1105 Yakima Street

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.