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1105 Yakima Street
Debbie Macomber


Perfect for fans of Maeve Binchy' - CandisDear Reader, You've probably heard that my wife has left me. Rachel's pregnant and she says she can't handle the stress in our household anymore. My thirteen-year-old daughter, Jolene, is jealous of her. Maybe it's my fault. As a widower I spoiled her— Jolene was reading over my shoulder just now and says that's not true. She claims Rachel ruined everything. But that's not true.The real question is: How can I get my wife back? I don't even know where she is. She's not with Teri Polgar or any of her other friends from the salon. The other question is…when will Jolene grow up and stop acting like such a brat? I'm not the only one in town with problems. Linc Wyse's father-in-law is trying to destroy his business.And you know Charlotte Rhodes? Seems she's becoming forgetful and the family's worried about her and Ben. Lots of other stuff going on—but Rachel is better at keeping up with it than I am. If you have any idea where my wife is, give me a call. Please.The Cedar Cove series is now a hit Channel 5 TV series, appearing on UK screens on CHANNEL 5USA










1105 Yakima Street

Debbie Macomber






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


To my very special cousins,

Teresa Seibert and Cherie Adler.


Dear Friends,

Well, here it is: 1105 Yakima Street, book eleven of the Cedar Cove series. Each of these books is special to me in one way or another. I chose the name Yakima Street because I was born in the town of Yakima, Washington, and the first seventeen years of my life were spent in this central Washington community. To me it will always represent home. It’s where my roots are, my parents are buried and where several of my cousins still live.

This will be the second-last book in the series. In the final story, 1225 Christmas Tree Lane, I’ll revisit every Cedar Cove family and tie up all the loose ends.

The last eleven years—during which I wrote this series—have been some of the best of my career. You probably know that I based Cedar Cove on my hometown of Port Orchard, Washington, where Wayne and I have lived since 1986. We raised our children there and it’s where we continue to make our home. To my great delight, the people of Port Orchard embraced the books and in 2009 held a five-day event called Cedar Cove Days. It’s an occasion I’ll always treasure, since I was able to meet so many of my wonderful readers.

These novels have allowed me to create a universe that’s very much like mine—and yet Cedar Cove also became a place that took on its own reality, as readers have been kind enough to point out. As well, the Cedar Cove books led directly to Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove Cookbook, compiled by Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes, which launched my first foray into the fascinating world of cookbooks. I always knew that collecting—and trying—all those recipes would pay off one day!

Saying good-bye to these characters, the people of Cedar Cove, is difficult for me, but it’s been a pleasure and a privilege to share the town with you, my readers. I know you’ll enjoy Rachel and Bruce’s story (and Jolene’s), along with those of all your Cedar Cove friends. They’re waiting for you to turn the pages.

As always, I’d be delighted to hear from you. I can be reached at www.DebbieMacomber.com or PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.

Sincerely,









One


Sunshine splashed into the windows of the Bremerton waterfront café. Rachel Peyton sat in a booth, gazing out at the street and taking occasional sips of the apple juice she’d ordered. It was Friday, late afternoon, and she’d come here after work to meet a friend. She couldn’t stop thinking about her marriage to Bruce, wondering how it had disintegrated so fast. They’d gone from an impromptu wedding last December to separation less than ten months later. She turned her head to look in the direction of Cedar Cove. The town was situated on the other side of Sinclair Inlet but might as well have been across the Pacific.

Rachel felt she couldn’t go back home to Cedar Cove—to Yakima Street—and yet she had no other viable choice. She’d left after the latest argument with her stepdaughter, Jolene. Although Bruce was aware of the tension between her and Rachel, he’d never adequately addressed it, believing it would eventually resolve itself. Oh, sure, he’d made a halfhearted offer to go to counseling with, or more likely without, Jolene. But that was too little, too late. Nothing had changed, and, as a result, the stress in their home had become intolerable. Now that she was pregnant, Rachel had decided to leave … for the sake of her sanity and for her own health and that of her baby.

She’d lied to Bruce, saying she had a place to stay—with an unidentified friend. Instead, she’d checked into a Bremerton hotel.

The problem was, she needed her job if she was going to support herself, which meant she’d need to find an apartment in Cedar Cove or at least nearby. Everything was complicated by the fact that this hadn’t been an easy pregnancy. She had severe morning sickness and her blood pressure was dangerously high. That was understandable, considering the tension in the house. If not for the baby, Rachel might have found the strength to deal with Jolene. She might’ve been willing to devote all her energy to sorting out the complicated tangle of the girl’s emotions, giving her the constant reassurance she seemed to require.

Since Jolene had learned about the baby, the whole situation had become that much more difficult. Not only did her stepdaughter see her as competition for Bruce’s affections, but now Rachel had committed an even worse crime by bringing another child into the family, robbing the girl of his undivided attention.

What shocked Rachel was how close she and Jolene had been before she married Bruce. As a motherless child herself, Rachel had taken a special interest in Jolene, part maternal, part friendly. They’d bonded when the girl was just six, a year after Jolene’s mother was killed in a car accident. Bruce had brought Jolene into the salon for a haircut and Jolene had sadly told her how much she missed her mommy. Rachel had been drawn to the child because she’d identified with Jolene. She still recalled in vivid detail how she’d felt when her own mother had died and she’d gone to live with her mother’s sister, a woman she barely knew.

Through the years, the closeness between Rachel and Jolene had grown—until she’d made the mistake of marrying Jolene’s father. To be fair to the teenager, Jolene had wanted Rachel and Bruce to wait until she’d had time to get used to the idea. Bruce, however, wouldn’t hear of it. He’d wanted them married. Well, so did Rachel, although she’d asked Bruce to delay the wedding because of Jolene’s qualms. But by then … the momentum of their plans had taken over.

In the beginning, after first meeting Bruce, she hadn’t considered him anything more than a friend. He was Jolene’s dad. He relied on her help with his daughter. For years there hadn’t been the slightest indication of romantic interest on either part. Rachel was seeing Nate Olsen, a navy warrant officer she’d met after bidding on him at a fundraiser for the local humane society—the Dog and Bachelor Auction. Shortly after the wedding, Nate was deployed out of state, but now he was back. They’d been in contact recently and, in fact, he was the friend she’d arranged to meet here.

For a while she and Nate had seriously thought about marriage. However, by the time he’d asked her to make a decision, Rachel had come to realize she was in love with Bruce. Surprisingly, miraculously, Bruce loved her, too. From there everything had moved quickly. Too quickly.

She had to acknowledge the truth of that old cliché about marrying in haste. Rachel had been all too willing to accept Bruce’s assurances that Jolene would adjust. After all, he’d pointed out, it wasn’t as though Rachel was a stranger.

But Jolene hadn’t adjusted. Whatever affection she’d had for Rachel had changed into passive-aggressive behavior and then escalated to open antagonism. Not wanting to distress her husband, Rachel had done her best to deflect Jolene’s hostility. The pregnancy was unplanned, and she’d hoped to keep it a secret for a few months, but Bruce insisted it was only right to tell Jolene. That, too, had backfired. And it had led to this.

The café door opened but Rachel didn’t look up until Nate Olsen slid into the booth across from her.

“Rachel?”

She glanced up and offered him a weak smile.

Nate’s blue eyes narrowed slightly. “You okay?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“You don’t have to say it. I look terrible.”

“Not terrible,” he said. “Just … very pale.”

Nate had emailed her when he returned to Bremerton. He felt she should know so that if they inadvertently ran into each other, she’d be prepared. With everything else that was happening, Rachel hadn’t paid much attention to his email and hadn’t responded. Nate was someone she’d loved in the past. She was a married woman now.

With time on her hands at the hotel, she’d gone to the business center and logged on to her email account. She’d impulsively answered his message, telling him that her marriage was falling apart. After they’d exchanged a few short emails, Nate suggested they meet. She’d accepted his invitation.

“At my last doctor’s visit I learned I have an iron deficiency.” It didn’t help that she hadn’t been able to keep down a meal. Her morning sickness lingered for most of the day, making her feel too queasy and uncomfortable to eat. She’d lost weight when she should be gaining.

“I’m glad you got in touch.”

“I probably shouldn’t have.” Only Rachel didn’t know who else to contact. She couldn’t reach out to her friends; they were the first people Bruce would approach. This separation was difficult enough without dragging her friends into the middle of it.

“I meant what I said,” Nate continued. “If you ever need anything, call me. You know I’ll do whatever I can.”

When the waitress came over to the table with a coffeepot, Nate turned over his ceramic mug and she filled it.

At his words, tears of appreciation sprang to Rachel’s eyes. “I know …”

“What can I do?”

She wasn’t sure. “Like I said in my email, I … I’ve left Bruce and Jolene.” It went without saying that this fit right into her stepdaughter’s plans. Undoubtedly Jolene was ecstatic about having her father to herself again.

“So it’s come to that?”

Rachel’s dark hair fell forward as she looked down. “I … talked to Teri and she wants me to move in with her.”

“Are you going to?”

“I can’t. That’ll be the first place Bruce goes. I told him I was moving in with a friend …. At the time I thought I might take Teri up on her offer, but I can’t do that to her. She and Bobby have their hands full with the three babies.”

“Three?”

“Teri had triplets.”

Nate laughed. That seemed to be a common reaction when people heard about the triplets. “She always does everything in a big way, doesn’t she?” he murmured.

He knew Teri, so he also knew that if anyone could handle this, it was her friend. But capable though she was, Teri didn’t need a miserable friend to deal with, in addition to caring for three babies.

“So, if you don’t move in with Teri, where will you go?”

“I … I don’t know.” All that mattered was getting out of the house as fast as possible. She got a hotel room, but that was far too expensive to be a permanent solution. At this rate she’d drain her bank account in a week. Besides, it wouldn’t take Bruce long to discover where she was, and once he did, he’d do whatever he could to convince her to return home. Rachel couldn’t allow that to happen, not while the situation with Jolene was still unsettled.

Nate sipped his coffee in thoughtful silence. Eventually he said, “You could always move in with me.”

Rachel’s head shot up. That wasn’t even a consideration. If Bruce learned she was living with Nate he’d feel blindsided. Besides, it would give Jolene more ammunition to use against her. “I’m grateful for the offer, I really am, but I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“Why not?”

“Nate, I couldn’t…. What would Bruce think?”

“Do you need to tell him?”

“I …” She opened her mouth to object, then merely said, “He’d want to know.”

“Of course he would, but you don’t have to tell him everything. The only important thing here is that you’re somewhere safe and that you’re taking care of yourself.”

Rachel stared at him. “Are you suggesting I lie to my husband?”

“Not lie, exactly. I’m saying don’t fill in all the blanks. As it happens, the house I’m sharing belongs to a friend of mine. I have a room, but there’s a third bedroom available. Unfortunately, Bob’s deployed right now, so it would just be the two of us. If you’re uncomfortable with that, I understand.”

She exhaled, feeling torn. His idea did seem like a good solution, but she could only imagine how Bruce would react if he discovered the truth. For obvious reasons, the two men weren’t on the best of terms.

“It might help you decide if I tell you I’m seeing someone.”

Actually, that did help. “Is it serious?” Rachel asked.

Nate shrugged. “Serious enough. I’m out with Emily three or four nights a week. You’d have the house to yourself most of the time.”

“What kind of rent does Bob charge?”

Nate mentioned an amount that was more than reasonable, then added, “You wouldn’t be expected to cook or clean or anything else if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh.” She nibbled her lower lip as she considered his suggestion. He’d given her an option she hadn’t expected.

“Before you answer, why don’t you come over and check out the place.”

Still, she hesitated.

“You want to get away for a while, don’t you?”

She did, and Nate knew that.

“Someplace where Bruce and his daughter would never think of looking?”

She nodded slowly.

“Don’t worry about me,” Nate told her once again. “I loved you, Rachel, I really did, but I’ve moved on. However, I care about you, which is why I brought up this arrangement. If you’re concerned about what might result from the two of us being in the same house, then let me assure you right now, nothing’s going to happen.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll go see the place.”

“Good.” He left money to pay for their drinks, then slid out of the booth.

Rachel stood and immediately felt dizzy. She would have stumbled if Nate hadn’t grabbed her elbow.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

She closed her eyes and tried to remember. “A while ago. I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. Listen, no arguments. Once you’ve toured the house, I’m fixing you something to eat.”

“You cook?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember that I’m a man of many talents.”

His smile was just the salve she needed, his friendship the mainstay that would see her through this upheaval in her life.

She followed Nate to the Bremerton address he gave her. The house was in a nearby neighborhood, convenient to the navy base. The two-story structure, built after the Second World War, had a large front porch and shuttered windows. It was meant for a family.

Unexpected emotion swelled up inside Rachel as she looked at the house. Her mother had been a single parent and her aunt had never married. All her life Rachel had yearned to be part of a family. When she married Bruce, she’d felt as if she finally belonged. She had a husband and a stepdaughter and they were bonded together by love. It didn’t take long for that dream to shatter and now, once more, she was on the outside…. The baby stirred, and she pressed her palm against her stomach, hoping her child would one day know the love of a father, a mother and a big sister.

“Would you like to come in?” Nate asked, again clasping her elbow as though he feared she might crumple onto the pavement.

Without answering, she accompanied him up the walkway to the steps.

“I do my best to keep the place neat, but you have to remember I’m a guy and housekeeping is low on my priority list.”

“I’ll remember,” she said, managing a glimmer of a smile.

The house wasn’t in bad shape. A few newspapers and magazines were scattered about but the sink was empty of dirty dishes and the living room free of clutter. The furniture, large and dark, wasn’t anything she would’ve purchased, but it would suffice.

“Let me show you the extra bedroom,” Nate said, steering her down the long hallway. He chuckled.

“What?” she asked, curious about what he found so amusing.

“I promised there’d be nothing romantic between us, and the first thing I do is take you to the bedroom.” He shook his head. “Sorry, the irony was too much for me.”

Rachel laughed softly. “I guess it does sound rather … compromising.”

The room he showed her was pretty basic. It might have been a hotel room for all the personality it revealed. A bed, a dresser and a nightstand were the only furniture. There wasn’t a picture on the wall or any indication that someone else had once occupied the room. The bedspread looked worn and was probably one Bob had purchased years before.

“Like I said, it’s nothing fancy.”

“Where’s your bedroom?” she asked, noting the number of doors leading off the hallway.

“Upstairs. Both of the other bedrooms are.”

That meant it wasn’t likely they’d run into each other in the middle of the night, which made her feel a little less guilty about the prospect of deceiving her husband.

“So,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, “what do you think?”

“I …” She paused. Again, she imagined what Bruce would say if he found out where she was living. That would definitely complicate an already complicated situation. But then, as Nate had said, she didn’t need to tell Bruce the whole truth—at least, not right away. He only had to be told one thing: that she was safe.

“You really are a good friend, aren’t you?” She meant that. She believed in his genuineness, even though he’d been hurt by her choice of Bruce over him.

He grinned. “Anything for you, Rachel, you know that.”

“All right, I’ll do it. You’ve got yourself a housemate—but on one condition.”

“Sure.”

She met his eyes. “You can’t tell anyone I’m living here. No one, okay?”

Frowning, Nate rubbed his chin. “Since it’s Bob’s house I can’t keep it a secret from him, and I feel I should say something to Emily, but I can ask them not to mention it to anyone else.”

“Fine, you can tell Bob and Emily, as long as they’re willing to be discreet.”

“I’ll make that clear. But who do you expect me—or them—to tell?” he asked.

“Your friends. Or their friends. You’d be amazed at how quickly word gets around in Cedar Cove. You might casually mention it to one of your navy buddies and that person might know Bruce and an hour later my husband will show up on the doorstep. Bruce isn’t an aggressive or violent man, but he wouldn’t take kindly to the two of us sharing a house.”

“Okay, deal.” Nate extended his hand.

“I’ll keep my end of the bargain, as well,” she promised, shaking his hand. “I’ll do my best to be a good housemate. I’ll pay my rent on time and—”

“I wasn’t worried about it, Rachel,” he broke in. “I guess you can’t tell Teri, can you?”

Now, that was going to be painful. Rachel told Teri everything. She was her closest friend and had been for years. But Nate was right; she couldn’t leak a word of this to anyone, not even Teri. Bruce would certainly ask her, and Rachel couldn’t risk the chance that Teri would accidentally divulge the information. What she didn’t know, she couldn’t share.

“No, I don’t think I will,” she said. Hard as that would be, it was necessary.




Two


When the alarm rang at the Cedar Cove firehouse, Mack and his fellow firefighters jumped into action. The address was relayed as he leaped onto the fire truck, and the familiarity of it struck him immediately, although he didn’t have time to think about it. Not until the truck, lights flashing and sirens blaring, turned onto Eagle Crest Avenue did he realize the house belonged to Ben and Charlotte Rhodes. Mack had visited there often, taking his daughter, Noelle, to see her grandparents. The smoke billowing out of the house came from the back, where the kitchen was located.

Mack and the two other firefighters pulled out the hose, all of them supporting it, and raced toward the house. The fire engine carried five hundred gallons of water, which enabled them to get water onto the fire without the delay of hooking up to a hydrant. A second truck would arrive within minutes and those firefighters would engage the closest hydrant.

Mack’s heart pounded as he ran toward the rear of the house carrying the bulky hose. Already he could hear the second siren in the distance.

Ben and Charlotte, plus several of their neighbors, stood out on the sidewalk staring at the scene. Charlotte wore the horrified look of a woman who couldn’t believe what was happening. Ben stood next to her, his arm protectively around her shoulders. He seemed equally shaken.

Because he was busy working on the fire, Mack didn’t get a chance to talk to the elderly couple until the blaze was extinguished, which took only minutes. Thankfully the damage seemed to be confined to the kitchen.

The fire squad commander spoke to Ben while Charlotte wrung her hands. She seemed so distraught and anxious that Mack approached, hoping to reassure them all was well.

“Oh, Mack, I’m so grateful you’re here,” Charlotte said, her eyes brimming with tears, which threatened to spill at any moment.

“Everything’s fine,” he told her in a soothing voice. “The fire’s out.”

“This is all my fault,” she cried. “I’m sure I must have done something. Oh, why wasn’t I more careful? I get so easily distracted these days….”

“The cause of the fire hasn’t been determined,” Mack said, trying to be diplomatic, although he suspected she was right. “Any number of things could be the cause.” With a house of this age, electrical problems weren’t uncommon.

“But I was the one in the kitchen,” Charlotte said in a small voice.

“It could’ve been an electrical short,” Mack said, hoping to calm her. He’d just finished speaking when a car pulled up on the other side of the street and Olivia Griffin got out. She wore a suit and heels and had obviously just left the courthouse, where she was a judge.

“Mom, Mom!” she called as she dashed across the street, barely watching for oncoming traffic.

Charlotte turned and hurried toward her daughter. They hugged fiercely for a minute, clinging to each other.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” Charlotte assured her, tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

“What about Harry?”

Mack hadn’t seen the family cat and he’d been too busy to remember Charlotte and Ben’s pet.

“Ben got him out of the house,” Charlotte explained. She glanced around as if unsure where he was currently hiding. “Oh, poor Harry, he must be terrified. He doesn’t usually go outside, you know….” Her voice faded.

Mack’s experience with the cat was limited. Whenever he, Mary Jo and Noelle visited, Harry made it clear that he was willing to tolerate them, but no more than that. After accepting the respectful greetings he considered his due, he generally ignored them all and retreated to his accustomed place on the back of the sofa. His other favorite perch was the windowsill overlooking the front yard. Harry was probably hiding somewhere, under the porch or maybe in some bushes. If the cat didn’t show up soon, he’d help with the search.

The squad commander seemed to be finished speaking to Ben, who now joined the circle. “Mack,” the older man said, looking flustered. His white hair, normally carefully groomed, was in disarray, as if he’d rammed his fingers through it repeatedly. “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky, “for looking after Charlotte.”

Mack didn’t feel he’d done anything out of the ordinary.

“Mack, what about the damage to the house?” Olivia asked him. “That’s being assessed,” he replied, “but there doesn’t appear to be any damage to rooms other than the kitchen.”

“I’m so grateful you got here when you did,” Charlotte murmured.

“Mom. Ben.” Will Jefferson, her son, hoofed it up the last part of the steep street and across the lawn. Apparently he’d run from the Harbor Street Art Gallery, where he lived and worked. It was only a few blocks away, but unfortunately they were all straight uphill.

“Everything’s okay,” Olivia told him. “Mom, Ben and Harry got out in time.”

“Thank God.” Will leaned over and placed his hands on his knees, wheezing as he attempted to catch his breath. “I didn’t know what to think when you called,” he said to Olivia.

“Mrs. Johnson left me a message at the courthouse,” Olivia told their mother, “and then I phoned Will.”

“I hope I didn’t upset you too much,” the next-door neighbor said, her brow furrowed. She stood a few feet away. “I saw the fire and phoned it in, but Ben had already taken care of that. Then I thought if it was my house I’d want my children to know what was going on, so I called the courthouse. I do hope that was the right thing to do.”

“It certainly was,” Olivia said fervently. “Don’t ever hesitate to contact me in regard to Mom and Ben. About anything,” she emphasized.

“Me, too,” Will chimed in.

“Oh, yes,” Charlotte echoed, reaching for her daughter’s arm. “I feel much better now that my children are here.”

“What happened?” Will asked, still a little breathless. He glanced from Ben to Mack and back to Ben.

“I’m not sure,” Ben said, turning to Charlotte.

“I made lunch the way I always do—chicken noodle soup, which was on simmer—and then Ben and I sat down. We were reading when Ben said he smelled smoke.”

Ben nodded in agreement.

“I didn’t smell anything, so I didn’t worry about it. My new cooking magazine arrived today and they had twenty-eight recipes on how to use zucchini and I was absorbed in that. Then all of a sudden Ben threw down his book and let out a yell.”

“Yes,” Ben said, picking up the tale. “I saw flames.”

“Thank goodness Ben can deal with a crisis because I panicked. My first thought was that we needed to put out the fire ourselves, but by then the kitchen drapes were in flames, and it was … just too much.”

Mack cringed since trying to handle the fire themselves was one of the biggest mistakes homeowners made.

“One look told me it was already more than either of us could deal with,” Ben continued, “so I got Charlotte and Harry out of the house and used my cell phone to call 9-1-1.”

Mack was grateful that Ben had remained calm. Too many people stayed inside the home to contact 9-1-1, putting themselves at greater risk. “You did the best possible thing,” he said. “The first action to take is always to get everyone out of the house, then call the fire department.”

“What happens next?” Olivia asked, directing the question to Mack.

“The fire department will investigate the cause,” he told them.

“When will the investigator get here?” Ben asked, standing close to Charlotte.

“Usually within a couple of hours,” Mack told them.

“What about the Crock-Pot?” Charlotte said suddenly, clutching Ben’s arm. “I had tonight’s dinner in it. Should we try to find it in this mess?”

“Mom, I think dinner is the least of your problems,” Will inserted. “I’d assume the Crock-Pot’s a lost cause.”

Mack couldn’t remember seeing it, but his attention had been focused on putting out the fire.

“What can you tell me about dealing with the insurance people?” Ben asked, looking at Mack. “Will they get in touch with us or will I need to call them?”

“You’ll need to notify them.”

“The contact information is inside the house,” Ben muttered.

“Do you have the same carrier as you do for your car insurance?”

“Yes.”

“Then the phone number should be on your insurance card.” Washington state law required carrying proof of insurance when driving, so either Ben had the insurance card in his wallet or in the car’s glove compartment.

“Of course.” Ben grimaced. “I guess I’m more rattled than I thought.”

“It’s understandable,” Mack said. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure he wasn’t needed elsewhere and noticed that Andrew McHale, the fire investigator, had arrived. Before he could point him out, Andrew disappeared around the back of the house.

“How long will it be before we can go back in the house?” Charlotte asked. “I do hope everyone will be gone by five—that’s when Ben likes to watch Judge Judy.”

“Mom,” Olivia said, gently patting her mother’s hand. “You won’t be able to go back in the house. The kitchen’s going to need a complete overhaul. It might be several weeks before the house is livable again.”

“We can’t go back in the house?” she asked in confusion. “For several weeks? Why not?”

Mack realized that Charlotte hadn’t taken in what Olivia was saying.

“The kitchen’s been destroyed,” Will said, speaking slowly and clearly.

“I know that, dear, but the rest of the house is fine.”

“Still, you can’t live there until the damage to the kitchen has been repaired.”

“But …” Charlotte turned to Ben as if asking him to plead her case.

Mack understood that she was bewildered and uncertain; she didn’t seem to understand the gravity of what had taken place.

“But … where will we go?” Charlotte asked helplessly.

“Depending on the type of insurance coverage you have, the company might pay for you to stay in a hotel while the repairs are made,” Mack explained.

“A hotel?” Charlotte shook her head as though the very idea was repugnant to her.

“Mom, you can stay with me,” Will said. “I’m close to the house and—”

“Not a good idea, Will,” Olivia cut in. “You’re living at the art gallery. That’s no place for Mom and Ben. They’ll stay with Jack and me.”

The moment Olivia mentioned her husband’s name, he drove up—almost as though he’d been summoned. The town’s newspaper editor, Jack Griffin also did reporting duty when required; in this case he would have recognized the address. Accompanied by a cameraman, Jack headed in their direction, his ever-present raincoat billowing out from his sides as he strode across the lawn.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I called this meeting,” he said, introducing a bit of humor.

Mack smothered a laugh.

“Jack, this is no time to joke,” Olivia said, then hugged him. She seemed relieved that he’d come.

“Oh, Jack, they say we can’t go back inside,” Charlotte wailed. “I’m afraid this is all my fault.”

“No one’s blaming you,” Will said.

“I want Mom and Ben to come home with us until the house is repaired,” Olivia insisted.

“By all means.” Jack reached for his reporter’s pad, a spiral-bound notebook, and had his cameraman get photos of the firefighters as they prepared to leave.

“Jack!” Olivia glared at her husband.

“What?”

“You’re not going to interview my mother, are you? Can’t you see she’s distraught?”

“Ah …” Jack Griffin had the good grace to look sheepishly at his mother-in-law. “I am a reporter, Olivia, and this is news.”

“I don’t mind, dear,” Charlotte said, placating her daughter by patting her arm. “Ben was our hero, saving Harry and me and … oh, dear. Where is Harry?”

“We’ll look for him, Mom.” She turned to her husband. “Why don’t you talk to Mack,” Olivia suggested. “He can explain about the fire.”

Mack shook his head. It would be more appropriate if Jack talked to the squad commander. “I’m sure Chief Nelson would be happy to answer your questions.” He motioned toward him, and Jack left them, hurrying toward Chief Nelson, pen in hand.

Mack saw Jack scribbling furiously during his conversation with the chief, nodding several times. Once he glanced over his shoulder at his mother-in-law and frowned, which told Mack that the cause of the fire had most likely been attributed to Charlotte—just as he’d guessed. She must have been distracted and left something, maybe the soup she’d mentioned, on the stove. He remembered that she’d talked about reading a magazine.

“You’ll be coming home with us,” Olivia was saying when Mack returned his attention to Ben and Charlotte.

“But, Olivia …”

“Mom, you can’t stay here and you can’t stay with Will. Where would you sleep?”

“It would probably be best if you went with Olivia,” Will concurred as Ben nodded. “My apartment’s pretty small with only the one bedroom. I’d sleep on the sofa if necessary, but frankly, it makes more sense for you to go home with Olivia.”

Charlotte nodded. “I’ll need to collect a few things. Ben,” she said, “will you find Harry?”

“I’ll go in with you,” Mack offered. “It’s better if you don’t go anywhere close to the kitchen until after the fire investigator’s had a chance to finish his report and the insurance people have come by.”

Then Mack joined Ben in looking for the cat. They found him a few minutes later, cowering under the front porch.

“It’s all my fault,” Charlotte was saying when they returned, shaking her head as if to erase the memory of that afternoon. “Harry!” She held out her arms for the cat. “Oh, my sweetie …” She nuzzled his broad head and then raised her eyes to Olivia. “I’m still not clear on what happened….”

“Don’t worry, Mom.”

“If Ben and I are going to be with you for several weeks, I’ll help you as much as I can,” Charlotte promised. “I’ll clean and cook and I won’t be a bother.”

“Mom, you’d never be a bother.”

“I’ll bake for Jack,” she said, her eyes lighting up with anticipation. “You know how he enjoys my baking.”

“Jack doesn’t need you baking for him, Mom.”

“Then I’ll cook him a pot roast. Jack’s fond of my pot roasts.”

“Jack’s fond of food, Mom,” Olivia said. “The fact is, I can’t think of a single thing you cook that he doesn’t dig into like a starving man.”

Charlotte beamed with pride. “Jack’s a man of discriminating taste. Haven’t I always said so?”

“Indeed.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mom, Mack and I’ll help you and Ben collect what you need, starting with the cat carrier. Then we’ll go to our house.”

“You’re sure about this?” Charlotte asked.

“Very sure,” Olivia said, and slid one arm around her mother’s waist.

Ben and Charlotte Rhodes would be fine, Mack mused as he followed them. They had family.




Three


Chad Timmons paced his Tacoma apartment and was so deep in thought, he nearly collided with the wall. That just proved it—the woman drove him to distraction. From the moment he’d met Gloria Ashton, it’d been an on-again, off-again relationship. Like some unpredictable wind, she blew hot and then cold. The worst of it was he’d put up with it. Well, he’d had about all he could take. He refused to play her games anymore—and that was what they were. Games. As far as he could see, there was no way he could win because she kept changing the rules. One day she wanted nothing to do with him. The next, she couldn’t keep her hands off him.

Fine. He’d decided he was finished. And he’d stuck to that. Until Roy McAfee had hurtled into his life like a meteorite on its passage to earth. The crater that blast had left was deep enough to bury him.

Gloria was pregnant—with his baby. He was about to become a father.

Talk about changing the rules …

It all added up now. After they’d spent the night together, Chad had felt so sure they could resolve their differences. He was high on love, his head in the clouds, like some sappy walking cliché. The shock of her taking off without a word had made him feel bereft and stupid. Oh, she’d written a note, but that had explained nothing.

So he’d vowed that if this was how she felt, he’d deal with it. He was finished. Chad had resigned from his position at the Cedar Cove Medical Clinic, moved to Tacoma and accepted a job as an emergency room physician. He’d even started dating someone else. Joni Atkins was a lot less volatile and a lot more decisive.

A baby.

Even now, Chad had difficulty coping with Roy’s news. If he was shocked, he could imagine Gloria’s reaction. Her feelings about him, and about a future with him, seemed tentative, ambivalent at best. She’d moved into the Puget Sound area a few years ago to search for her birth parents. Her adoptive parents had been killed in a small-plane crash and she was virtually without family. Then Gloria discovered something that had completely unsettled her. Her birth parents had eventually married and she had a full sister and brother. She’d told him all that on their first night together—which was also the night they’d met. Their relationship had moved from being strangers to being intimate with reckless speed. That embarrassed Gloria and, frankly, him, too. Chad knew better. So did Gloria. Afterward she’d asked for time to connect with her birth family. She’d done that but nothing had changed. Every advance Chad made was met with stiff resistance. Then it happened again. She’d agreed to a date, and they ended up in bed, which was followed by embarrassment and regret on Gloria’s part. Again.

Now Gloria was pregnant.

She hadn’t told him, although now he assumed she’d come to break the news the day she’d met him in the hospital parking lot. How was he to know what she’d intended? As far as he was concerned, they were finished. That seemed to be what she’d requested; according to the note she’d left him, she wanted nothing more to do with him. If she’d changed her mind, it was too late, or so he’d felt at the time. He’d moved on and he’d advised her to do the same.

Roy, Gloria’s birth father, had taken a tremendous risk by coming to see him. Gloria had asked that Chad be kept in the dark regarding the pregnancy, and Corrie, her birth mother, had agreed. But not Roy.

Years earlier Corrie McAfee had become pregnant while in college. Roy hadn’t learned he was a father until after his daughter had been adopted. Apparently it remained a sore point between Gloria’s birth parents. Roy wasn’t willing to let history repeat itself, although Corrie felt the choice should be Gloria’s alone. Going against his wife’s and daughter’s wishes, Roy made sure Chad knew about the baby.

Chad hadn’t decided yet what he should do. He worried that Gloria, who worked as a sheriff’s deputy, might undergo too much stress in her normal job; she needed to be on desk duty. He wanted to talk to her, explain how important it was that she look after herself by eating right, taking appropriate prenatal vitamins, seeing her doctor regularly. While rationally he recognized that she was undoubtedly doing all those things, he couldn’t help wanting confirmation.

Chad reached for his car keys. It’d been several weeks since his life was turned upside down and, so far, he’d done nothing other than rage about the situation, agonize over it and try to settle on some course of action. The time had come to do something.

As he drove into Cedar Cove, Chad stopped at the local bookstore and picked up a baby name book, and a few others he often recommended to his patients. Perhaps that was a waste of money, since Gloria might already own these books, but he didn’t care. It made him feel better. Knowing she didn’t want to see him, Chad thought he’d ask Roy McAfee to give her the books.

He got the address for the private investigator’s office from the business card Roy had left him. Parking on the steep hill, Chad looked down at the waterfront, which bustled with activity on this beautiful September day. Cedar Cove had been his home for five years and he hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

The totem pole at the library caught his eye. Its eagle’s wings were spread wide as though embracing the entire community. He’d enjoyed spending lunch hours at the waterfront park. Visiting the Saturday market had been another favorite activity; he remembered buying produce so fresh soil still clung to the roots. He saw a couple of kayakers paddling near the marina, their smooth, even strokes sending out ripples behind them. Harbor Street was busy, too, with late-afternoon shoppers and people leaving work.

Chad dragged in a deep breath before he tore his gaze away from the scene below. Shoulders squared, he walked toward Roy’s office and stepped inside.

The front desk sat empty. A few chairs were lined up against the wall in the waiting area and an end table held a number of outdated magazines.

“Mack, is that you?” Roy McAfee called from the inner office.

Chad followed the sound of the other man’s voice. “It’s Chad Timmons,” he said, and let himself into the office. He stood in the doorway, uncertain of his reception.

“Chad.” McAfee rose from his chair and extended his hand. “Good to see you. I was wondering how long it would take you to show up.”

“Probably longer than it should have,” Chad confessed. He sank into the chair across from McAfee and set the bag of books on the carpet. The office was sparsely decorated. A desk, a leather chair and a couple of bookcases. The walls were bare except for a large map of the town.

“I guess my news was a bit jarring.”

Chad snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.” Then, because he had to know, he asked, “How’s Gloria feeling?”

“From what Corrie tells me, she’s been suffering from morning sickness, but other than that she appears to be doing well.” He paused and added, “But then I’m not my wife’s favorite person at the moment. She hasn’t quite found it in her heart to forgive me for contacting you.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not your problem.” Roy dismissed Chad’s comment with a wave of his hand.

“Does Gloria know that I know about the baby?”

Roy leaned forward, shaking his head. “I haven’t said anything and I doubt Corrie has, either.”

“In other words, probably not.”

Roy nodded. “That would be my take on it.”

No surprise there. “I have something I’d like you to give her.” He lifted the sack of books.

Roy regarded the bag and then turned his attention back to Chad. “Are you sure you don’t want to give those to her yourself?”

Chad wasn’t sure of anything. “For now I think it might be best if I stayed in the background. From what Gloria said, she doesn’t want anything to do with me. So it makes more sense for you to do it.”

Roy didn’t respond for several seconds, studying Chad intently. “I don’t agree with you,” he finally said.

The front door opened. “Dad?”

Roy got to his feet. “In here.”

Mack McAfee barged into the office and stopped abruptly when he saw Chad. “Sorry, am I interrupting anything?” he asked, glancing from one to the other.

“Not at all,” his father said, reclaiming his seat.

Mack’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve met, right?”

Chad nodded.

Mack took the chair next to him. “Ah, yes, I remember now. You dated my sister Linnette.”

“Briefly.” That whole scenario had been a disaster, and it had complicated everything else. While Gloria was building a relationship with the sister who didn’t know they were even related, Linnette had developed a crush on Chad. Seeing how Linnette felt about him, Gloria had steered clear.

“Chad asked me to deliver some books to Gloria,” his father explained.

“Gloria?” Mack swiveled his head to look at Chad. “Why Gloria?”

“Actually, I’ve … dated her, too.”

Mack grinned. “It seems you get around.”

Chad responded with a weak smile. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”

“I didn’t know my sister was big on reading,” Mack said, relaxing in his chair, balancing one ankle on the opposite knee. “And if you’re dating Gloria, why don’t you give her the books yourself?”

“These are a baby name book and a couple on pregnancy,” Chad said.

“What?” Mack dropped his leg to the floor. “You and Gloria? Are you telling me you’re—this baby is yours?”

Chad merely nodded.

For an instant Mack didn’t seem to know how to react. Conflicting emotions showed on his face—anger chased by confusion and then indecision.

“Believe me, it came as a shock to me, too,” Chad said, sharing a smile with Roy.

“But … but you’re a … a physician.” Mack stumbled over the words. “If anyone should understand about birth control, it’s you!”

“Again, I’m in full agreement,” Chad said. “It just happened.”

“‘It just happened’ has got to be the most pathetic excuse in the book. What do you intend to do about this?” Mack demanded.

Mack’s anger was justified, and Chad took it to heart. “That depends on Gloria. At this point she isn’t aware I know about the baby.”

“Why not?”

Mack glared at him and Chad looked over at Roy, hoping he’d supply the answer.

“The thing is, your sister specifically asked that Chad not be told. Your mother agreed to that, but I refused.”

“So you went behind Mom’s back?” Mack shook his head as if he already knew the answer and disapproved. “And Gloria’s!”

“I told your mother exactly what I was doing. She wasn’t happy about it. In fact, she still isn’t.” Roy leaned back in his chair, frowning. “I’ll take the books to Gloria and explain that I told you about the baby.”

Chad scowled. He wasn’t ready for Gloria to find that out….

“It’s time I told my daughter I went to see you.”

“Don’t,” Chad said bluntly. “Not yet.”

Roy blinked at him. “Why not?”

Chad tried to clarify his thoughts. “For one thing, I want Gloria to come to me. At some stage she’s going to realize she needs me. If for nothing more than signing the adoption papers. Times have changed, Roy. Fathers have rights, too. Besides, I’m thinking about raising the baby myself.” The idea had only occurred to him a few days ago. He wasn’t committed to it yet, but the possibility was gaining strength in his mind.

“Wait—Gloria’s decided to give the baby up for adoption?” Mack asked. He clenched his fists and stared hard at his father. “You wouldn’t let her do that, would you?”

“It isn’t our decision,” Roy reminded him.

“Yes, but … Okay, fine, whatever, but before that happens Mary Jo and I will raise the baby,” Mack said in clipped tones. “If Chad doesn’t want to do it.” He obviously considered Chad capable of shirking what he himself saw as a duty. “This child is our family’s flesh and blood.”

“More mine than yours,” Chad murmured. But no use debating the issue until they learned Gloria’s intentions.

Roy seemed slightly amused by Mack’s reaction. “Don’t you think you should talk this over with Mary Jo first before you make that kind of offer?”

“She’ll agree with me.”

“It’s a moot point,” Chad said. “No one knows what Gloria’s going to do. Once she’s made her decision, we may need to talk again.”

Both men nodded.

“For now, all I ask,” Chad said, “is for one of you or even Corrie to see that Gloria gets these books.”

“Who should I say gave them to her?” Roy asked.

Chad shrugged. “Let her assume they came from you.”

“You’re sure about this?” Mack asked.

“Very sure. I want—no, I need—Gloria to come to me. She’s the one who walked away. Maybe it’s just my pride talking, I don’t know, but I’d be more comfortable if she made the first move.”

Roy allowed Chad’s words to hang in the air for a moment before he responded. “I’ll hold off a bit longer if that’s what you want. However, for the sake of my relationship with my wife, I think it might be a good idea if I confessed sooner rather than later.”

Chad understood. “Okay. Go ahead and tell Gloria.” He didn’t like it but Roy had done him one favor already.

“I’ll take the books to her,” Mack volunteered. “We’ve had a couple of good talks recently.”

“Oh?” Roy raised his brows in question.

Chad was curious, too, although it wasn’t his place to ask.

“Gloria had to tell Sheriff Davis she’s pregnant, and as of next week she’s going on desk duty.” Chad was relieved to hear it. However, Mack looked away as he spoke, which led Chad to believe there was more to this than he was saying.

“Any particular reason?”

“Well, it’s standard protocol for pregnant officers.” Mack shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with this turn in the conversation. “But, okay, the fact is that Gloria’s in her mid-thirties, so the obstetrician is being extra cautious.”

“Has she told her mother about this?” Roy asked.

“I believe so.”

Roy sighed, and Chad guessed that Corrie hadn’t said anything to Roy because she was still upset with him.

“The doctor’s scheduled an ultrasound.”

“For when?” Chad did his best to hide his own anxiety. He’d dealt with a lot of pregnancies and a lot of babies during his medical career—but none of those babies had been his. And although he was well aware that many women had babies later in life, he couldn’t help worrying about Gloria.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Can’t because you don’t know? Or because she’d disapprove?” Chad asked sharply.

“Can’t because I don’t know. It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” Mack said. “At least as far as I’ve been given to understand. It’s just that when it’s someone close to you, I guess you worry more. But at least she’ll be sitting safely behind a desk from now on.”

Knowing Gloria, she’d hate desk duty. She liked nothing better than being a beat cop, responding to calls and crises, interacting with the people of Cedar Cove. Chad found it interesting that she’d gone into police work, following in the footsteps of the father she never knew.

“Do you want me to call you if she mentions when the ultrasound is?”

Chad nodded.

“Don’t worry, son,” Roy said, his words and the sound of his voice lending Chad confidence. “Everything will work out. It did for Corrie and me, and I’m convinced it will for you and Gloria, too.”

Chad relaxed in his chair. He had to believe Roy was right and there was actually a chance for him and Gloria.




Four


It’d been a week since Rachel had moved out of the house, and Bruce was stunned that she hadn’t returned. He’d tried to be patient, giving her the space and time she claimed she needed. But he wanted her back with him and Jolene now, back where she belonged. The knot in his stomach hadn’t disappeared yet, and it wouldn’t, not until she came home.

Bruce still didn’t know where she’d gone. He’d talked to her friends. Even Teri seemed bewildered about where she was, and her words rang true. Rachel’s best friend was clearly very concerned about her.

“Dad, can you help me with this?” Jolene asked, strolling into the kitchen, a math book clutched to her chest. She’d been lounging in the backyard under a big striped umbrella, talking on her cell phone and pretending to do her homework.

Bruce looked up from the table where he’d been sitting. “You know I’m no good at this.” The real problem, however, was his short fuse. He had limited patience when it came to explaining basic math. Computer programs were a different matter. Those he knew his way around; it was the theoretical stuff that stumped him— partly for lack of interest. Things had been a lot better when Rachel was there to step in.

“Dad, this is just review. You helped me last year, remember?” She cocked her head to one side, her dark brown eyes pleading with him. “I passed the test. I never would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

“That wasn’t me,” he reminded her. “It was Rachel.”

Her smile instantly disappeared. “No, it wasn’t. You helped me. I wouldn’t let Rachel anywhere near my homework.”

“Actually, you did,” he said a bit more forcefully. He remembered the incident well. Jolene had brought him her algebra homework and he’d tried to work with her. Only when it became apparent that he wasn’t particularly clear on the concept himself would his daughter accept Rachel’s assistance. What stood out in his mind was how well the evening had gone. The tension between Jolene and his wife had lessened, giving both him and Rachel hope that the girl was finally adjusting to their marriage.

“You could at least try,” Jolene snapped.

“Okay, fine, I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, all sweetness once again.

The phone rang as Jolene set her textbook on the table and Bruce leaped out of his chair, hoping, praying, it was Rachel. She’d called a couple of times, but their conversations were always short, consisting of her reassurances that she was fine and her avoidance of any real answers. She’d blocked his numbers so he couldn’t get in touch with her. If it was Rachel, he was willing to promise her anything as long as she came home. He loved her and missed her. He’d agreed earlier to see a counselor but Jolene wouldn’t hear of it, and Bruce had foolishly put it off. He was embarrassed by the thought of spilling out their troubles to a stranger. He’d assumed everything would right itself, but he’d been wrong and his gamble had cost him dearly.

“Hello,” he said, grabbing the phone, his heart bounding into his throat.

“This is David Miller,” intoned the recorded message, “and I’m running for state senator. Are you tired of runaway government spending? If that’s the case, I need your vote—”

Bruce disconnected the line before he heard any more. He kept his hand on the receiver and hung his head, fighting back his disappointment.

“Dad,” Jolene muttered. “You wanted that call to be Rachel, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to deny it.

“We don’t need her,” Jolene insisted, looking up at him from the kitchen table. “It’s been a lot better since she left. I’ve made dinner all week, haven’t I?”

Bruce didn’t agree or disagree. Jolene had done her best to fill in, and while the meals weren’t always palatable, his daughter had tried.

“I know I overcooked the macaroni and cheese.”

“I hardly noticed,” he said, and it was true because he’d covered the entire plate with ketchup.

“The meat loaf was good, wasn’t it?”

“You did an excellent job.” Not exactly, but at least he’d found it edible, again with the addition of ketchup.

Jolene beamed with pride. “Like I said, we don’t need Rachel.”

It wasn’t Rachel’s cooking Bruce missed, it was Rachel herself. He missed holding her in his arms and chatting in bed. He missed pressing his hand over her stomach and silently transmitting his love and excitement to their baby. He missed Rachel’s smile when he walked into the house at the end of the day and the way she hugged him, welcoming him home. They’d only been married a short while and yet Rachel had filled every nook and cranny of his world. He hadn’t realized how alone and lonely he’d been until she’d come into his life. Without her nothing felt right.

“Dad, my homework, remember?”

“Yeah.” He’d do his best but he wished Rachel was the one helping Jolene….

It took him nearly an hour. He wasn’t a natural teacher and had to grit his teeth several times, but made it through the ordeal without losing his patience. Still, once he’d finished, Bruce was cranky and ready for bed.

Walking into his room, he looked despairingly at the crumpled sheets and the bedspread, which had slipped off and pooled on the carpet. Rachel made the bed every morning before she left for the salon. Apparently the aunt who’d raised her had insisted on it, and the habit had stuck. Then every night Rachel would remove the decorative pillows and neatly fold back the covers. The twisted and disheveled bedding depressed Bruce. He sagged onto the end of the mattress and came to a decision.

He was going to the salon tomorrow, and he’d try his hardest to talk Rachel into giving him a second chance. He had to believe she missed him as much as he missed her. Surely she’d want to come home. That belief was the only thing that got him through the day.

Friday morning, Bruce woke in good spirits. He had coffee brewing and Jolene’s glass of orange juice poured before his daughter even wandered out of her bedroom.

She stared at him a moment before taking her glass off the counter. “You seem to be in a happy mood this morning.”

“Do I?” He was seeing Rachel today and he couldn’t help feeling a sense of anticipation.

“Dad …” Jolene regarded him skeptically. “You aren’t going to see Rachel, are you?”

He didn’t answer.

“She’s the one who left us, remember? If she wanted to come back she would have by now, don’t you think?”

Bruce ignored his daughter. “Do you have your lunch money?”

“Quit avoiding the subject.”

“I have to leave now or I’ll be late for my first appointment.”

“Dad!”

Bruce wasn’t listening. He scooped up his keys and headed out the door, letting Jolene precede him. If he stopped work at four, which he fully intended to do, then he should be at the salon no later than four-thirty. He was his own boss and set his own hours. While he did his utmost to keep his computer clients happy, he had his priorities. Oh, yes, he’d see Rachel, and once she heard how desperately he missed her, how much he needed her, she’d move back home. Bruce couldn’t wait. He found himself humming, but stopped when he caught Jolene scowling at him. He didn’t care, but he didn’t want to set her off, either.

At four o’clock sharp, Bruce was in his car, driving back into Cedar Cove after finishing an on-site call in Gig Harbor.

He parked in the lot outside the shopping mall, and ran his fingers through his hair. He needed a haircut. Rachel had been cutting his hair for the past few years. Jolene’s, too. Sooner or later his daughter would realize how much Rachel added to their lives—and it was a lot more than free haircuts! He just hoped Jolene smartened up soon.

He chose the entrance closest to the Get Nailed salon. The salon storefront looked out on the mall and for several minutes Bruce stood there and simply watched Rachel work. His heart felt like it might pound straight out of his chest. He loved his wife.

A moment later, Rachel must have felt his stare because she turned and their eyes met. The brush she held dropped to the floor. She’d lost weight, Bruce noticed, which wasn’t good. It told him she wasn’t eating enough and that the pregnancy was taking a toll on her health.

His first instinct was to chastise her for not looking after herself. She also seemed exceptionally pale. Stephanie, when she was pregnant with Jolene, had suffered from an iron deficiency and Bruce wondered if that was the case with Rachel, too.

While Bruce waited, Rachel finished with her client, then met him just inside the salon doors.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered before he’d had a chance to greet her.

“Shouldn’t it be obvious?” he returned, unable to take his eyes off her. “I came to see you.”

“You said you wouldn’t.”

“I did?” Bruce didn’t remember that. If so, he’d agreed under duress and had since changed his mind, although he said none of that. “I miss you,” he whispered, and reached for her hand.

Rachel looked down, but not before he saw tears in her eyes. “I miss you, too.”

“Come home, Rachel,” he pleaded as his thumb stroked the top of her hand. “I’ll do whatever you ask. Just come home.”

“I wish it was that easy.”

“But it is.”

“Jolene—”

Rachel had barely begun to speak when his daughter rounded the corner with two of her schoolfriends.

“I thought so!” Jolene yelled, hands on her hips. Bruce recognized the girls, although he couldn’t recall their names. “I knew you were coming to see Rachel.”

Next she glared at Rachel. “I don’t care what my dad says, I don’t want you in our house ever again.”

“Jolene!” Bruce snapped. “You’re being rude and your behavior is unacceptable. This is between Rachel and me. Now please leave. We’ll talk later,” he said in as ominous a tone as he could manage.

“I have as much of a right to be here as anyone.” Her eyes sparked with indignation. She was obviously drawing strength from the presence of her friends, who stood with her, forming a silent barrier. Turning to confront Rachel, Jolene continued, “Having you out of the house has been great and I don’t want you back.”

“Jolene, stop right this minute!” Bruce shouted. He lunged and grabbed his daughter by the shoulders. “I told you, this is between Rachel and me!”

“No, it isn’t,” his daughter insisted. “I live in the house, too, and it’s either me or Rachel because if she comes back, then I’m leaving.”

That was an empty threat if there ever was one. “And where exactly would you go?”

“I’ll run away.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Rachel cried, covering her mouth as she struggled to hold back a sob.

Jane, the salon manager, approached them. “I’d appreciate it if the three of you would take this elsewhere. We have customers here, and you’re causing a scene.”

Until then Bruce hadn’t realized that there were two or three ladies in the waiting area a few feet away. His focus had been on Rachel to the exclusion of everyone else—until Jolene arrived.

Taking his wife’s hand, Bruce led her out of the salon, although they remained in full view of the customers. In fact, they were attracting a lot of attention—and not just from Get Nailed. Everyone in the mall seemed to be staring at them.

Rachel noticed this, as well. “I think it would be best if you all just left,” she said, avoiding eye contact. Then she raised her head to meet Jolene’s gaze.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Bruce muttered. “If anyone needs to go, it’s Jolene and her entourage.” He looked pointedly at his daughter, demanding that she give him some privacy.

Jolene folded her arms rebelliously and refused to budge. “No way.”

“Just go,” Rachel pleaded, easing away from Bruce. “Like Jane said, you’re causing a scene.”

“I don’t care.” He ignored his daughter and focused on Rachel. He understood now that he hadn’t really grasped the extent of Jolene’s selfishness. He didn’t know how his daughter’s dislike of Rachel had reached this point. Nor did he know what had torn the two of them apart in the first place. At one time they’d been so close.…

“Don’t worry, Jolene,” Rachel said. “You can have your father all to yourself.”

His daughter’s smile could have lit up the entire mall. “Good.” To his shock, she and her posse of friends exchanged high fives.

With that, Rachel started to walk away, then apparently had a change of heart because she turned back. “Bruce, it would be better if you didn’t come here again.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“If you do show up, I’ll get a job somewhere else. This is embarrassing to me and the salon.”

Bruce shook his head, unwilling to stay away.

“If anything like this happens again, Jane’s going to find an excuse to fire me.”

Bruce had trouble believing that. But before he could respond, his daughter grabbed his hand. “Let’s go,” she said. “We don’t need Rachel.”

“I need Rachel,” he countered, pulling his hand free. “And our baby needs his or her father.”

“What about me?” Jolene demanded. “What about my needs?”

Rachel’s eyes locked with his. “Don’t come back here.”

“Okay, fine, but we need to talk.”

“No, you don’t,” Jolene inserted.

“Jolene, leave me and Rachel alone,” Bruce said furiously. He refused to have her interfering in his life like this. It was time she recognized her role in the breakup of his marriage. And, he told himself, it was time he admitted that he’d allowed her to do the damage she had.

“We need to talk,” he said again, wanting Rachel to know how important she was to him. Somehow, some way, they’d find a solution.

“No.” Rachel’s voice was adamant. “If this … incident today did anything, it solidified my reasons for leaving. I won’t go back to a house filled with tension and strife. It isn’t good for me or the pregnancy.”

“What about—”

Bruce didn’t get a chance to finish as Rachel left him standing in the center of the mall with a dozen faces staring at him.

“Come on, Dad,” Jolene said, all sweetness now. “Let’s go home.”

Bruce couldn’t bear to even look at his daughter. If he opened his mouth, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to curb his anger. So he simply turned and walked away.




Five


“Mom, you’re wearing that goofy look again,” Tanni Bliss said as she strolled into the kitchen and selected an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.

“What look?” Shirley asked, although she knew exactly what her daughter meant. She’d just spent nearly two hours on the phone with Larry Knight, a nationally renowned artist—and the man she was now seeing. Although “seeing” wasn’t quite the right term, considering how much he traveled. They’d met at the Seattle Art Museum a few months earlier and been in frequent touch ever since.

Larry was a widower of five years’ standing, while Shirley had lost her husband to a motorcycle accident the January before last. She’d thought she’d never recover after Jim’s death. She’d been convinced that falling in love again was out of the question.

Then she’d met Larry…. The problem was that he lived in California and traveled a great deal—with his art exhibits, doing the lecture circuit, taking part in panels and interviews. They spoke every day now and emailed between conversations. They saw each other whenever possible, which wasn’t nearly often enough to suit either of them.

“So, where’s Larry now?” Tanni asked.

“He’s in New Mexico.” He might as well be on the moon. Without email and phone calls, she felt she’d slowly go insane. Or maybe not so slowly! She’d forgotten what it was like to fall in love. She’d been a college student when she met and married Jim. He’d been in the air force at the time and was about to be discharged. Eager to get on with an airline, Jim had set his sights on living in the Pacific Northwest. Once she’d visited the Seattle area, Shirley had agreed. This would be a lovely place to live and raise their children.

After Jim had been hired by Alaska Airlines, they’d settled in Cedar Cove and turned the basement of their large sprawling home into a studio for Shirley. She would’ve been content to remain exactly where she was for the rest of her days. Until the accident.

And, even then, she couldn’t imagine moving. But she’d met Larry, and that changed everything.

“When are you two getting married?” Tanni asked, breaking into her musings.

“Married!” Shirley gasped. “We hardly know each other.”

“Oh, come on, Mom. You haven’t been yourself ever since the day you first laid eyes on him.”

No use denying the obvious. “I know.”

“It’s not like I haven’t noticed. You’re crazy about Larry.”

“True.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“Well, for one thing, Larry hasn’t asked.”

“Oh?” Tanni made it sound like she had insider information.

Shirley was tempted to ask if her daughter knew something she didn’t. Larry and Tanni chatted frequently, although she assumed her daughter had been looking for information about Shaw, the boy she’d once dated. The boy Larry had assisted in securing a place at the art institute in San Francisco.

“Has … has he mentioned that he’s going to ask me to marry him?” Shirley didn’t make eye contact. She felt guilty for even asking.

“No.”

So much for that.

“But if he did propose, what would you say?” Tanni asked.

Her daughter was teasing her. Playing along, she shrugged as if the question was of no real concern. “I’d probably tell him it was too soon and we should date a year or two first.”

Tanni burst out laughing. “You’re joking.”

She was, but that was irrelevant. Larry hadn’t proposed and, even if he did, it would be far too soon to make such a major decision. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could just move to California. Tanni had a year of high school left, and Shirley’s home and life were here in Cedar Cove.

“I’m not joking,” Shirley said. “What are your plans this weekend?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.

“I thought I’d get together with Kristen and then we might hang with Jeremy.”

At one time Kristen had been Tanni’s sworn enemy. Shirley hadn’t understood her daughter’s intense dislike of the other girl. She suspected it was because Kristen was blonde, beautiful and extremely popular. Boys were drawn to her in a way Tanni seemed to find foreign. Shirley wondered if her daughter resented that she’d only had one boyfriend in her whole life and that relationship was unraveling. Tanni had felt powerless; she hadn’t wanted to lose Shaw, although in retrospect it was the best thing for both of them. They were too young and far too emotionally dependant on each other.

“Are you and Jeremy an item now or—”

“Mom,” Tanni cut her off. “First of all, item is totally dated. Also, we’ve talked a couple of times and that’s it. Don’t go making more out of it than there is, okay?” Her voice rang with irritation, a tone that was familiar from the weeks and months following Jim’s death.

Shirley instantly backed away from the sensitive topic. “Miranda and I were talking about seeing a movie.”

At the mention of Shirley’s best friend, Tanni grinned.

“What’s so funny?” Shirley asked.

“Miranda.”

“What about her?” She and Miranda had been friends for years. Miranda was a widow, too; she’d been married to an artist, which was one reason she understood Shirley’s artistic temperament. Shirley had fun with Miranda and appreciated her encouragement, her loyalty and support. Miranda could be opinionated and headstrong, but that didn’t bother Shirley. If they didn’t agree, Shirley had no problem either arguing with Miranda or ignoring her views.

“I think Miranda likes Will Jefferson,” Tanni commented.

Miranda had recently taken a part-time job with Will at the gallery. The fact that she’d even accepted the position had surprised Shirley, since Will and Miranda seemed to disagree on almost everything—and not in a friendly way, either.

If what Tanni said was true, and Shirley strongly suspected it was, poor Miranda was setting herself up for heartache. Shirley had recognized the type of man Will Jefferson was ten seconds into their first meeting. Will was all about Will, as Tanni might have put it. Handsome and charming, he was accustomed to having women fawn over him. More than that, he’d come to expect it.

Shirley had to admit Miranda didn’t possess the classic beauty that typically appealed to men like Will Jefferson. Tall and solidly built, Miranda easily stood five-eleven, and with heels—although she rarely wore anything but sensible shoes—she was over six feet tall.

Shirley felt that Will’s usual preference was an empty-headed woman so he could be her intellectual superior. Miranda was his equal in every way. The fact that Will had made a blatant play for Shirley was—to her mind—more of an insult than a compliment.

Even Tanni had picked up on Miranda’s interest in him and Shirley worried for her friend. She doubted that Miranda was prepared for a Will Jefferson or the effect he might have on her emotions.

“What movie are you going to see?” Tanni asked, unaware of the thoughts swirling around in Shirley’s head.

“We haven’t decided yet.”

“I’ll be home before ten,” Tanni said, reaching for her car keys. She was out the door, munching on the apple as she went.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot she’d made earlier, Shirley sat down at the kitchen table, wondering what to do with this unwelcome information. If she said anything to Miranda, it would only embarrass her friend. And any warning about Will would likely be dismissed out of hand.

Shirley glanced at her watch and, noticing the time, quickly got up from her chair. Taking one last sip, she left the mug in the kitchen sink, hurried to change her clothes and freshen her makeup, then headed out the door. She was supposed to meet Miranda at the Harbor Street Art Gallery at three-thirty.

The drive took less than ten minutes. When she stepped into the gallery, the first thing she heard was Miranda’s raised voice. “I’m telling you, the Chandler painting will look better on this wall,” she was saying.

“No! It’d be better there,” Will Jefferson said, just as heatedly.

“Hello?” Shirley called out.

Miranda responded immediately. “Shirley, come over here. We need your opinion.”

Great. Now she was going to be drawn into this argument, too. She walked toward them and glanced at the painting that seemed to be the subject of their disagreement. “Are you ready for the movie, Miranda?” she asked, hoping to avoid taking sides.

“Look at this,” Miranda insisted, gesturing at the watercolor.

The piece was stunning, the color choices vibrant and inviting. It portrayed a young girl in a blue cotton summer dress, biking past a white picket fence in a seashore town. A wide variety of flowers bloomed along the fence line. The girl’s innocence was in subtle contrast to her unconscious feminine appeal. In style, it was naturalistic but its shimmering colors were influenced by classic Impressionism. “This is a lovely work.”

“I agree,” Will said, speaking for the first time. “And I want it displayed in the way that will benefit it the most.”

“I think it should be on this wall and Will says—quite irrationally, I believe—that it should be there.” Miranda indicated the opposite side of the gallery.

“Irrational,” Will repeated from between clenched teeth. “If anyone’s irrational, it’s you. If we hang the painting on the wall I suggest, it’ll be the first thing people see when they enter the gallery.”

“This wall reveals it in the best light,” Miranda countered.

“You both have valid points,” Shirley said when they turned to her. “Why don’t you compromise?”

“No.” Will shook his head. “This is my gallery, despite what Miranda seems to think, and we’ll do this my way because—” he paused “—I’m the boss.” This was said in a challenging voice, as if he expected Miranda to resign. As if he wanted her to.

“Fine. Hang it wherever you like,” Miranda said, brushing her hands in exasperation.

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

Miranda sighed and, ignoring Will, said, “Have you ever noticed how important it is to the fragile male ego to have the last word?”

Shirley tried to disguise a smile, but Will obviously wasn’t amused.

He bristled. “That is categorically untrue.”

Motioning with her head, Miranda seemed to imply that his statement only proved her point.

“Are you ready to go now?” Shirley asked.

“Be right with you.” Miranda disappeared around the corner and returned an instant later with her purse and raincoat.

“Which movie are you going to?” Will asked Shirley conversationally.

“Not sure yet.”

“Well, have fun.”

“We will,” Miranda muttered.

He walked them to the door. “I’ve got you on the schedule for Monday,” he said.

“Monday?” Miranda frowned. “I thought I only worked Tuesday, Friday and Saturday.”

“Would you mind filling in for me? I’m meeting with the insurance people on behalf of my mother and Ben.”

“No, of course I don’t mind, but I would’ve appreciated knowing about it sooner.”

“Sorry. I forgot to mention it.”

They stared at each other and then Miranda nodded. “I’ll be here at ten.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said brusquely.

As they made their way to her car, Shirley considered Tanni’s observation about Miranda’s feelings for Will. She also suspected that, despite their bickering, he was actually fond of her—and maybe he respected her more than he let on. He’d certainly come to rely on her.

“Did you choose a movie?” Miranda asked. “What about the latest Matt Damon picture?”

“Sure.”

“I have the entertainment section of the paper and—” Miranda paused to look at her watch. “This is perfect. The next show starts in less than thirty minutes, which gives us time to drive there, buy our tickets and get our popcorn.”

“Sounds good.”

“Did you talk to Larry this afternoon?” Miranda asked as they got into Shirley’s car. Her own would stay at the art gallery, and Shirley would drop her off there after the movie.

“For two hours.”

“Two hours!”

Shirley laughed. Neither of them had wanted to end the conversation. “Long-distance relationships are difficult,” she said. “So, this is how we stay in touch.”

“Why don’t you just get married? I don’t know any two people better suited to each other.”

“I wish it was that easy, but I can’t uproot Tanni when she still has a year of high school.”

“Who said you had to move right away?” Miranda said.

“Well, as I told my daughter, there’s one small detail. Larry hasn’t asked and at this stage I’d be shocked if he did. I wish everyone would remember we only met a few months ago.”

“What was your phone bill last month? And his?”

Shirley rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. Okay, we spend a lot of time on the phone. Today wasn’t an exception.” Whenever he called her, whenever she called him, Shirley felt like a teenager again. Her heart would leap with joy at the sound of his voice.

They’d reached the movie complex, and Shirley parked. They purchased their tickets and popcorn and were about to enter the theater when her cell phone rang.

It was Larry, which struck her as odd, since they’d already talked that day.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked excitedly.

“No. Miranda and I are just walking into the theater.” She was juggling her popcorn, purse, drink and the cell phone, afraid of dropping one, when Miranda helped by taking the large soda out of her hands. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” She momentarily closed her eyes, trying to remember if anything was written on the kitchen calendar. “I don’t think so … Why?”

“I want you to fly down to California.”

“California? Aren’t you supposed to be in Nashville next weekend?”

“Yes, but the lecture was postponed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I want you to meet me at my home in California. I know it’s last-minute and I apologize, but I only just heard about this. Tell me you’ll be able to come.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“What about Tanni and Nick?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re available. I’ll have to check.”

“Wonderful. I want all of you to meet my children.”

“Your children,” she repeated.

“Yes, I feel they should meet the woman I intend to marry.”

Shirley froze. The bag of popcorn she held fell from her hand and spilled its contents on the floor.




Six


Linc Wyse stepped outside the Wyse Man Garage and leaned against the building. Staying inside that office a moment longer would’ve been intolerable. The bills were piling up and he had nothing to pay them with. His bank account, which had been substantial and was supposed to carry him for six months, was nearly empty.

The frustration was killing him. Marrying Lori and keeping it a secret from her family, which hadn’t been his choice but hers, had created a fierce enemy in Lori’s father. Linc had tried but he’d been unable to convince Leonard Bellamy that he loved Lori, that he hadn’t married his daughter for her money. Not that Lori had any money now, except what she earned herself. But Linc didn’t care; he never had.

Despite that, Bellamy was out to ruin him and he was close to succeeding.

As Linc stared out at the street, a familiar truck passed, slowed down and then came to a stop in front of the garage. His brother-in-law. Linc straightened when Mack McAfee rolled down the driver’s window and called out, “Hey, Linc, how’s it going?”

Linc managed a grimace that he hoped would pass for a grin. “It’s going.”

“You don’t look that busy. Do you want to join me?”

“Where are you headed?”

“Mary Jo’s working late, Noelle’s at day care and I just finished helping a friend move. A beer sounds good to me.”

“It does to me, too, but I’d better stay here in case a job comes in.” The mid-September sunshine made for a warm afternoon, not that Linc noticed the weather much. With no work, he’d sent the men home. No point in paying for idle hands—but it would be just his luck to have two or three people show up and find no one there. That was a chance he couldn’t afford to take.

“Tell you what. I’ll pick us up a six-pack and be right back.”

Mack returned within fifteen minutes, got out of his truck and handed Linc a can. They sat in the office. Leaning back in his chair, Linc pulled the tab off the cold beer and took a long swallow, enjoying the taste. “Thanks,” he said to Mack, saluting him with the beer.

Mack nodded. “Haven’t seen much of you lately,” he commented.

Linc hadn’t been getting out. He didn’t have the inclination or, these days, the extra cash. But rather than respond, he shrugged.

“You look like a man who’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.” Mack leaned back, too. “Trouble?”

Once more he answered with a shrug. He was tired of holding everything inside and yet he was used to keeping his own counsel. Fixing his own problems. But this time he couldn’t. Bellamy was blackballing him—no other word for it—and the business was sinking fast. Not even Lori knew the extent of what her father had done, nor did she fully understand their financial situation. For that he had only himself to blame. Linc had told her next to nothing about any of this. Lori was angry enough with her father. Foolish and unrealistic though it seemed now, Linc had hoped to bring father and daughter together. It’d never been his intention to drive a wedge into their already strained relationship.

“Everyone’s got trouble,” Linc replied when he realized Mack was waiting for a response.

“True, but not all trouble is created equal, if you know what I mean.”

“Right,” Linc agreed.

“I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

Linc regarded the man his sister had married. He’d liked Mack from the start, although he’d initially had doubts about their living arrangement. He’d gotten over those doubts pretty fast. A firefighter and paramedic, Mack had helped deliver Noelle, Mary Jo’s baby girl. While it had bothered him that Mary Jo didn’t live close to her family, he’d felt better knowing Mack was nearby. They’d shared a duplex, he on one side and she on the other. They’d married earlier in the year and Linc was happy for his sister.

“You might have noticed I’m not exactly overwhelmed with work here,” Linc began, finally giving in to the relief of divulging his problems to a sympathetic listener. “I’m not inexperienced in this business and I did my homework. By my calculations, I should have more repairs than I can handle.”

Mack gestured with his beer can. “Leonard Bellamy?”

Linc nodded. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t warn me.”

Mack sat up straight, his eyes slightly narrowed. “Yeah, but I don’t think I knew Bellamy wields that much power in Cedar Cove.”

“And Bremerton and all the surrounding areas, too, apparently. I couldn’t even guess what rumor he’s floating about me, but whatever it is, people in this community are buying it.”

“I suppose that’s causing problems between you and Lori.”

Linc glanced away, avoiding his brother-in-law’s eyes.

Mack nudged him. “Are you telling me she doesn’t know?”

“No one does.”

“So Lori’s in the dark about all this?”

“About almost everything.”

Mack stared at him as if he found that hard to believe. “You’ve got to be kidding, man! This is your wife. I know if I held anything back from Mary Jo, she’d be furious. That, in case you’re interested, is a lesson I learned the hard way.”

Linc gave him a brief smile. Being well-acquainted with his sister’s temper, he pitied Mack the wrath of Mary Jo.

“The Bellamys are her family,” Linc said, defending his silence. “I’m only trying to protect her.”

“Does she want to be protected?”

“Isn’t that a husband’s responsibility?”

Mack shook his head. “Not if it means keeping her ignorant of things she should know. And,” he added, “Bellamy might be her father but you’re her husband. You two are in this together—for better or worse. Remember?”

Linc would think about that, but for now he was saying nothing to Lori. They finished their beers, chatting about the football season and the Seahawks’ chances. Mack tossed his empty can in the recycling bin, then slapped Linc on the back and strolled out the door.

“Thanks for the beer,” Linc said, following him outside.

“My pleasure.” He raised his hand in farewell, climbed into the truck cab and was off.

Linc left work early and by the time he arrived home, Lori was already there. Just seeing her warm, loving smile dissolved the tension that had been with him all day—dissolved it for that night at least. Without a word she hurried across the room, slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him with enough enthusiasm to weaken his knees.

“Was that for anything special?” he asked as he spread nibbling kisses down the side of her neck.

“Yup. We’re celebrating.”

“Hmm … celebrating what?”

“The fact that it’s Monday.”

Each and every Monday was special when he was with Lori. She’d changed his world, brought him joy, made him laugh. Before he’d met her, Linc had seen life as a series of obligations. He’d run the family auto repair business in Seattle with his two younger brothers. After their parents were killed in a car accident, Linc had assumed responsibility for holding the family together. He’d taken his role as the oldest seriously and was determined to keep his brothers and his sister safe, to maintain a cohesive unit. That hadn’t allowed time for anything frivolous like falling in love. Until he actually fell in love—with Lori—and his whole life went through a seismic shift.

“I bought you a present today,” she whispered seductively in his ear.

Shivers of awareness raced down his spine. They could barely afford groceries, let alone gifts. “Oh?”

“Do you want to see it?”

He released her and slowly walked away.

“Linc, don’t you want to see what I got you?”

“Lori, we’re in a bit of a … a financial bind at the moment. It would be best if you didn’t buy me anything for a while. I’m sorry, but I’d rather you didn’t make any unnecessary purchases. Okay?”

She blinked, then nodded reluctantly. “Of course. I’ll take it back. I still have the receipt.”

“Thank you.” He felt bad asking her to return the item. Whatever it was would be superfluous. He had everything he needed.

“I’d like to show it to you first, though. Okay?”

Linc agreed and sat in the recliner while Lori disappeared into the bedroom. His heart was heavy. He felt her disappointment but they couldn’t spend money indiscriminately, especially money they didn’t have.

His wife reappeared dressed in a see-through chiffon piece of nothing. Linc’s mouth sagged open. “That’s … the gift you got me?” Her tempting body was all but revealed, and Linc swallowed hard. “I … I think we might find room in our budget for that.” He got the words out, but with some difficulty.

“No, you’re right. I should know better than to buy—”

“Lori,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m nearly broke. The business is failing. I don’t even know if I’ll last the month. I haven’t wanted to tell you, but I can’t hide it anymore.”

She placed her hand over her mouth and stared at him, wide-eyed with shock.

“I realize I was wrong to keep this from you, but I. have my reasons.”

Lori continued to stare at him as if she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Leaning forward, he rubbed his hand across his face. “I’m so sorry.”

She came to him then, climbing onto his lap and wrapping her arms around him. “I married you because I love you. I don’t need anything but you.”

Linc buried his face in her neck and pulled her close. She lifted his head and he kissed her. Then she abruptly broke off the kiss, sliding off his lap and standing directly in front of him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. Do you understand?”

“Kiss you?” he asked in bewilderment.

“Of course not! I’m talking about keeping the truth from me.” Whirling around, she went into their bedroom, returning a few minutes later, fully dressed. “Okay. What happened?” Her voice was brisk, all seductiveness gone.

“Happened?”

“To cause this financial shortfall. You’re …” She paused as though everything had started to come together in her mind. “My father.” She spoke in a low voice, then repeated the two words more loudly and with more conviction. “My father’s done something, hasn’t he?”

Linc didn’t reply.

“Hasn’t he?” she demanded again.

“I … can’t say for sure, but it seems that way.”

She began to pace, five steps in one direction, five in the other, making quick, precise turns.

Linc found her movements almost hypnotic. “Now, Lori,” he began, “there’s no need to get upset. I have everything under control.”

“That’s low, even for him.” Either she hadn’t heard a word he’d said or she recognized his statement for the lie it was. “This is going to change and it’s going to change right now.” She reached for her purse and yanked out her cell phone, punching a single button.

“Lori,” he asked, “who are you phoning?”

“Who do you think?” she muttered.

Linc stood and circled her waist with his arms. “Lori,” he said again, drawing her close. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

She moved the cell away from her ear. “I’m calling Daddy. And I’m having it out with him.”

Linc had seen that look in her eyes only once before and that, too, had been an instance involving her father.

“Hello, Helen, this is Lori Wyse. Is my father still in?”

He started to tell Lori that maybe they should discuss this first, but one sharp glance from his wife told him to forget it. She was furious—and determined.

A minute later Bellamy got on the phone. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, all sweetness.

“Hi, baby girl. If you’re calling, I figure that means you’ve come to your senses and dumped that useless husband of yours.”

Linc stood close enough to hear Bellamy’s half of the conversation. At his father-in-law’s comment, his back stiffened. He released Lori, automatically clenching his fists.

“No, Daddy, it’s the Bellamys I’m—as you so delicately put it—dumping. For most of my life I’ve cowered in front of you, caving in to your wishes. No more. You’ve gone too far this time. You want to hurt the man I love, the man I married. I won’t stand for that. I won’t! In fact … I never want to hear your name or see you again. You have tried to manipulate me my entire life. Well, I chose to marry Linc. He is my husband and you will stop meddling in our lives. Is that clear?”

Leonard Bellamy seemed amused. “You’re talking mighty big for a girl living in an apartment her father owns.”

“That’s another thing. Linc and I will be out of here just as soon as we can find another place.”

For once Bellamy didn’t seem quite so sure. “Don’t be hasty….”

“No, just the opposite. It’s taken me too long. You’ve done everything you can to ruin my husband, but you don’t know what kind of man he is. He’s going to make it, regardless of what you say or what you do. And as of this minute I am finished with this family.”

“What about your mother?”

“She’ll have to make her own decision. I’ve made mine, and while I hate to exclude her from my life, I won’t give you access to any part of me or my marriage. If that means never seeing Mom again, then so be it.”

Bellamy didn’t appear to believe her. “Like I said, you’re talking big now. But you’ll change your mind at the first sign of trouble.”

“Will I, Dad? When’s the last time I changed my mind about anything? When’s the last time you convinced me to back down?”

His hesitation was answer enough.

“Listen, Lori …”

“Goodbye, Daddy,” she said softly, and disconnected. With a hiccuping sigh, Lori dropped her cell phone back inside her purse. Then, as if she’d suddenly realized he was right behind her, she walked into Linc’s embrace and hugged him hard.

Linc hugged her back. “I wish you’d talked to me before you did that.” Linc knew what it was like to be without parents. He didn’t fully grasp how important a father and mother could be until he’d lost his own.

“You’re the only family I need now.”

“Oh, Lori …”

“We have to move,” she said. She straightened and rubbed her moist eyes.

“Yes, well, that could be a problem,” Linc felt compelled to tell her. He’d known a move was imminent after his last dreadful confrontation with his father-in-law. The problem was, they didn’t have enough funds to make a security deposit, plus the first and last month’s rent. Even with Lori’s salary from a high-end women’s clothing store in Silverdale, they didn’t have the amount they required. Or anything close to it. Her income covered groceries and daily necessities. And the apartment had been rent-free.

“Where do you suggest we find a new place when our bank account is hovering around zero?”

“What about moving back to Seattle?”

Linc had thought of that earlier but he hated the idea of bringing his wife into the same house as his two younger brothers. He enjoyed his privacy and feared Mel and Ned would see Lori as another Mary Jo, expecting her to take care of the cooking and cleaning the way their sister had. Not that he’d allow it to happen.

“The commute would be difficult for you.”

“I’ll change jobs,” Lori said.

“You love your job,” he reminded her.

She nodded. “I’d miss it, but I’ll do whatever I have to.”

They were both silent for a moment. “No matter what it costs, Linc, we have to leave this apartment.”

Lori was right, and he couldn’t dispute that. The sooner they found a new place, the better.




Seven


Rachel wasn’t sure that seeing Bruce was a good idea. He’d been persistent, however, and after several conversations about it, she’d finally given in. They’d agreed to meet at the Pancake Palace after work. When she arrived, a few minutes late, Bruce’s car was already parked out front; he’d probably shown up right at five. She wondered if he’d told Jolene where he was going, and doubted he had. Bruce liked to keep the peace. After all, he’d let his daughter take charge of his life and their marriage. Rachel was astonished that she’d stuck around as long as she had. The situation was emotionally unhealthy for all three of them.

Rachel parked several spots down from his car, hesitated for a moment, half tempted to flee, and then locked up. When she entered the restaurant she saw Bruce immediately. He’d chosen a booth facing the door. He smiled as he stood to greet her. Funny how a simple smile could affect her so strongly. She smiled back, accepted his kiss on the cheek and slid into the booth across from him.

“Hi,” he said eagerly, his eyes filled with longing. He stretched his arms across the table and clasped her hands as if he needed to touch her. “You look fantastic.” “Thanks.” She’d taken extra care with her hair and makeup, although she tried not to have high expectations about this meeting.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked. “No problems with the pregnancy?”

“None,” she assured him.

“Everything okay at work?”

She nodded. The past five days, following the fiasco at the salon, had been relatively calm. Jane hadn’t been happy with her afterward, and Rachel couldn’t blame her, but fortunately there’d been no further reference to it.

One night recently when she hadn’t been able to sleep, Rachel had gotten up for a glass of milk and found Nate in the kitchen. They’d talked for almost an hour. He’d been sympathetic, although never intrusive. During this conversation with Nate, she’d realized with greater clarity than ever why Bruce acted the way he did. He hated confrontation and would do anything to avoid it. He coped by ignoring conflicts and tension, by wishing them away. He didn’t want to be caught between his wife and his daughter. She couldn’t fault him for preferring to keep the peace, but his approach didn’t work.

“You need to look after yourself and the baby,” Bruce was saying.

Alicia, the waitress, appeared in her pink uniform with the starched white apron. She automatically poured Bruce a coffee.

“Decaf for me,” Rachel told her.

“Coming right up. How about a piece of pie to go with that?”

“None for me,” Bruce said.

Alicia scowled at him. “I wasn’t asking you. She’s the one who could use a little meat on her bones.”

“No, thanks,” Rachel said, squelching a smile.

Alicia set the coffeepot on the table and started to enumerate the day’s selection of pies. “We got apple, blueberry, coconut cream and peach. The apple’s my favorite but you choose.”

“I …” Rachel looked at Bruce, who was grinning from ear to ear, apparently approving of Alicia’s tactics.

“Apple, it is,” the waitress announced, picked up the coffeepot and hurried into the kitchen.

“She’s almost as bossy as Goldie,” Bruce said, chuckling.

Goldie had been at the Pancake Palace forever, while Alicia, who’d started there maybe twenty years ago, was a relative newcomer.

Actually, a piece of apple pie did sound good. With all this stress—the pregnancy, the separation, the emotional upheaval—Rachel had lost weight she could ill afford to lose.

Alicia reappeared with the decaf and a thick slice of apple pie. “Enjoy,” she said.

“I will.” Rachel reached for her fork but didn’t try even a bite. She needed to hear what Bruce had to say, why he’d wanted to meet. Clutching the fork, she waited until Alicia was out of earshot. “You asked to see me.”

“Yes. It’s time you came home,” Bruce said starkly. “You’re my wife and I love you. You living somewhere else—it’s just plain wrong.” His voice fell. “I worry about you and the baby.”

She knew he meant every word, but nothing about their situation had improved. Judging by the incident at the mall, Jolene was as angry and caustic as ever. Rachel wasn’t wanted nor was she appreciated by her stepdaughter, and her husband wouldn’t deal with the girl’s hostility. Rachel refused to return to an environment that was unhealthy for her and her unborn child.

“What’s changed?” she asked. With great precision, she set the fork aside and studied Bruce.

He cupped his mug with both hands and stared down at it. “I have.” He took in a deep breath. “I failed you as a husband by choosing to ignore the obvious. I hoped the two of you would work it out on your own instead of doing what I could to help. If you come back, I promise I won’t let Jolene say or do anything disrespectful.”

“Bruce, that isn’t enough. I’m sorry but this isn’t going to be resolved just because you tell Jolene to respect me.” Besides, he might be able to control his daughter while he was in the house, although she doubted it, but there were plenty of times when she and Jolene were alone.

His sigh revealed his impatience. “Okay, tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want,” she said emphatically, “to get to the root of the problem and that means seeing a counselor. A family counselor,” she specified. “A professional trained to deal with situations like this.”

“Okay.” He drew out the word.

His reluctance was evident. He’d said yes to counseling a little while ago but it was obviously the last thing he wanted. Bruce had never been keen on the idea of pouring out their personal troubles to a stranger. For her part, Jolene had been violently opposed from the first. It was one of the factors that had led to Rachel’s leaving. “I’ve heard that before and nothing happened. I’d make an appointment and you’d find a reason to cancel or forget or—”

“I only canceled the one time.”

“You said you’d make the next appointment but you didn’t.”

He glanced down at the table. “I—I’ll go. No more excuses. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home.”

Rachel reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “That’s a start.”

“But I can tell you right now that Jolene won’t go,” Bruce continued. “And I don’t know how to get her to agree.”

“Still, a trained professional can teach us how to deal with her.”

Bruce frowned. “You really believe that?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

He held her look for a long moment, then shook his head. “I’ll go because it’s what you want, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope that someone neither of us knows is going to help in this situation.”

“In other words, you think counseling is a waste of time?” She spoke slowly, letting him know how much his comment discouraged her.

“The thing is, Rachel, if Jolene begs off, which she already said she intends to do, what will we get out of counseling?”

Sometimes Rachel had to wonder which one of those two was the parent. Bruce had more or less told her everything she needed to hear. Without even sipping her coffee or taking a bite of the pie, Rachel slid out of the booth. What was a waste of time was meeting Bruce. Despite what he’d said, nothing had changed, nor would it. Bruce just wanted their lives to go back to what he thought of as “normal”—the way they’d been this past year. But Rachel would no longer tolerate Jolene’s behavior toward her.

“Where are you going?” Bruce asked, standing, too. He grabbed for her hand as if to stop her.

“All you care about is talking me into moving back home, and you’ll say whatever it takes. Sweeping our problems under the carpet isn’t going to work.”

“I said I’d go to counseling,” Bruce insisted.

Rachel was sure he’d attend one or two sessions, but then he’d find some excuse to cancel. Jolene would simply refuse to go, and Bruce would be powerless to make her. Rachel wasn’t willing to accept half measures. When and if she moved back home, their circumstances had to be completely different.

“Don’t leave, Rachel. Please.”

“It was pointless for us to talk,” she said, tugging her hand free.

“I don’t understand what you want. I’ve offered to go to counseling and that’s not good enough. So what do you want?” he demanded, irritated now.

“I want my husband to be a man who honors my place in his life. A man who doesn’t allow his children to dictate what goes on in his household. A man who’ll cherish his role and mine—and frankly, at this moment, you aren’t that man. And I don’t know if you ever will be.”

Bruce blanched. “Don’t hold back,” he muttered sarcastically. “See how deep you can cut me. I came here hoping you’d be reasonable, hoping to convince you of my love….”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what, Bruce? I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to talk again.”

“Fine. All I ask is that you let me know when the baby’s born.”

“Of course I will, but until then I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of my life.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

While it was true that she might have a change of heart, right now she was dead serious. “I do mean it.”

And with that, Rachel walked out of the restaurant.

She didn’t sleep well that night or the next. Thursday afternoon she was with a client when she saw Bruce standing outside the salon. She turned her back, ignoring him.

Jane walked over to her and whispered, “Bruce is here.”

“I know.”

“He wants to speak to you.”

Rachel shook her head. Talking to Bruce wouldn’t help either of them. How many times were they supposed to repeat the same argument?

“Rachel, he’s only going to show up again and again. This is disruptive to you and to everyone here. I told you I didn’t want him back.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want me to call security?”

Having Bruce escorted from the mall was further than she was willing to go. “No. I’ll talk to him.” Setting the curling iron aside, and excusing herself to her client, Rachel stepped outside, where Bruce stood waiting.

He’d buried his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet back and forth like a schoolboy called before the principal. “I didn’t feel good about how our conversation ended the other night.”

It had bothered Rachel, too, although she had no idea how to change anything.

“Won’t you please just come home?”

“No.” She hated to be so inflexible, but she didn’t have any choice. “I told you before and I meant it—I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to see you, Bruce. It only upsets me.”

“I can’t stay away, Rachel. I’ve tried but I can’t make myself do it.”

“In other words, you’re determined to hound me.” Thank goodness she’d had the sense not to tell anyone where she was living, not even Teri.

“I want you back.”

Apparently he intended to wear down her defenses until he got what he wanted. It sounded as if he planned to wait outside the salon every day until she moved back to Yakima Street. For her, the problem with that was twofold. First, Jane didn’t want him hanging around, and second, Rachel feared that in time he would wear her down to the point that she’d agree.

“Leave me alone, Bruce.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I love you.”

She longed to believe they could make their marriage work. For her sake and for the baby’s. But every time she felt herself weakening, all she had to do was picture Jolene’s face, mocking her with that triumphant smile. The girl had won, and for Rachel there was no going back.

“Don’t come here again, Bruce. I’m warning you, if you do Jane will ask security to step in.”

“Fine, if that’s what it takes to talk to you, then I’ll gladly let them arrest me.”

Rachel didn’t respond to his comment and returned to the salon. She wasn’t sure how long Bruce stood there; she did her best not to look in his direction.

At quitting time, Jane asked the security guard to walk Rachel to her car. While she felt a bit ridiculous, she was grateful to be spared the risk of yet another confrontation with Bruce.

Once she got home, to the house she shared with Nate Olsen, she opened a can of tomato soup and had that and a few cheese slices for dinner. She wasn’t hungry but she ate because of the baby.

Nate arrived around seven. Rachel was sitting in the recliner with her feet elevated. She had the television on and was reading a magazine at the same time. She needed as many distractions as she could get.

Her housemate took one look at her and frowned. “Bad day?”

“You could say that.”

“What happened?”

Unsure how much to tell him, she considered what she should say.

“Wait.” Nate held up one hand. He sat on the edge of the sofa. “Bruce showed up at work again.”

She nodded, but didn’t divulge the details of their conversation. “Jane isn’t happy about it, either.”

“Did he make another scene?”

“Not really, but he threatened to show up every day until I change my mind.”

“That’s awkward. It’s going to cause problems for you, isn’t it?”

She hadn’t mentioned this part of the conversation to her boss. Jane was already upset with her over what had happened a week earlier.

“I might have a solution,” Nate said slowly.

“What?” At the moment everything felt hopeless.

“A temporary position has been posted at the shipyard,” Nate told her. “One of the clerks just had a baby and she’ll be out for five months. The job requires basic computer and administrative skills. Do you think you might want to apply?”

Rachel bit her lip. “Would I have any chance of getting the job?”

“As good a chance as anyone else.”

“Then why not.” Getting on with the shipyard would certainly help her situation. The timing couldn’t have been better. And after the baby was born, she’d have to reassess her options, anyway.

“I know someone in HR and I’ll drop off a résumé for you.”

“Wow, that would be great! Thank you.”

Not surprisingly, the next day after work, Bruce showed up at the salon. Rachel ignored him and after several minutes he left.

“Rachel,” Jane whispered in warning. “I don’t want Bruce hanging around here. Can’t you do something?”

“I already have.” Booking an extended lunch hour, she’d gone to the shipyard employment office, had an interview and taken a test. She didn’t know how well she’d done but it didn’t seem that difficult.

Nate was home early that evening, smiling when he walked in the door. “I talked to Becky, my friend in HR,” he said. He put his briefcase down, opened the refrigerator and removed a cold soda. “You got the highest possible score.”

“I did? Does that mean they might call me in for another interview? Did you tell her that if she hired me I’d give her a free haircut?”

Nate laughed. “No, because that might be construed as bribery.”

Rachel smiled, optimistic for the first time in weeks. Months.

“The position will be posted for another couple of days and then Becky will notify the applicant who’s been chosen. You’ll know one way or the other by the end of the week.”

“Thanks again, Nate.”

He shrugged off her appreciation. “Anything for a friend.”

Rachel had a good feeling about this short-term position. It was perfect for her. The shipyard obviously agreed because a few days later Rachel received word that she had the job.




Eight


“Jack, what’s that in your pocket?” Olivia asked, pulling her husband into the hallway that led to their bedroom. He had the grace to look guilty.

“Cookies,” he admitted.

“Jack,” she moaned. He had to watch his diet carefully, and the cookies and cake Charlotte insisted on baking weren’t part of his low-fat eating program. After seeing Jack through one heart attack and bypass surgery, Olivia had been keeping a close eye on his eating habits. He’d been backsliding recently, since temptation, provided by Charlotte, was ever-present these days.

“Your mother baked them especially for me,” Jack said. “I couldn’t hurt her feelings, could I?”

“Oh, Jack.” She sighed, and held out her hand. “At least give one of them to me.”

He snorted. “At this rate we’ll both weigh three hundred pounds by the time your mother and Ben are back in their own house.”

Olivia had already gained a pound and this cookie wasn’t helping; still, like Jack, she couldn’t resist.

Thrusting one hand in his pocket, he took out the cookies in their paper napkin, and begrudgingly placed two of the four he’d pilfered in her palm.

Olivia finished off her last peanut butter cookie before she went into the kitchen. Her mother was busy with the dishes, quietly singing a hymn as she squirted detergent into the hot water. She put the bottle down by the sink and began a song about Jesus washing all our sins away.

“Mom,” Olivia said, coming to stand next to her mother. She reached for a kitchen towel and slung it over her shoulder while she waited for the first clean bowl. “You could always use the dishwasher, you know.”

“It only takes a minute to do these few by hand,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

She’d arrived home about ten minutes earlier and they’d chatted briefly before she saw Jack slinking away, looking guilty. “We spoke when I came in.”

“We did?” Charlotte seemed confused.

“Mom, do you remember baking cookies yesterday?”

“Of course I do. I made Jack’s favorites. Snickerdoodles.”

“You baked him a pie last night, too.”

“Well, yes, the Granny Smith apples are outstanding this year.”

Olivia tried to broach the subject carefully. “The thing is, Mom, Jack and I are trying to avoid sweets.”

“My heavens, why would you do that?”

“It’s a matter of being healthy, eating right, getting in the required number of fruits and vegetables. While it’s fine to have dessert once a week or so, every day is simply too much.”

Her mother turned to look at her. “But I enjoy baking for you and it makes me feel like I’m doing something to pay for my keep.”

“But, Mom, you don’t need to do a thing.”

“I know that, but I want to.”

Because Olivia felt guilty she added, “It’s not that Jack and I don’t appreciate it, because we do. But Jack loves your cookies so much, he can’t stop himself from stealing one or two even though he shouldn’t.”

Her mother beamed with pleasure. “I always did like Jack Griffin. I was so pleased when you decided to marry him.”

“I like him myself,” Olivia said, smiling as she spoke. “Why don’t we compromise? You bake to your heart’s content, and we’ll freeze the cookies and other goodies.”

“Olivia, what a marvelous idea! That’ll make everyone happy. No wonder you’re such a good judge.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Olivia dried the clean dishes, put them back in the cupboards, then went to the laundry room. She had a load of whites she wanted to wash. To her surprise, she found them already clean and folded, sitting on top of the washer. Apparently her mother had taken that task upon herself. Unfortunately, she’d added something red—her new towel set? As a result, what had gone in white was now a fetching shade of … pink.

Groaning inwardly Olivia picked up the stack of clothes and carried them into the bedroom.

The phone rang just then, and the readout said Grace’s name.

“Griffin residence,” Charlotte’s voice answered when Olivia picked up.

“Good evening, Charlotte,” Grace said.

“I’ve got it, Mom.”

“You two girls go ahead and talk. I’ll get dinner on the table.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes,” Olivia told her mother. She heard the phone click as Charlotte hung up.

“So how’s it going with your mother and Ben living at the house?” Grace asked.

“Okay, I guess.”

“It’s not always easy having your mother in your own home, is it?” Grace said sympathetically.

“I’ll tell you about it tonight.”

“Er, that’s what I was calling about.”

“You are going to aerobics class, Grace, and I won’t accept any excuses.” They’d stopped attending their weekly classes during Olivia’s cancer treatments, but they’d since resumed. This was their time and she wasn’t going to be cheated out of it.

“I promised Beth Morehouse I’d stop by her place on Christmas Tree Lane to meet some dogs she wants to bring into the Reading with Rover program.” As head librarian, Grace had started the program toward the end of the school year and now it had begun again. Beth, a local dog trainer, had been instrumental in its success. “Have you ever been there?”

“No. You aren’t trying to change the subject, are you, Grace?”

“No, I’m serious. She’s got quite the operation. Twenty acres of Christmas trees and a full working crew. The house is lovely, too—a big two-story place, charming as can be.”

“Grace, you know Wednesday is our exercise night.”

“Yes.” Olivia heard reluctance in her voice. “But I sort of got out of the habit.”

“Then it’s more important than ever for us to get back into it.”

“You’re right,” Grace admitted. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. I needed it, and to be honest, I wasn’t all that excited about driving out to Beth’s.” She sighed. “I can do it later in the week.”

“You’re missing Buttercup, aren’t you?”

There was a silence, and Olivia realized her friend was fighting back tears over the loss of her beloved dog. “Yeah, I miss her. She was far more than just a pet. She saw me through the darkest days of my life.”

Olivia felt her own eyes welling up with tears. She’d loved Buttercup, too. Years before, one of her mother’s friends was moving into an assisted living complex; she couldn’t take the golden retriever with her and Charlotte had suggested Grace might want the dog. Dan Sherman, Grace’s first husband, had disappeared a few months earlier and Grace had been alone for the first time in her life. Those had been dark days. It was more than a year before they’d learned of Dan’s fate.

“See you at seven,” Olivia said once she’d recovered her own voice.

“I’ll be there.”

Dinner that evening was a four-course meal Charlotte had spent most of the afternoon preparing. Ben had set the table, and Olivia noticed that he’d arranged their cutlery in the wrong order—very unusual for her always impeccable stepfather. They had squash soup, using squash from Charlotte’s own small garden. That was followed by a mixed green salad with homemade poppyseed dressing. The main course was meat loaf, mashed potato casserole, fresh green beans, plus homemade pickled asparagus and sweet corn relish. And for dessert, a chocolate zucchini cake.

Olivia would’ve preferred a light dinner because of her workout, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it.

“You’re much too thin as it is,” Charlotte murmured as she heaped a second spoonful of potato casserole onto Olivia’s plate. Olivia forced a smile, took one more bite and then excused herself.

Ten minutes later, Jack joined her in the bedroom. Ten extra minutes during which he was helping himself to seconds of everything on the table.

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed.

“Sweetheart,” Jack said, ever sensitive to her moods. “Are you upset about something?”

“My mother is trying so hard to be helpful and God bless her for it, but I’d rather do my own wash and I’d rather she stopped cooking like it’s Thanksgiving every single night.”

Jack’s face broke into a huge grin. “You don’t hear me complaining.”

“Wipe that smile off your face, Jack Griffin.”

He spread out his hands. “Honey …”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me. Look at this.” She flew off the bed to her underwear drawer and yanked it open, then removed the now-pink panties and waved them at him. “Did you see this?”

“Hey, when did you start wearing pink underwear?”

“Apparently today. Mom washed them with the new red towels, which by the way have also turned pink. Oh, and it isn’t just my underwear that’s this lovely color. You’d better hope no one catches a glimpse of you in your pink shorts.”

“Ah …”

“Not quite so funny now, is it?”

He frowned and didn’t answer.

“That isn’t all,” Olivia lamented. “Mom cleaned out my sewing room. I asked her to not touch anything in there but either she forgot or she ignored me. Jack, I had all the fabric cut out for my next quilt and Mom decided to put everything away. Except that I don’t know where away is and obviously it’s slipped her mind, as well.” A great deal had been slipping her mother’s mind these days, and this wasn’t the first time she’d noticed. She needed to make Charlotte an appointment with a gerontologist.

“Your mom straightened out my desk, too.”

Olivia’s eyes went wide. Even she never touched Jack’s desk. “She was only trying to help,” Olivia explained unnecessarily.

“I know.” He sat down beside her and placed his arm around her shoulders.

“I think we need to have Mom tested for Alzheimer’s. Or perhaps she has some other form of dementia. But something’s wrong and we’ve got to find out what it is and what we should do.”

“Olivia … are you sure? That sounds a bit drastic. She’s got a few memory problems, but a lot of people her age do.”

“Their house could have burned to the ground!”

“Thankfully it didn’t,” Jack murmured.

“What about next time? And there will be a next time, Jack. Mom’s memory is declining and it isn’t going to improve.”

“Now, Olivia, I agree there’s a problem but—”

“Jack, you’re a reporter and you’ve researched stories on this.”

“That’s true.” In fact, not three months ago the Chronicle had done a feature on rising rates of dementia, including Alzheimer’s, and local resources for families. “I guess I don’t like seeing it so close to home.”

“You mean at home,” Olivia said with wry humor.

“Yeah. But your mom and Ben might not be able to go back to their house. Would they continue to live with us?”

“No.” That would slowly but surely drive Olivia over the edge of sanity.

“Where would they go, then? A seniors’ complex?”

Olivia hadn’t given the matter much thought. “I think so.”

“There are some pretty good assisted-living places,” Jack said. “Remember we profiled a few for that feature in the paper?”

Olivia nodded. “That makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yes.”

Now that she’d acknowledged the problem, much of what had been happening recently suddenly became clear. The fact that Charlotte had left her knitting in the car at Faith and Troy’s wedding, for instance. Her mother was never without her knitting. True, it’d been a traumatic day, since Ben had gone to confront his son David.

If it’d been a single incident, Olivia could easily gloss over it, but there’d been countless other ones. Small things such as forgetting where she’d put Olivia’s quilt fabric. The problem with the laundry. Then there was the fire….

Olivia stood and walked around to her bedside table, where she reached for the phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“My brother. I need Will’s input on this.”

Jack’s eyes met hers. “Time for a family conference,” he said.




Nine


“Oh, what a lovely painting,” the older, smartly dressed woman commented as she walked around the Harbor Street Art Gallery. While Will was out running errands, Miranda Sullivan had removed the Chandler painting from the wall where he’d placed it. Then she hung it on the opposite wall, which—in her humble opinion—showed off the watercolor to its best effect. It was all about the light, her husband used to say, and who’d know that better than an artist like Hugh Sullivan? She noticed how quickly this customer was drawn to the painting.

“You have good taste. This is one of our loveliest pieces,” Miranda said, walking toward the woman. “Welcome to the Harbor Street Gallery. Are you visiting Cedar Cove? I’m Miranda Sullivan.”

“I’m Veronica Vanderhuff. My husband and I recently moved to the area and we’re looking for a few pieces by local artists. Your gallery was recommended.”

“You’ve come to the right place. All the art on display is by local talent. The work you’re admiring is Beverly Chandler’s Girl in Spring.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“In my view it’s the best painting we currently have.”

Veronica shrugged her slim, elegant shoulders. “I’m almost afraid to ask the price.”

“All our prices are extremely reasonable,” Miranda assured her. She’d love to sell this painting before Will returned. Then she could flaunt the fact that it sold only after she’d hung it on this other wall.

Veronica checked the price list Miranda handed her and seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh, this is reasonable. I’ll take it.”

Miranda wanted to clap and leap up and down. She’d derive real pleasure from rubbing this in Will’s stubborn face. Not a very commendable impulse, perhaps, but there it was. In all her life, Miranda had yet to meet a man who irritated and enthralled her in equal measure. She found herself highly attracted to this man she didn’t even like. If that wasn’t puzzling enough, he was constantly in her thoughts. She knew it was unlikely that Will would ever look on her as anything more than an employee, and yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. Frustrating, to say the least.




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