had a granddaughter they knew nothing about. Surely that was an opportunity for new beginnings. Still, it wasn’t Maryellen’s place to step in, especially since Jon’s feelings on the subject were this adamant.

“What about a honeymoon?” Jon asked. “Nothing fancy, but someplace we can get away for a night or two.”

“You want a honeymoon?” Maryellen had been so involved with plans for her move and for the actual wedding, she hadn’t given a honeymoon any thought.

“Damn straight I want a honeymoon.”

“What about Thyme and Tide?” Bob and Peggy Beldon’s bed-and-breakfast was said to be the best in town.

Jon shook his head. “I already looked into that, but they aren’t taking guests until this murder is solved.”

“Oh…” That was a disappointment.

“How about a night in Seattle? Just the two of us. Your mother will take Katie, won’t she?”

Maryellen laughed softly. “In a heartbeat.”

“Seattle, then?”

Maryellen nodded.

“The honeymoon will be the very best part.” Jon kissed her nose, and Katie giggled as if she’d never seen anything funnier. “That amuses you, does it?” Jon said, smiling. “I guess I see your point.”

“We’re going to have a beautiful wedding,” Maryellen said with certainty. The prospect of it made this chaos of packing and moving seem worthwhile. Within a couple of weeks she’d be Jon’s wife. The three of them would be a family.




Chapter Four


Charlotte Jefferson dressed nervously for her court appearance. She’d spent many an afternoon in the Kitsap County Courthouse, proudly watching her only daughter officiate as a family court judge. In Charlotte’s opinion, her daughter was one of the wisest judges in the entire state. She got a thrill just watching Olivia mete out decisions, looking so official in her black robe.

This afternoon, however, Charlotte wouldn’t be in Olivia’s courtroom but in Judge Robson’s. She wouldn’t be alone, either. Together with several of her dearest friends, she’d be facing the consequences of civil disobedience. Still, serving time in the slammer, if it came to that, would be a small price to pay if her actions got the town council to finally bring a health clinic to Cedar Cove.

Laura, Bess and the others, including Ben Rhodes, were scheduled to meet her in the foyer outside Judge Robson’s courtroom at one o’clock.

Charlotte donned her best Sunday dress, complete with the Easter hat she’d purchased back in 1966. It was a broadbrimmed yellow one with a single white plume tucked in the satin band. If Judge Robson decided to incarcerate her and the others, she intended to walk into that jail cell as finely dressed as she would’ve been for any church service.

Olivia and Jack didn’t seem to think a prison term was likely, but Charlotte had heard rumors about Judge Robson. He was supposed to be much more by-the-book than Olivia, more of a hard-liner, and-again according to rumor-fond of making an example of the occasional miscreant.

The doorbell chimed and Harry, her cat, leapt down from the foot of her bed with an uncharacteristic display of energy and trotted into the living room. Since Olivia and Jack were out of town on their honeymoon, Charlotte wondered who it might be. Embarrassment had prevented her from asking Justine, her granddaughter, to accompany her. Olivia, of course, was well aware of the entire situation, unhappily so. But Charlotte refused to let the rest of her family and friends know, although it was impossible to keep such news completely quiet.

The peephole in the front door answered her question. Ben Rhodes stood on the other side, looking as dapper and debonair as ever. Despite her age, her heart did a tiny flipflop at the sight of him. After all these years as a widow, she’d assumed she was too old and set in her ways to fall in love, but Ben had shown her that even long-held assumptions could be wrong.

“Ben!” She unbolted the four dead bolt locks on her front door. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, although she was more than glad to see him. “We’re supposed to meet at the courthouse, remember?”

“I know, but I thought I’d escort my favorite gal into court. Are you ready?”

Charlotte straightened the skirt of her floral dress, feeling, for just a second, like the heroine in a 1950s musical. Ben made the whole mess seem like an adventure rather than a scandal-or worse. “How do I look?”

A smile lazily crossed Ben’s full mouth. At times it was difficult to forget that he wasn’t really Cesar Romero, the wonderful Cuban actor. In her opinion, Ben could have been the other man’s double. “You look lovely,” he told her.

But adventure or not, Charlotte couldn’t quite control her nervousness. “Oh, dear…I just don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”

Ben gently patted her hand. “I don’t believe the council wants that kind of negative publicity. I can just imagine what the Seattle newspapers would say about a town punishing a handful of senior citizens because we were demonstrating for health care.”

“Unlawful assembly,” Charlotte muttered under her breath. “I, for one, am willing to serve my time if that’s what it takes to wake this town up.” Just being with Ben strengthened her resolve. He made her feel brave, helped her stand up for her principles and act on the power of her convictions.

“I completely agree with you. However…” He hesitated and then forcefully expelled his breath. “I don’t think we need to worry about serving jail time. We’ll probably just be fined.”

Charlotte just couldn’t be sure. She was worried, especially considering Judge Robson’s reputation. Would she be viewed as the ringleader? She felt particularly anxious about her friends, who’d stood loyally by her when she defied Sheriff Davis.

“I’ve hired an attorney,” Ben informed her. Earlier Ben had agreed to represent them in court, but apparently he’d changed his mind.

Charlotte hadn’t wanted to involve lawyers. For one thing, they charged an arm and a leg, and for another, whatever lawyer Ben had chosen was bound to say something to Olivia when she returned. Charlotte wanted Olivia to know as little as possible, difficult though that would be. She’d hoped to hold down the gossip.

“Sharon Castor said she’d meet us at the courthouse.”

“Not Sharon Castor,” Charlotte cried. The attorney was frequently in Olivia’s courtroom. In fact, Sharon had recently represented Rosemary Cox in her divorce case. Charlotte had been present when her daughter had handed down one of her most controversial joint-custody decisions-a decision that, Charlotte believed, had led to the couple’s reconciliation.

“Oh, dear,” she said and sighed. “We might as well go.” She went into the bedroom for her overnight case, which contained her medications and night cream, and reached for her jacket. Just in case…The day was cool, and from everything she’d read, jail cells were notoriously drafty. She glanced around her bedroom one last time. Once she’d received her sentence, if the worst happened, she’d contact Justine and ask her to take care of Harry.

“Charlotte,” Ben said, shaking his head as she entered the living room. “You aren’t going to need a suitcase.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she countered grimly. “Suppose Judge Robson decides to make an example of me. I want to be ready.” She’d long been a believer in preparing for the worst-and hoping for the best.

Ben tried to argue with her, but she refused to change her mind. In the end, he placed her suitcase in the trunk of his car.

When they arrived at the courthouse, Helen, Laura and Bess were already gathered in the foyer outside Judge Robson’s courtroom. The three women rushed frantically to Charlotte’s side.

“I’m telling you right now, no one’s going to do a body search on me and live to tell about it,” Bess declared. She raised her hands in the familiar karate posture. Their entire Senior Center had taken self-defense lessons a few years back and Bess had faithfully attended every class.

“Have you been watching those Karate Kid videos again?” Charlotte muttered.

Bess glared at her. “I’m not joking, Charlotte.”

“Do you think the judge will let us bring our knitting needles into jail?” Laura asked. “If you want the truth, I have several Christmas projects I’d like to start and frankly I could make good use of the downtime.”

Just as Charlotte began to reply, Sharon Castor strolled up to Ben. “This is everyone?” she asked.

Ben nodded.

“Ben’s hired us legal representation,” Charlotte whispered to her friends. “He seems to think all the judge will do is fine us.”

“That’s all?” Laura sounded disappointed. “I was looking forward to prison.”

In contrast, Bess folded her hands together and raised her eyes toward heaven. “God bless Ben.”

Charlotte had to admit she was grateful not to have this entire matter fall upon her shoulders. She was the one who’d led her friends into trouble, and she felt responsible for whatever befell them as a result.

“We’re up next,” Sharon Castor announced. “Let’s go into the courtroom together.”

Charlotte adjusted her hat. Ben took her hand and the small party walked into the courtroom. Sharon was in the lead, with Bess, Helen and Laura marching right behind her, and Charlotte and Ben bringing up the rear.

To Charlotte’s astonishment, the courtroom was packed-standing room only. The first people to catch her attention were Bob and Peggy Beldon from the Thyme and Tide bed-and-breakfast.

“We’re with you, Charlotte,” Peggy called out.

Justine and her husband, Seth, were there, too. Seth held on to Leif, who was almost two years old. The toddler squirmed in his father’s arms, but stilled when he saw Charlotte. Justine waved, and Charlotte’s eyes blurred with tears, which she furiously blinked back. It seemed half the town had shown up to offer them support.

Enjoying their celebrity status, Bess and Helen waved as if they were prom queens walking in a Fourth of July parade.

“Did you know about this?” Charlotte asked, glancing up at Ben who stood a full head taller than her five foot three.

“Not at all,” he confessed, looking around. “Even Troy Davis is here.”

The sheriff who’d arrested them had turned up in court to support their efforts now. Charlotte had always been fond of Troy and was willing to forgive his error in judgment. Then again, the dear boy had no choice but to arrest them when they’d declined to break up their demonstration and disperse. He’d sworn to uphold the law, whether he agreed with it or not. His presence this afternoon made his personal feelings very clear.

“Roy and Corrie McAfee are here, too,” Ben whispered.

The McAfees were recent additions to the Cedar Cove community. Roy was a former Seattle police detective who’d retired in Cedar Cove and opened his own agency as a private investigator.

Grace Sherman stepped up to Charlotte and gave her a hug. “Olivia asked me to stop by this afternoon,” Grace said close to Charlotte’s ear. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I invited a few library patrons to give you their support.”

Charlotte squeezed Grace’s hand. Grace and Olivia had been best friends nearly their entire lives. How like Olivia to ask Grace to fill in for her this afternoon, since she couldn’t be in court herself. For a very good reason, mind you, one Charlotte fully approved of. Olivia and Jack were in Hawaii on their honeymoon.

The door at the back of the courtroom opened and in walked Maryellen Sherman, who found a seat next to her mother. Jon Bowman was with her, Katie balanced on his hip. Charlotte had taken a liking to the photographer and was pleased to hear those two would soon be married. High time, in her opinion, not that anyone had asked.

“The court will come to order,” the bailiff announced. “Judge Robson presiding.”

The judge emerged from his chambers and took his seat at the front of the courtroom.

Despite Ben’s reassurances, Charlotte’s pulse fluctuated wildly before taking up a steady beat again. This might not be pretty. Until she was asked to stand with her friends while the charges were being read, Charlotte didn’t realize how frightened she was. Between Bess practicing her karate moves and Laura looking forward to knitting in jail, Charlotte wasn’t sure what to expect.

Sharon Castor handled the situation in a most professional manner, Charlotte thought, her estimation of the attorney rising considerably.

“Your Honor,” she said, moving halfway to the bench. “Look at this group of law-breakers and tell me what you see.”

“Ms. Castor,” Judge Robson said. He continued to scan the charges. “Unlawful assembly, refusing to disband-”

“Yes, Your Honor, but my clients were making a statement-a statement they felt could only be made in this manner. They feel Cedar Cove needs a health clinic and I, for one, agree with them.”

“Then they should have approached the council.”

“Which I did, Your Honor.” Charlotte spoke before she could stop herself. “I beg your pardon, Judge Robson,” she said, feeling she couldn’t let her nerve fail her now. “Both Mr. Rhodes and I attended several council meetings, but to no avail. Mayor Benson said there are no funds to establish a health clinic, but-”

“This isn’t the time to discuss the merits of a medical clinic in Cedar Cove.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Charlotte murmured, properly chastised. Ben gave her an encouraging smile.

The prosecutor in the case seemed disinclined to send them to jail, Charlotte noted gratefully. He made a few comments and sat back down. Sharon Castor was on her feet again.

“You can save your breath, Ms. Castor. I’ve made my decision.”

The attorney slowly sat down.

“It appears to me that the five of you were trying to make public your case for a health clinic.”

Charlotte nodded and noticed the others did, too.

“Your plan has apparently worked. Half the town is here to support you. If anyone from council is in attendance, I sincerely hope they are taking detailed notes. I don’t see that anything useful will be served by fining five senior citizens who were on a mission to make Cedar Cove a better place. If I could have your word of honor that you will not assemble again without the necessary permit, then I’d be willing to dismiss all charges.”

Charlotte and the others were quick to comply.

As soon as the charges were dismissed, the courtroom erupted into applause. As they walked out, Charlotte and her friends were given a heroes’ reception. They were free, one and all.

Before they left the courthouse, Charlotte and Ben personally thanked Sharon and every person who’d come to their support. She was astonished their case had generated so much interest in the community. All this time Charlotte hadn’t spoken about her court date because she didn’t want to bother her family or friends with her problems. It was a strong affirmation of the community’s affection and respect that so many people were there today.

Ben drove her back to the house. “I had no idea all those people knew about this,” she told him as he held the car door for her.

“I didn’t, either,” Ben said.

“I suspect it was Grace who rallied everyone on our behalf.”

“The next time I’m in the library, I’m going to thank her all over again.”

“I will, too.” Charlotte had every intention of letting Olivia know what a wonderful job Grace had done.

“You are much loved in this community, Charlotte Jefferson,” Ben said as they mounted her front-porch steps. He carried her small suitcase, which he’d remembered to remove from the trunk.

“I am honored so many of my friends took time out of their busy days and came to court,” she murmured, still a little overwhelmed.

“There’s someone else you should include on the list of people who love you,” Ben said. He sat down on the porch swing while she rummaged in her large purse, searching for the house keys.

“And who would that be?” she asked, thinking she might have stuck the key chain in her overnight bag.

“That would be me.”

Charlotte froze. Ben had just declared his love-or so it seemed-and at the most ridiculous of times. She turned to face him. “Are you saying you’re in love with me, Ben Rhodes?”

“I am.” He looked at her directly, meeting her eyes. “The fact is, Charlotte, I’m wondering if you share my feelings.”

He didn’t know? He hadn’t guessed? This was indeed news. With her keys clenched in her hands, she triumphantly lifted them from her purse. “As a matter of fact, I’m head over heels in love with you and have been for quite a while,” she said bluntly. Having admitted her feelings, she blushed and quickly added, “Would you care for a glass of lemonade to celebrate our victory?” She opened the front door.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ben followed her into the house. “I just might steal a kiss while I’m at it.”

“And I just might let you,” Charlotte said with a smile.




Chapter Five


The alarm went off and Grace Sherman glanced at the clock radio on the bedside table. 7:00 a.m. Her one day of the work week to sleep in, and she’d forgotten to turn off the alarm the night before. With the new spring schedule, the library didn’t open until eleven on Wednesdays. But staying in bed now that she was awake seemed pointless. Sighing, she tossed aside the covers, then sat up and slipped her feet into slippers. She quickly made the bed.

Dan, her husband of more than thirty years, had been dead for some time, and she had the entire bed to herself, but she continued to sleep on one half, never disarranging the other. Old habits were persistent. Habits like waking early. Her daily routine gave her structure and comfort in a life that was increasingly out of control.

As little as three years ago, everything had seemed so normal. Her marriage wasn’t particularly happy, but it wasn’t unhappy, either. Her life was comfortable. Predictable. Then Dan had disappeared. For an entire year she’d lived in a state of suspension, not knowing what had happened to him, where he’d gone or who he was with. When she least expected it, just when she’d adjusted to the fact that he must be with someone else, Dan’s body was discovered. He’d died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

Grace felt she could deal with Dan’s death. At the time, he’d already been gone a year and she’d learned to live on her own and even found a certain solace in it. During those first dark, lonely months following his disappearance, she’d become acquainted with Cliff Harding, a horse rancher who lived in Olalla. Cliff had wanted a relationship, but he’d been patient, willing to wait until it felt right to her. Prior to her relationship with Cliff, the last time Grace had been out on a date was in high school. The one and only man in her life had been her husband. After she’d buried Dan, she’d finally agreed to see Cliff-but then she’d foundered and made a drastic mistake. Grace had gotten involved with another man via the Internet.

Chatting with Will Jefferson, her best friend’s older brother, had started out innocently enough. From as early as she could remember, Grace had had a crush on Will. That had never gone anywhere, and after high school Will had left for the East Coast, where he attended college and then stayed. He’d written her a letter after Dan’s death, and the correspondence had continued by e-mail. He’d flattered her ego, become her friend, and before she realized what was happening, she’d fallen in love with him, despite the fact that he was married.

She was embarrassed to admit how foolish she’d been. Grace knew from the beginning that Will had a wife. At first she’d pretended they were merely friends and that his marital status didn’t matter. But it did. When Will assured her he was divorcing his wife, she’d wanted to believe him, wanted to be part of his life badly enough to swallow his lies. Thankfully she’d learned the truth in time to save her dignity, but at a painful price.

As a result of her liaison with Will, she’d lost Cliff Harding’s love, friendship and respect. He no longer wanted anything to do with her and after months of neglect, months of misleading him-no, lying to him-she couldn’t blame Cliff at all. He’d said it would be better if they went their separate ways. Twice she’d gone to him. Twice she’d asked for another chance to prove herself. Twice he’d said no.

Grace had wanted to make amends and to recover what she’d lost with Cliff. She now recognized her “love” for Will as the infatuation it was, fueled by the clandestine nature of the relationship. And she recognized the genuineness of her feelings for Cliff.

She was sure Cliff still loved her, too. She saw it, felt it, but he sadly shook his head. Cliff’s wife had cheated on him for years and he refused to become trapped in another relationship where trust was compromised.

As far as Cliff was concerned, it was over between them.

With both Will and Cliff out of her life, Grace was lonely. Terribly lonely. Other than her work, some valued friends and her two daughters and grandchildren, she had few outside interests.

Dressed in her robe and slippers, she moved slowly into the kitchen, Buttercup, her golden retriever, at her heels. The dog ventured outside through the doggy door, and Grace picked up the local newspaper from the front porch and placed it on the kitchen table. While Buttercup did her business, Grace prepared a pot of coffee.

Her sense of loneliness was accentuated even more now that Olivia had remarried. Grace was happy for her dearest friend and yet she was afraid that Olivia wouldn’t have as much time for her anymore. She was ashamed of her Internet lapse with Olivia’s brother, and felt somewhat distanced from Olivia as a result.

“Well, Buttercup,” Grace murmured as the dog came back inside. “Shall we see what’s on the agenda for today?” She poured herself a cup of coffee while Buttercup lapped water from her bowl. A fund-raising committee meeting for the animal shelter was scheduled for that evening. One positive thing Grace had done for herself after the breakups with both Will and Cliff was to become a volunteer at the Cedar Cove Animal Shelter.

Two Saturdays a month she interviewed potential pet owners, walked and fed the animals and did whatever else she could to be useful. Janet Webb, who was in charge of fund-raising, had asked Grace to be on her committee and she’d gladly accepted.

Buttercup finished her drink and sat down at Grace’s feet while Grace sipped her coffee. As she mulled over her day, she scanned the headlines, then got dressed-khaki cotton trousers, a white tailored shirt, her favorite black blazer-and drove to the library.

Grace’s afternoon passed quickly. Following work, rather than race home before her meeting, Grace strolled along the waterfront. The marina was lovely, especially this time of year. In a couple of months, the Thursday-night Concerts on the Cove would start again. Cliff had often joined her for the concerts. They’d buy dinner and sit on the grass…Grace shook her head in an effort to dispel her memories of Cliff. He’d insisted it was over and she had no choice but to accept his decision.

Before she left for the meeting, Grace went to the Potbelly Deli where she bought a sandwich, eating it at a small table by herself. Then she drove out to the shelter.

Janet Webb and the other committee members had already arrived. “I’m so glad you’re on our committee,” Janet said and introduced Grace to Mary Sanchez and Margaret White, both long-standing volunteers. Janet and Margaret were about the same age as Grace, but Mary was in her mid-thirties.

“We’re looking for something that’ll bring the entire community together,” Janet explained as Grace took a seat at the table in the conference room. “For the last few years we’ve done the usual bake sales and car washes.”

“We had a dog wash that one year,” Margaret reminded her.

“Yes, and while those fund-raising events have been successful, they’ve been fairly small-scale. I’d like something with a little more…punch.”

“What about a bachelor auction?” Mary suggested excitedly. It was clear she’d been thinking about the idea for quite some time and was nearly out of her chair with enthusiasm. “I’ve read about them and I think it’s a wonderful idea, don’t you?”

Janet hesitated. “Maybe, but I’m married and so are a lot of other women in town.”

“Yes, but I’m not and, well, I know I’d certainly be willing to pay for the pleasure of having a handsome man at my disposal for an entire evening.” She glanced eagerly toward Grace. “I’ll bet other single women would, too.”

Grace wasn’t so sure, but she hated to squelch Mary’s enthusiasm. “Has anyone else noticed that there seem to be more animals that need adoption lately?” she asked. “Especially dogs…” The ideas started to churn in her mind. “What about a dog auction-or perhaps the shelter could do that along with the bachelors?”

“A dog and bachelor auction?”

“Why not?” Grace asked. “We could pair up the dogs with the bachelors.”

Janet seemed to be considering the idea. “That sounds promising.”

“The dog would be auctioned off first, and then the bachelor. Or the other way around.”

“The bachelors would need to be a variety of ages, right?” Mary asked.

“Of course,” Janet said, smiling ever so slightly.

Grace could tell that she was warming to the idea.

“Be sure and ask Cliff Harding to participate,” Margaret White said, leaning closer to the table. “I think he’s the most adorable man I’ve seen in ages, and he’s single, too.”

“Who?” Janet asked, frowning.

“Cliff Harding,” Margaret repeated. “You obviously haven’t noticed him around town, but trust me, I have. He’s a hunk.”

Mary looked across the table at Grace. “You were going out with him for a while, weren’t you?”

It was all Grace could do to nod. Cliff was a natural choice for the bachelor auction. Her enthusiasm for the project did a nosedive, but she didn’t dare show her feelings.

“Can you think of anyone else who’d agree to be auctioned off for charity?” Janet asked.

“Bruce Peyton,” Grace suggested with a shrug. “He’s a widower who brings his daughter into the library once a week.”

“Ah, yes,” Mary said. “I remember when his wife was killed in an automobile accident. When was that, anyway?”

“It must’ve been two or three years ago,” Margaret replied. “I knew her mother, Sandy. Tragic, tragic accident. I think Stephanie’s death was what killed her. Sandy was gone within a year-cancer.”

Grace felt terrible for the little girl who’d lost both her mother and grandmother within such a short period. She didn’t know Bruce well, but he seemed loving and protective of his daughter. She didn’t envy him the task of raising the little girl on his own.

“Ben Rhodes has stirred a few hearts down at the Senior Center,” Grace said, wondering how Charlotte would feel about this.

Mary nodded in approval. “Ben’s an excellent choice and, seeing that he’s retired Navy, he just might be able to get us a few young seamen who’d be willing to do a good deed for charity.”

“That’s a great idea.” Janet seemed absolutely delighted now. She quickly wrote down the names on the pad. “Barry Stokes is always good about donating his time and talent to charity auctions.”

Barry was the local auctioneer whose big red barn and auction headquarters could be seen from the highway.

“This is going to be just great,” Mary burbled.

“It’s certainly better than another bake sale.”

“Why don’t we talk to Seth and Justine Gunderson about letting us use The Lighthouse for the event?” Grace said.

“Perfect,” Mary agreed. “We want to make this classy. The restaurant’s just the right size, too.”

Janet picked up a pen and pad and started writing down suggestions and assignments. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do to get The Lighthouse. I’ll get in touch with Barry, too.” Janet made a second notation for herself. “Mary and Margaret, why don’t you two make up a list of potential bachelors?”

The women nodded simultaneously.

Janet pointed her pen in Grace’s direction. “How about if you work on publicizing the event-posters, newspaper ads, radio and the like?”

Grace nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll ask for volunteers to work the auction at the next board meeting.” Janet looked pleased with herself. “I think we’re onto something really wonderful this year.”

The four women continued to discuss the event and it was after eight before they ended the meeting. Margaret White walked out to the parking lot with Grace. “I don’t know about anyone else but I’d write a blank check to spend an evening with Cliff Harding.”

Grace forced a smile.

“I nearly pass out every time he comes to the vet’s office.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “See you next week,” she said. She climbed into her car and drove off.

Grace slid into her own vehicle and braced her hands against the steering wheel. The thought of Cliff with another woman made her feel a regret so strong that for a moment she was nearly sick to her stomach. She couldn’t bear it and at the same time realized she had to.

Worst of all, she was to blame for her own unhappiness.




Chapter Six


Peggy put the finishing touches on the dinner table as Bob straightened up the family room. He was pleased Peggy had chosen to serve their guests in the kitchen rather than the formal dining room. Jack and Olivia, who were back from their honeymoon, were coming for dinner, and he considered Jack as much family as friend. Olivia now, too. In some ways, however, Jack was even closer than family.

Although Bob had twenty-one years of sobriety behind him, he knew he was a single drink away from insanity. He still took it one day at a time and routinely attended AA meetings. It was through Alcoholics Anonymous that he’d met Jack Griffin. Bob and Peggy had been living in the Spokane area when Jack approached Bob and asked him to be his AA sponsor. That was the beginning of their strong friendship.

After Bob and Peggy returned to Cedar Cove and purchased this house, they’d invited Jack to visit. He’d fallen in love with the small-town community. When the editor’s job opened up at The Cedar Cove Chronicle, Jack-a longtime newsman-had applied and been offered the position. Soon after he moved to town, he met Judge Olivia Lockhart. It’d taken some mighty fast talking on Jack’s part, but he’d finally convinced her to marry him. Bob was proud to have stood up as Jack’s best man.

“Honey, would you fill the water glasses?” Peggy asked as she scurried about the kitchen.

“Sure thing.” His wife was a marvel, Bob thought as he dumped ice cubes into the pitcher. Peggy was a master gardener, homemaker and cook extraordinaire. The scent of her chicken cordon bleu wafted through the kitchen and made his mouth water. He knew she’d prepared his favorite broccoli salad and a special mashed-potato casserole as part of their meal. Peggy had made a habit of cooking all his favorite dishes since Sheriff Davis’s last visit-as if she was determined to make his last days on earth happy ones. Not that she’d admit it, he realized, but Bob knew she was worried and he humored her.

Much of the success of Thyme and Tide was due to Peggy’s skill at making people feel welcome and comfortable. Bob didn’t discount his own talents. He was a reasonably adequate handyman, but it was Peggy who held everything together, including his life.

She was busy at the sink-doing what, he could only guess. He finished his assigned duty, set the pitcher aside and came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

“Bob,” she protested as he spread kisses down the side of her neck. “We have guests due any minute.”

“Hmm.”

“They’re the ones on the honeymoon, not us.”

“Does that mean you’re not interested in a little hankypanky?”

“Bob Beldon!”

“Is that a yes, you are, or a no, you’re not?”

“It’s a yes, but could you kindly wait until after our guests leave?” She feigned impatience, but Bob knew her far too well. Their marriage had gone through several stages, some good and some difficult, but through it all their love life had remained active. Peggy’s talents extended into the bedroom and for that, Bob was most appreciative.

The doorbell chimed and Bob released his wife. Peggy made a show of tucking in her blouse. This was the first week they’d been without overnight guests, and the absence of people in the house had taken some getting used to. Bob enjoyed it for a change, but he knew that before long they’d both grow bored.

“Do you want me to get that?” Peggy asked.

“No, I will.”

Peggy sighed, and Bob sensed that she was nervous. She didn’t know Olivia well, and he could tell that Peggy sincerely hoped they’d all be friends. She hadn’t worked quite this hard to impress someone in a very long while. Dinner in the kitchen would be more intimate, more casual, and definitely suited Jack’s personality. Olivia’s, too, he hoped…

Jack and Olivia Griffin stood at the front door, looking relaxed and very much in love. Jack had his arm around Olivia’s waist as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from her.

“Welcome back,” Bob said, stepping aside to let them in. “You both look fabulous.”

“We are fabulous,” Jack said, smiling down at Olivia.

Bob had to admit they made an interesting couple. Jack was by far the more easygoing of the two. Olivia held an important position in the community, so perhaps it was only natural that she’d be more formal. Yet they were good together, good for each other in the same way he and Peggy were.

“Welcome,” Peggy said as she walked into the living room. “I hope you had a wonderful honeymoon.” Jack came forward to kiss her cheek.

“We did,” Olivia told her, smiling. “Unfortunately, we have to be back at work first thing in the morning.”

“I’ve got to get out the Friday edition of the paper,” Jack said, “and Olivia’s due in court.”

“I was lucky to get as much time off as I did,” she added.

Peggy hung Olivia’s jacket in the hall closet. Jack shrugged off his raincoat and threw it over the back of a chair.

“Are we early?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“Not at all, your timing’s perfect.” Peggy scooped up his coat and quickly brought it to the closet. “I’ve got just a few things to do and then dinner will be on the table.”

“How can I help?” Olivia asked as she followed Peggy into the kitchen.

“Most everything’s finished, but you can keep me company.”

Bob was grateful for a few minutes alone with his friend. Rather than lead Jack into the family room, he stayed in the formal living room. The last time he’d sat here had been with Roy McAfee and Sheriff Davis. That was the day he’d met Hannah Russell, the daughter of the man who’d died in his home. The daughter of a long-forgotten friend. Bob didn’t want to think about any of it, but he couldn’t ignore the dead man, either.

“You’re looking well,” Bob said. He sat in the wingback chair by the fireplace.

Jack claimed its twin, which was angled on the other side of the fireplace. “I don’t know why Olivia waited so long to marry me. The woman’s crazy about me, you know.” He chuckled at his own remark.

“I suppose you think Peggy and I invited you to dinner because of your charming personality.”

“Any other reason I should hear about?”

Bob went very still. He hadn’t meant to introduce the subject quite so soon, but Jack had given him the perfect opportunity. “Listen, Jack, you’re the best friend I’ve got. You know that, right?”

The smile faded from Jack’s eyes at the seriousness in Bob’s tone. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I need a favor.”

Jack nodded. “Anything.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Bob spoke quietly and hoped his gratitude was evident.

“Does this have anything to do with Maxwell Russell?”

“Yes.”

“Anything new?”

“Not really, but Troy Davis stopped by for a visit last week, and he thinks I might be in…some kind of danger.”

Jack uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “What kind of danger?”

“He wasn’t entirely sure-no one is-but with two of the four-man squad dead, it’s a puzzle. Someone murdered Max. That much has been uncovered. Dan’s dead, too, and although he committed suicide, I wonder about the timing. There has to be some connection between these two deaths.”

“What about the fourth man?”

“I can’t say, but when Peggy was out of earshot Troy let me know that he’s warned Samuels to be careful. There are too many unanswered questions.”

Jack frowned. “What did he suggest you do?”

“He thought it might be a good idea if Peggy and I went on an extended vacation.”

Jack’s frown grew deeper. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

Bob sat back in his chair and attempted to look as if he wasn’t intimidated by his situation. He was, though, and he hoped his acting skills were up to par. He figured he’d played enough roles in the community theater to make a passable showing. “I refuse to run away and hide. If anyone out there wants me dead, then all I can say is let him come and get me.”

“I don’t suppose Davis mentioned you have a stupid attitude?” Jack’s scowl darkened his face.

“He might’ve suggested something along those lines.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment. “What does Peggy think about all this?”

Bob didn’t want to discuss that. “She has her opinion and I have mine. I did agree not to take guests until this is settled. It hurts financially, but we’ll survive.”

“One day at a time?”

“Let go and let God,” Bob said, quoting a well-known AA saying.

“What can I do?” Jack asked.

“For now, nothing, but if something should happen to me…”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

Bob wasn’t prepared to argue, but for his own peace of mind, he needed reassurance. He held up his hand. “I don’t know what the future holds, Jack. If what Davis thinks is true, I could turn up dead, the same as Max.”

“But-”

“There are a lot of things in this world that can’t be forgotten or forgiven.” Bob lived with plenty of regrets but none greater than his unwitting participation in a massacre during the Vietnam War.

“What do you need me to do?” Jack asked.

“I want you to look after Peggy for me.” He worried about his children, too. Both Hollie and Marc lived in the Spokane area. Peggy kept in close touch with both of them, and he talked to his son and daughter once a week.

“You know I’ll do whatever I can,” Jack promised.

If he were to die, Bob couldn’t see either of his children moving to Cedar Cove. They loved their mother but they had lives of their own.

He reached inside his pocket and pulled out two envelopes. “I’ve written each of my kids a letter. If the worst happens, I want you to give them these.”

Jack accepted the envelopes and nodded. “Consider it done.”

Bob glanced up just in time to see Peggy and Olivia walk into the living room. “Why are you two sitting here looking so glum? Dinner’s ready.”

“Dinner.” Bob bolted to his feet. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I’m ready anytime,” Jack said.

Bob felt better than he had in days. No matter what happened, he could rest easy now.




Chapter Seven


Maryellen felt overwhelmed by everything she needed to do before the wedding. The last two weeks had passed in a whirlwind of activity and joyous craziness.

“Just look at these nails,” Rachel, her nail tech, said as she picked up a cotton ball to remove the old polish. “What have you been up to?”

“Moving,” Maryellen muttered, knowing that would explain everything. Her rental house was completely empty now and her belongings were all at Jon’s place, but almost everything remained in boxes. With the wedding preparations demanding all her extra time, she had yet to unpack.

“So when’s the big day?”

“Monday,” Maryellen said.

“Memorial Day?”

She nodded.

“That’s one way to help your husband keep track of your anniversary,” Rachel said with a laugh. Apparently she’d forgotten that the actual date changed from year to year. “In my case, however, the first thing I’ve got to do is find a husband.” The exasperation in her sigh said it all. For as long as Maryellen could remember, Rachel had wanted to get married. All the women at Get Nailed were single and, during each appointment, Maryellen could count on the main topic of conversation revolving around the lack of decent husband material in Cedar Cove.

“Did you hear the big news?” Rachel asked, rubbing furiously at the old polish.

Maryellen shook her head.

“The animal shelter’s holding a dog and bachelor auction.”

“With some men, it’s one and the same,” Terri shouted from the other side of the room. “The men I’ve dated have been real dogs.” She laughed at her own joke, then returned her attention to her client.

Even before Maryellen’s engagement, such an event would never have interested her, but she knew the girls at Get Nailed would leap at the opportunity to meet eligible men.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard about the auction. Everyone in town’s talking about it.”

“Just as long as everyone knows Jon is out of circulation,” Maryellen teased.

“Honey, from the moment Jon Bowman looked at you, he was a goner.”

Maryellen grinned. At one point-during her avoidance phase-she’d attempted to match Jon up with one of the nail techs. Her plan had backfired and as a result, Maryellen had come to realize how strong the attraction between them was. Then, a few months ago, she’d managed to convince herself that Jon was involved with someone else. The thought of him with another woman had nearly destroyed her. Only later did she learn that he was completely committed to her and Katie.

“Are you excited about the wedding?”

Right now, Maryellen was too tired to be excited. With their jobs, they’d both been working twenty-hour days in an effort to have the house and yard ready for the ceremony. Jon had spent countless hours doing yardwork and planning the reception. Thankfully the guest list was small, under thirty.

Friday was his last day at The Lighthouse restaurant, where he worked nights as a chef. He was ready to make the transition and dedicate all his time to photography. Maryellen would continue working at the art gallery until the end of the year-or until she became pregnant again. After that, she’d serve as Jon’s agent, marketing his pictures and negotiating with galleries around the country.

The thought of a second baby made her feel weak with longing. They’d managed to avoid physical lovemaking, but it had been a strain on both of them. Still, she felt that waiting until they were married was the right decision-for emotional reasons rather than rational ones-although she’d never guessed it would be this difficult.

As soon as Rachel was finished with her nails, Maryellen drove to her mother’s house to pick up Katie.

“Leave her with me,” Grace insisted. “You’ve got enough on your mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“I love having her.”

Maryellen and Katie were staying with Grace for the next two nights. “Then I think I should drive out to Jon’s and see what I can do to help him get things ready.”

“You go ahead.”

Maryellen left, grateful her mother had been so understanding. Just as she suspected, Jon was working in the yard, spreading beauty bark around the base of the rhododendrons and azaleas. Both were in full bloom and shockingly vibrant in color. Jon had counted over a hundred blooming rhododendrons on his property. Of them all, Maryellen’s favorites were the bright red ones.

When she pulled in the long gravel driveway, Jon walked over to the car and opened her door. “I came to help,” she said and although she was tempted, she resisted wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him.

“I thought you were getting your nails done?”

“I already did.” She held out her hands for his inspection. The pale rose polish sparkled in the sunlight. “What can I do?”

“Nothing out here. I wouldn’t want you to risk damaging one of those fingernails.” He leaned on the shovel. “Why don’t you unpack? I’ve got boxes shoved in every conceivable corner.”

“Out of sight, out of mind?”

“Not exactly,” he said with a chuckle.

Maryellen took his advice and decided to start in the master bedroom. The kitchen could wait; besides, that area was Jon’s domain. He was the cook in the family, although she was willing to do her share of meal preparation. Marriage to her was a partnership, and Maryellen had every intention of being a good wife. If that meant chopping pounds of onions, well…she’d do it. In fact, she’d do anything to make her marriage as strong and healthy as possible.

She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, then paused in the doorway, hands on her hips, as she surveyed the room where she’d soon be sleeping. The photograph Jon had taken of her months earlier hung on the wall by the bed. It showed her in a rocking chair nursing Katie when their daughter was a newborn. He’d managed to capture the wonder and awe and love she felt, holding this tiny being in her arms. She’d hardly been conscious of Jon’s presence at the time, so absorbed was she by Katie.

It gave her immeasurable joy to place her clothes in the closet next to Jon’s. She carefully pushed his shirts aside and her hand lingered there. In two days’ time, she would be Jon Bowman’s wife. She felt a renewed sense of anticipation-and a surge of love for the man who’d fathered her child.

She opened the dresser drawers and started rearranging his things and making room for her own. That was when she found the letters. Tucked in with old receipts, maps and loose change were a number of envelopes. Most had been opened but a few remained sealed. Curiosity got the better of her and she pulled out a sheet, but then she paused. She refused to begin her marriage with an act of deception-snooping through letters that were addressed to Jon, not to her. Unsure what to do, she stacked them in a neat pile and set them to one side.

She heard the front door open and Jon calling up the stairs. “I’m ready for a break. How about you?”

She walked out of the bedroom to stand at the railing and looked down. “Be with you in a minute. I’m just finishing up here.”

“Okay.”

“I found a bunch of letters in a drawer. Is there any place you want me to put them?”

He frowned, hesitated and then shrugged. “Toss ’em.”

“In the garbage?”

Nodding, he turned and walked into the kitchen.

“Who are they from?”

“No one important,” he shouted back.

“An old girlfriend?” she pressed.

He snickered loudly enough for her to hear him all the way up the stairs. “Hardly. Just get rid of the whole bunch.”

Maryellen dumped the letters into the plastic garbage bag, but then she couldn’t resist. She plucked out the top one and looked at the return address. It was from the small coastal town of Seal Beach, Oregon. Years ago Maryellen had driven through it along Highway 1. She’d stopped for gas and lunch, and for some reason she’d never forgotten the town.

“Who do you know in Seal Beach?” she called down, reluctant to drop the matter. She began to descend the stairs, still clutching the letters.

Jon stepped out of the kitchen. “You aren’t going to let this rest, are you?”

She slid her hand down the smooth oak banister as she walked. “I can’t help being curious. You’d feel the same if it was me.”

Jon shook his head, scowling. “I should’ve ditched those a long time ago. They’re from my parents.”

“Some of them haven’t even been opened.”

He stared up at her. “My father and stepmother are out of my life, Maryellen. They made their choice and I made mine. I want nothing more to do with either of them. Now, please just get rid of those letters, and don’t mention them again.”

“But-”

“Maryellen, please.”

“If you insist.” And this time she buried the letters in the bottom of the bag.

An hour later, her clothes hung next to Jon’s in the big closet. The dresser drawers were full. At first glance it seemed as if she’d always lived with Jon, always been part of his home and his life. That gave her a feeling of contentment and somehow made their coming marriage even more real.

They ate dinner together, and sipped wine on the upstairs balcony that overlooked the water. Completely at ease, Maryellen laid her head against his shoulder. Jon’s arm was around her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The moment was so tranquil, she didn’t immediately realize Jon had fallen asleep.

It was just as well. She needed to get back to her mother’s house, spend some time with Katie. By now her daughter would be cranky, and Maryellen didn’t want to take advantage of her mother’s generosity.

Kissing Jon on the cheek, she slipped out of his arms and sneaked down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. She hated to leave, but in two days she’d be with Jon forever…

Just as she’d predicted, Katie was difficult and unreasonable that night, and her mother was exhausted. As soon as Maryellen reached for Katie, the baby settled against her shoulder, put her thumb in her mouth and promptly fell asleep. Maryellen rocked her for a few minutes, gently rubbing Katie’s back.

“I can’t believe one tiny baby could have so much energy.” Grace sat down in her favorite chair, head thrown back, eyes closed. Opening them again, she said, “You look at peace.”

“I am at peace, and so much in love.”

Grace’s eyes grew moist. “I hope you’ll always be as happy as you are now.”

Maryellen lowered her gaze.

Her mother understood her perfectly. “What is it?”

“Jon. I found a stack of letters, several of which he hadn’t even bothered to open.”

“Letters? From whom?”

“His parents. I badly wanted to read them but I didn’t. Jon told me to throw them out.” Her mother knew about Jon’s situation and the way his parents had betrayed him.

“Did you?”

Maryellen nodded. “I didn’t want to start our marriage off by being dishonest.”

“It seems to me that if Jon has no feelings for his family, he wouldn’t have saved those letters.”

“I felt the same thing.” Maryellen gnawed on her lower lip. “I didn’t need to read them to know what they said. Jon’s their only family now and they want his forgiveness. They want their son back.”

“They have a granddaughter they don’t know anything about.”

“Yes…”

“And you, Maryellen. They’ll be your in-laws.”

It hurt her to think of Jon rejecting his parents’ attempts at reconciliation-less for their sake than for his. Jon would never be free of the past until he could find a way to forgive his parents.

Her mother seemed deep in thought. “I couldn’t bear the idea of anyone keeping me from my grandchildren,” she said softly.

That was another point she should consider. Jon might not want anything to do with his family, but his parents had a right to know about Katie. And Katie had a right to know her grandparents.

That evening, Maryellen wrote Jon’s family. The letter was brief. She’d memorized the post office box number and the zip code, and that was all she needed. She included a picture of Katie and a short message about how well Jon’s career was going. Wanting to be sensitive to her husband’s feelings, she stated that it would be best if they didn’t contact her. She did promise, however, to send them occasional photographs of their granddaughter.

The next morning as Maryellen drove to the post office, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. On the one hand, she knew Jon would disapprove; on the other, she felt his parents deserved some compassion. And what about Katie? What about her future happiness?

The letter slid into the mailbox slot, and whether she was right or wrong remained undecided. Either way, it was too late.




Chapter Eight


The Dog and Bachelor Auction had already generated a lot of interest in Cedar Cove. Grace Sherman displayed a large notice in the library and Janet had asked her to deliver posters to the businesses around town. Thursday afternoon, the first week of June, Grace dedicated her lunch hour to making sure the community had all the relevant details.

The Lighthouse restaurant was her first stop. She waited at the hostess’s desk for the young woman to return from seating a couple. Staring out the large windows she admired the view of the water and the Bremerton shipyard on the other side of the cove. Several people were in line ahead of her, but Grace wasn’t really in a rush. She needed to speak to either Seth or Justine to confirm that she could place the large poster in the front window and to finalize some details concerning the special menu being created for the event. For now, she was simply enjoying the vista of sea and vibrant blue sky, with the snow-capped Olympic Mountains in the background. Seth and Justine had done an impressive job of reflecting their surroundings in the architecture and decor of the restaurant.

The door opened behind her, but Grace was so absorbed in the view that she didn’t pay attention.

“Hello, Grace.”

Her heart leapt into her throat as she turned to greet Cliff Harding. “Hello, Cliff.” He was as attractive as ever, with his broad shoulders and dark eyes. He wore jeans and a tan jacket with one button fastened. His cowboy hat rested slightly forward, shading his face.

They stared at each other as if neither knew what else to say. Grace wanted to talk, but her tongue felt as if it had grown twice its normal size and refused to cooperate. It’d been weeks since she’d last seen Cliff. In that time she’d grown accustomed to being alone. Accustomed to filling her days and nights with charity projects and anything that kept her mind off what she’d done to destroy their relationship.

“You’re looking well,” he said after an awkward moment.

“You, too.”

He smiled regretfully. “So Maryellen and Jon were married last weekend.”

Moisture found its way into Grace’s mouth and she nodded. “Yes. The ceremony was lovely. They held the wedding on Jon’s property. My daughter was a beautiful bride.” These slightly stilted, staccato sentences were the best she could do.

“I wish them both my very best.”

Grace knew he did. “Katie didn’t make a sound the entire time.”

Cliff slid his gaze past her. “Please thank Maryellen for the invitation.”

Grace didn’t realize her daughter had sent him one.

He removed his hat and held it with both hands. “I didn’t attend for…obvious reasons.”

Grace looked away.

“I didn’t want to do anything to make you feel ill-at-ease,” he explained. “This was a happy day for you, as well as for Maryellen and Jon. I thought it might be uncomfortable for us both if I showed up.”

He was right, of course. “That was thoughtful of you,” she murmured.

The silence stretched between them. Then, as if she’d suddenly remembered the reason she was at The Lighthouse, she said brightly, perhaps too brightly, “I understand you’re going to be part of the Dog and Bachelor Auction.”

Cliff shifted his weight. “I was approached but I declined.”

“Why?” His name had been the first one mentioned. She wondered how long it would be before she could tolerate the thought of Cliff with another woman. Not anytime soon. The ache in the pit of her stomach told her that.

Was it her imagination or did his color heighten at her question? “I didn’t see much point in making a bigger fool of myself than I normally do.”

“But Cliff, it’s for charity.”

He shook his head, and privately Grace was pleased but she recognized that her response was purely selfish.

“I figured the committee would get higher bids on a younger man. I recommended Cal Washburn.”

“Your trainer?” Grace had met Cliff’s trainer on a couple of occasions and liked him, although he was an intense man who seemed to see straight through her. It was unsettling. As she recalled, he spoke with a slight stutter.

Cliff’s mouth moved in the barest hint of a smile. “Cal wasn’t exactly keen on the idea.”

“But he’s willing to volunteer?”

“He didn’t say, but he’s considering it.”

“For someone who loves animals as much as you do…”

The smile that had just begun now appeared full force. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty so I’ll agree to this, Grace Sherman?”

Grace smiled, too. “Shamelessly.”

He shook his head again. “I’m too old.”

“Your name came up right away. Apparently you’ve stirred up more interest than you realized.”

“I suppose you were the one who threw my name in the hat?”

Cliff Harding was the last man she’d recommend, and all because of her own self-interest. “It wasn’t me.” She didn’t like admitting it. “Margaret White was the one who suggested you.”

He shrugged as if he didn’t know the name.

“She works at the vet’s office.”

He gestured in a way that implied he might recognize her but he wasn’t sure. “I’ve probably seen her then.”

Silence again.

Grace couldn’t imagine what was taking the hostess so long. She glanced into the dining areas, but the woman seemed to have disappeared after seating the two parties ahead of her.

“Olivia and Jack are home,” she said abruptly, trying to make conversation. The silence was unbearable. She couldn’t stand next to this man without being reminded of the high price her Internet indiscretion had cost her.

“So I understand.”

Grace hadn’t seen Olivia so happy, not in years. At the same time, she seemed to be having a little trouble adjusting to married life. A couple of recent phone calls had left Grace feeling there was some stress between Olivia and Jack, although Olivia hadn’t been complaining.

“From what I hear, her ex has been visiting Cedar Cove quite a bit.”

Grace froze. When Stan found out that Olivia had decided to marry Jack, he’d come to Grace, maudlin and sorry for himself. In a moment of loneliness, she’d agreed to go to dinner with him. It’d been another instance of bad judgment on her part. The last thing she wanted now was for Cliff to learn about that.

“I think Stan knows he made a mistake,” Grace said tentatively. If Cliff knew about her dinner with Stan, he wasn’t letting on. “People do that-make mistakes they later regret.” Her eyes met his, pleading with him to realize how sorry she was. Silently she implored his forgiveness.

Cliff avoided eye contact. “Stan learned that his regrets came too late, didn’t he?”

Cliff was telling Grace hers had, too.

The terrible silence was back.

“Charlotte told me what you did for her and her friends,” Cliff said next, as if he couldn’t bear the silence either.

Grace was furious every time she thought about Troy Davis arresting Charlotte and her group of elderly protestors. For heaven’s sake, Ben Rhodes was a retired admiral! Troy should be ashamed of himself.

“Charlotte was trying to better our community. I felt the least we could do was support her efforts.”

Cliff tried to hide his amusement by staring down at the carpet.

“What’s so funny?”

“You,” he said, raising his eyes. That little smile quivered on his mouth. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

She was on his bad side, though, and the reminder instantly sobered her.

“Charlotte was thrilled with the community support and she credits you with that.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You spread the word.”

Grace gave a careless shrug. “It wasn’t much,” she said again. She hadn’t phoned Cliff, couldn’t bring herself to do it, but in retrospect she wished she had.

As if reading her thoughts, he said. “I would’ve been there had I known.”

The hostess reappeared just then. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” She automatically reached for two menus.

Cliff looked to Grace and she saw the indecision in his eyes. It would mean the world to her if he asked her to join him for lunch. She held his gaze as long as she dared.

He stiffened, and his resolve had obviously returned. “Table for one,” he said and walked away from Grace.




Chapter Nine


Roy McAfee hadn’t been a private investigator for more than a few years, but he’d been in law enforcement his entire career. He was retired from the Seattle police force; after a few months, however, he’d thought he’d go stir-crazy sitting around the house doing nothing. Soon after his move to Cedar Cove, he’d hung out his shingle.

Retirement wasn’t for him. Some men took to it, got involved in hobbies and interests. That kind of life was too predictable for Roy. Nothing lured him faster than a good mystery, and he didn’t mean one between the covers of a book, either.

Few mysteries had intrigued him more than what was happening right here in Cedar Cove.

He sat down at his desk and reached for Bob Beldon’s file. If he reviewed the facts as they’d unfolded, perhaps he’d pick up on something he’d overlooked before. He didn’t think it was likely, but it wouldn’t hurt to refresh his memory.

It all started the night a stranger had arrived on the doorstep of the Beldons’ Thyme and Tide bed-and-breakfast. By morning he was dead.

Bob Beldon had notified Troy Davis, and the coroner came for the body. Soon afterward, it was discovered that the man had undergone extensive plastic surgery and carried false identification. For a few weeks there’d been a lot of speculation as to who he could be. Then silence-and things had died down for a while.

From the first, something about their guest had disturbed Beldon. Bob had experienced a recurring nightmare ever since his return from Vietnam. On occasion, he’d been known to sleepwalk.

Roy stopped reading and leaned back in his chair, recalling his initial thoughts when Beldon had asked him for help. Davis had questioned Beldon for the second or third time and Bob had considered contacting an attorney, but hadn’t. Instead he’d come to Roy. Not too far into the conversation, Roy had realized that the other man was afraid he might have been responsible for the stranger’s death.

Roy was quick to assure him otherwise, although he’d wondered the same thing in the beginning. But Maxwell’s door had been locked from the inside and there’d been no sign of a struggle. The fact of the matter was that until recently, they couldn’t be sure what had caused the other man’s death. The autopsy had shown that his vital organs were in fine shape.

Not long before Bob’s appointment with Roy, Grace Sherman had come to him. A year earlier, her husband, Dan, had gone missing. When Dan didn’t return, Grace had sought out Roy to help locate her husband. But every lead had been a dead end.

Unanswered questions didn’t sit well with him, although he’d shocked Grace with the few things he’d unearthed. One of them was the matter of thirteen thousand dollars Dan had somehow managed to keep from her. Grace had no idea where Dan could’ve found that kind of cash, which he’d apparently used to buy a trailer. He’d handed over his paycheck every Friday, regular as clockwork. Like most couples, they’d apparently lived month to month.

Then Dan’s body had been discovered and with it a suicide note he’d left for Grace. In his last letter to his wife, Dan had described an incident that had taken place during the Vietnam war. He and three others had been separated from their squadron, and they’d stumbled into a village, which they feared was Viet-Cong controlled. Something had happened, and they’d started firing and before the smoke cleared they’d wiped out the entire village, according to Dan. They’d massacred men, women and children. The event had forever marked him. He couldn’t live with himself any longer. Or so the letter had indicated.

Grace had been beside herself, not knowing what to do with the information. Roy was afraid he hadn’t been much help. He couldn’t really advise her; whatever became of these facts was her decision and hers alone.

Shortly afterward, Beldon had repeated the story Dan had written about in his suicide note. He’d mentioned Dan-they’d been two of the four men wandering through that jungle. He’d told Roy that afterward he and Dan hadn’t seen each other for almost thirty years. When Bob had come home to Cedar Cove, they’d completely avoided each other.

It seemed too much of a coincidence that Roy would hear this grisly tale from two different people within such a short period of time. On a hunch, he’d gone to Troy Davis and suggested the sheriff check out the other two men who’d been with Dan and Beldon that day.

Sure enough, one of the men-Maxwell Russell-had been reported missing. The unidentified body had turned out to be his. Why he’d come to Cedar Cove and why he’d carried false identification couldn’t be explained, though, any more than his death.

Not until later was it discovered that Max Russell had actually been murdered. Poisoned. There’d been evidence in the water bottle found in Russell’s rented vehicle.

Once Russell had been identified, his daughter had visited Cedar Cove to collect her father’s ashes. Davis had set up a meeting between Hannah and the Beldons, and as a favor to Bob, Roy had been at the house when she came by with the sheriff. Roy learned then that Hannah’s mother had died in a car accident, the same one that had badly burned her father. The burns were the reason for Max’s plastic surgery and quite possibly why Bob hadn’t recognized his old friend.

The circumstances surrounding the car crash led Roy to believe it hadn’t been an accident. He’d probably never be able to prove that. The accident report blamed Russell, but Hannah’s father had insisted the steering had disconnected. There was nothing to verify his account.

The door to Roy’s office opened and his wife walked in with a tray of coffee and freshly baked cookies. Corrie seemed intent on fattening him up, not that he was making much of a fuss. He certainly wasn’t turning down homemade cookies.

“Let me guess what you’re reading.” That know-it-all glint shone in her eyes. “Could it possibly have something to do with the Beldon case?”

“Smarty pants,” he said, grinning up at his wife.

“You’re going to solve this if it takes the rest of your life, aren’t you?”

Roy was close to the answer; he could feel it. He didn’t know what he’d missed, if anything, but eventually his instincts would lead him where he had to go. All he needed was patience but that, unfortunately, seemed to be in short supply.

Corrie poured coffee into the mug, added cream and gave it to him. “I get suspicious when you’re this quiet.”

Roy leaned back in his chair, the mug in his hand. “I’m sifting all the facts through my brain.”

“Do you still think the Beldons might be in some kind of danger?”

Roy didn’t know how to answer. He shrugged. “Two of the four men are dead. One was murdered and the other committed suicide.”

“What about the fourth man?”

“Apparently Davis has talked to Colonel Stewart Samuels. He told me he didn’t think Samuels is involved-but who knows?”

Corrie looked down at the file and picked up the top sheet. “It says here he’s up for a Congressional Committee assignment. If news of what happened in Nam got out, it could be disastrous to his career, don’t you think?”

“True.” Roy was well aware of that, but Samuels’s military record was impeccable. And he lived on the East Coast. His whereabouts were accounted for during the time around Maxwell Russell’s death. To be on the safe side, Roy had checked into the weeks shortly after Dan Sherman’s disappearance, but Samuels had been in Europe, on a NATO assignment.

Corrie poured a second mug of coffee, black, and sat in the chair across from Roy’s desk. “Linnette phoned this morning.” Their twenty-five-year-old daughter had recently graduated as a physician’s assistant.

Roy brightened. He adored Linnette and felt close to her. She was bright, beautiful and a source of pride. Her brother was another story. Roy and Mack were frequently at odds. Linnette had done well in school and Mack, to put it bluntly, hadn’t.

“She’s applying for a job in Montana, of all places.”

With the majority of physicians choosing to work in big cities, many small towns were left without medical professionals. Although she’d grown up in Seattle, Linnette had always been drawn to rural areas, so Roy wasn’t surprised by her decision. She’d be filling a critical need and living in the sort of place she liked.

“Did you hear me, Roy? Montana?”

He wasn’t sure what had upset Corrie so much. When Linnette had entered the medical program, they’d both known she wouldn’t settle down in Seattle.

“I don’t want her moving two states away!”

“Corrie-”

He wasn’t allowed to finish.

“Linnette doesn’t know a soul in Montana. There’s plenty of small towns in Washington State that need physician’s assistants.”

Roy made an effort to hold back his amusement. “It’s time to cut the apron strings, Mother.”

Evidently not a successful effort. Corrie cast him an exasperated look. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Roy McAfee.”

“Yes, dear.”

“You’re not funny. You know that, don’t you?”

Roy resisted answering, although it was a struggle. “Where would you be comfortable having Linnette find a job?”

Corrie bit her bottom lip and didn’t answer him.

“I have the feeling you’d like her to move right here to Cedar Cove,” he joked.

At that his wife’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. She set down her coffee, then leapt out of her chair, raced around the desk and kissed him soundly.

“What was that all about?” Roy asked, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s because you, my wonderful husband, are much smarter than I give you credit for.”

Bewildered, Roy watched her fly out of his office.




Chapter Ten


Grace thrust her hands decisively into her garden gloves, ready to head out to the back garden to plant Martha Washington geraniums. It wasn’t the way she wanted to spend Friday evening, but she refused to mope around the house. Buttercup waited for her at the kitchen door, tail wagging.

“We’ll plant these now and see what we can find at the Farmers’ Market tomorrow morning. That sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?” The fact that Grace had begun to carry on whole conversations with her golden retriever had to be a sign of how lonely she was.

The Farmers’ Market had started the first Saturday of May, and although there were only a few homegrown vegetables available this early in the season, Grace enjoyed going there each week. She almost always ran into a few friends. One or both of her daughters was likely to show up, as well.

The phone rang, startling Grace. She pulled off her righthand glove and reached for the wall-mounted receiver.

“Hello.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice, hoping with all her heart that it was Cliff. He’d weighed heavily on her mind since their chance encounter at the restaurant earlier in the week. Her hope was that he’d been thinking about her, too.

“It’s Stanley Lockhart, Grace. How are you?”

Grace felt an immediate stab of disappointment. “Hello, Stan.” She kept her voice cool, not wanting to encourage Olivia’s ex-husband. “I’m fine.”

“Me, too. Listen, would you like to go to dinner tonight?”

She glanced over at the can of clam chowder that was slated to be her evening meal. Still, she preferred to eat soup alone over a three-course meal with Stan Lockhart.

“Sorry, I already have plans.”

“You can’t change them?” He didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.

“No.” How like Stan to expect her to alter her evening because he needed a dinner companion.

“What if I stop by later?” His enthusiasm was back. “It’s important.”

“That won’t work, either.” She couldn’t imagine what he had to tell her that was so urgent. Grace sincerely hoped he got the message, but the subtle approach wasn’t always successful with Stan. Inbred politeness prevented her from being rude and telling him outright that she wanted to avoid him.

The line went quiet as he contemplated her refusal. “I see,” he said, sounding depressed. “Gracie, listen, I hate to be a pest but I’d like to talk to you if we can manage it.”

Gracie. From the time she was in grade school, Grace had detested that nickname. She gritted her teeth. Stan hadn’t been in touch since that one dinner. Now this. She couldn’t even guess what he wanted.

“Why don’t you tell me what you need to see me about?”

He hesitated. “It’s better if I do it in person. Is there anyplace we can meet? Drinks? Coffee? You say when and where, and I’ll be there.” His tone took on a pleading quality. Grace knew that Stan’s second marriage had recently failed; he still seemed to be shaken. She sympathized, but she didn’t want to get involved with him.

“It won’t take much of your time, I promise.”

She hesitated, fearing that he’d hound her until she gave in. “I plan to be at the Farmers’ Market in the morning.”

“Perfect.” He leaped on the suggestion. “I’ll see you there. What time?”

“It opens at nine.”

“Make it later. Nine’s a little early for me.”

So now he expected her to change her Saturday schedule to suit his? What sympathy she felt for him quickly evaporated. “I’ll be there at nine, Stan. If I see you then, that’ll be fine and if I don’t, I don’t.”

“All right, all right. I’ll get there as close to nine as I can. Just remember I’m coming over from Seattle.”

She’d forgotten that, but decided it didn’t matter; he was the one who considered it so important that they meet.

Saturday morning, Grace loaded Buttercup into her car and drove to the Farmers’ Market. Buttercup was a well-behaved dog who loved being around people. The animal shelter had set up an adoption center in the market. Every Saturday the shelter brought down homeless cats and kittens; once a month, Grace took her turn running their booth, which was popular with children and adults alike.

Buttercup strained against her leash in a hurry to view the kittens, and Grace sharply commanded her to heel. She’d been thinking about adopting a cat herself, since she felt bad about leaving Buttercup alone all day and a cat would be company for her.

“Mom.”

Grace turned to find Maryellen pushing Katie in her stroller. “I wondered if I’d see you here.” The back section of the stroller was already full.

Grace bent down and kissed Katie, who gurgled and waved her arms. Maryellen positively glowed with happiness, and Grace was delighted. Maryellen was more confident and relaxed, more carefree somehow, than she’d ever been. And-equally important-Katie would have the benefit of growing up with two parents.

“You’re out and about early,” she said conversationally.

“Jon’s working and won’t be home until late afternoon.”

That meant her son-in-law was somewhere in western Washington photographing trees or birds. Or something.

“I love married life,” Maryellen burst out. “Oh, Mom, how could I have been so foolish? Jon is a wonderful husband and father.”

“Honey, I’m thrilled for you.”

“I’d better get back to the house. I bought three pounds of fresh clams and I need to get them into the refrigerator.”

“I didn’t think you liked clams.”

“I don’t, but Jon does.”

It seemed to Grace that if Jon indulged Maryellen, as she often claimed, her daughter catered to Jon just as much.

Grace bought a pound of clams herself and a jar of marmalade from Carol, the lady who sold homemade jelly. She glanced around and didn’t see Stan and figured that was for the best. After strolling down the other aisles, she made her way toward the parking lot.

“Grace,” Stan called, waving vigorously. He stood on the marina walkway. “Over here.”

With Buttercup trotting beside her, Grace walked to the marina area.

“Seth suggested I sleep in his boat,” Stan explained. He looked like he was ready for a tennis date, wearing white shorts and a white cable-knit sweater with a red-and-blue border.

“How’s it going?” he asked, striking a relaxed pose, studying her as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start.

“Good.” She didn’t elaborate, preferring to skip the small talk. “What can I do for you?”

His smile was strained. “You know, since Marge and I split and Olivia married that newsman, I’ve been at loose ends.”

Grace didn’t like the sound of this. She wondered if he was leading up to asking her out again, and if that was the case, she simply wasn’t interested. She had to tell him before he went any further.

“Stan, I realize you must be lonely-”

“Lonely,” he repeated and shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “No, no, it isn’t that. I heard about the Dog and Bachelor Auction.”

It took Grace a moment to put two and two together-and then she upbraided herself for being so dense.

“I’d like to volunteer to be one of the bachelors,” Stan said eagerly.

She should’ve known. Stan had always enjoyed being the center of attention. The idea of women bidding on him…That would be the ultimate. In all fairness, he’d do a good job as someone’s date for an evening, provided whoever won him knew what to expect.

“It’s for charity, right?”

“To raise funds for the animal shelter,” she told him.

“Well, you know how I feel about animals.” He nodded sagely and she nodded, too, although she’d never noticed any particular liking for animals. “I’m willing to do my part,” he went on, “and since I’m available, well, why not?” He cast her a practiced smile. “I imagine I could bring in a few dollars for a worthy cause.”

“You don’t live in Cedar Cove, remember?”

“You’re right, but I did at one time and people here know me. Really, volunteering is the least I can do to help out, and I understand you’re the person to talk to.”

“Actually, two other women are gathering bachelors’ names, but I’d be happy to suggest yours.

Stan grinned. “Thanks.” Gratitude radiated from him. “I knew I could count on you.”

Buttercup wagged her tail and looked up, anticipating Stan’s attention. However the animal lover didn’t so much as glance in the dog’s direction.

“Have you already been to the market?” Stan asked.

The bags in her hands should be evidence that she had.

“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee and you can fill me in on the details about the auction? Maybe you could help me come up with a strategy.”

“A…strategy?”

“Yeah, you know. How to get the ladies to bid on me. Just how many women are expected?”

“I don’t know. The tickets haven’t gone on sale yet.”

“I just had a thought.” He straightened, seeming pleased with himself. “I imagine that if the women in town knew exactly who was up for auction, the animal shelter would sell more tickets, right?”

Grace wasn’t sure about that. “I suppose.”

“What if you printed the names of the bachelors directly on the tickets? That might generate even more interest, don’t you think?”

Stan was certainly full of ideas. “I’ll make that suggestion, too,” she murmured.

“Good.” His eyes brightened and Grace could see he was quite taken with this bachelor auction. During their one and only dinner date, Stan had practically been crying in his soup, wallowing in self-pity. He’d regrouped fast enough, she thought wryly.

“I’ll do what I can to make sure your name’s added to the list,” she said, eager to leave for home.

“Thanks, Gracie. I appreciate the fact that you’re such a good friend.”

Grace didn’t consider herself that much of a friend, but she let the comment-and the nickname-slide. She directed Buttercup toward the parking lot behind the library, where she’d left her car.

“Nice seeing you again, Grace.”

“You, too, Stan.”

“Oh, Grace.” He jogged the few steps over to her. “When you mention the idea about printing the names…”

“Yes?”

“Be sure and tell them it came from me.”

“Of course.” She ordered Buttercup to sit and dropped the leash for a moment so she could shift the heavy bags from one hand to the other.

“And seeing that it was my idea-” he paused and laughed playfully “-I think it’s only fair that my name be one of those on the list.”

“I’ll make sure that’s understood.”

“Great.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and briefly hugged her.

As if the thought had suddenly struck him, he asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Not a thing,” she assured him, surprised he’d asked.

“You’re sure.” His hands lingered on her shoulders.

“Positive.”

Just then, behind Stan, Grace caught sight of a male figure in a cowboy hat. No, please no, she prayed silently, don’t let that be Cliff. Her one fear was that he’d heard about her dinner date with Stan and would think she was foolish enough to get involved in a relationship with Olivia’s ex-husband.

Stan muttered something about needing to meet a friend. Before she could stop him, he gave her another quick hug and was gone.

Grace’s gaze remained fixed on the man with the Stetson. When Stan freed her and left, he no longer obscured her line of vision. Sure enough, it was Cliff. He stood staring at her and even from this distance, she could see him frowning.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t the way it looked. She wasn’t involved with Stan. Nor did she want to be.

After a suspended moment, Cliff acknowledged her by touching the brim of his hat. Almost immediately, he turned away.

She wanted to rush over to him and explain, but feared she’d do more harm than good. With a heavy heart, Grace headed home.




Chapter Eleven


The board meeting over, Bob Beldon left the community theater, situated just off Heron Street. He’d been active in theater since his high-school days; drama class had been his favorite and he’d starred in a number of school productions. If not for Vietnam and everything that happened afterward, he might have considered a career on the stage.

These days he got what he called his “theater fix” by participating in local productions. Currently he served on the board of directors and the group had discussed a number of potential plays for next year’s season.

Bob was still thinking about the merits of Our Town vs. The Matchmaker as he drove down the winding road that led to Cranberry Point. The name of the road always amused him. As far as he knew, there weren’t any cranberries growing in the area. There were cranberry bogs in Washington State, but none in or near Cedar Cove. Whistling “Hello, Dolly,” he continued driving, free for the moment of the burdens that oppressed him. This was what he loved about the theater. He could immerse himself in a role-in the whole process of staging a play-and put aside his troubles. His friends in AA might call it denial, but the theater gave him a ready excuse.

Knowing Peggy, she’d have dinner started. Since it was Monday, he guessed she’d probably prepared either stuffed green peppers or her fabulous meat loaf. Either meal suited him just fine.

Still whistling as he pulled into the driveway, he found his wife watering her herb garden. Any time of year, her gardens were something to behold. The name of their B and B, Thyme and Tide, had come from both their proximity to the sea and Peggy’s herbs. And of course the old saying about time and tide waiting for no man…

Speaking of time, without guests, they both had plenty of that on their hands. Money was tight, but Peggy was as skilled at budgeting as she was at every other household task. Bob couldn’t imagine how they’d manage their money situation otherwise, but thankfully Peggy had it all figured out.

He drove into the garage and then walked out to greet Peggy. Garden hose in hand, she smiled as he approached. The sun was still high, although it was almost six o’clock. According to the calendar, summer would officially arrive later in the month, but as usual it would take another six weeks to show up in the Pacific Northwest. August and September were almost always spectacular. Bob had to remind himself of that in February and March, when the constant drizzle dragged down his normally good spirits.

“Hi, honey,” Bob said. He stood at the edge of her garden. The fennel bulbs were flowering, and the parsley and cilantro were just peeking up from the dark, rich soil. “What’s for dinner?”

“Meat loaf. How’d the meeting go?”

“Just great.” He couldn’t contain his smile.

“What’s that grin about? Are you keeping something from me?” She jokingly aimed the hose in his direction.

“Not a thing.” He chuckled, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I was just thinking we’d probably have meat loaf tonight, is all.”

Peggy walked over to the side of the house and turned off the water. “I’m about finished here.”

Bob nodded.

“If you’ve got a moment, I’d like to talk.”

He hesitated. When Peggy asked to speak to him in that formal way, it generally wasn’t about anything pleasant.

“Is something wrong?”

“Not really.”

She seemed rather closemouthed about it, which wasn’t good. Now that he studied her, Bob realized he should have seen the signs earlier. Peggy was a talker, a natural conversationalist. She could-and did-talk to anyone about anything. Many of their guests were repeat customers Peggy now counted as friends.

Bob followed her into the mudroom off the kitchen. Peggy changed out of her rubber shoes and methodically put her gardening supplies on the shelf. The contrast between her highly organized work areas and his-well, sometimes it embarrassed him a little. He could be such a slob, he thought ruefully, and yet Peggy was so tolerant of his carelessness, for which he could only be grateful.

“What’s going on?” he asked as they entered the kitchen.

Peggy automatically poured them each a cup of tea and set the mugs on the table. “I got a phone call from Hannah Russell this afternoon.”

Bob felt the sudden need to sit down. He yanked out the chair and sat, reaching for his tea.

“I’m so worried,” Peggy said, sitting across from him.

That got Bob’s attention. “About what?” They’d been caught up in this nightmare for so long that he’d grown accustomed to the tension. It had become part of his reality and there was nothing to do but stand firm in the face of each new shock.

“Hannah,” Peggy continued as if it should be obvious. “Her mother and father are both gone. She’s like a lost soul. She’s foundering, Bob.” She paused for a moment. “I talked to Hollie today, and she said that in her opinion, Hannah needs a sense of security. I agree with her.”

“I suppose that’s only natural when someone loses both parents in such a short time.” Bob envied the closeness between his wife and daughter. He knew that during his drinking years, he’d lost an important part of his children’s lives.

Peggy’s hands tightened around her mug. “Hannah phoned to thank me for my letter.”

Bob had forgotten that Peggy had written the girl. It was just the sort of thoughtful thing she’d do.

“She wanted to tell me she’s moving.”

“Where?”

“That’s just it,” Peggy said, and her face darkened with concern. “She doesn’t know. She’s sold everything she can. Hollie says that Hannah’s running away from her pain-that she’ll carry it with her wherever she goes.”




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