Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.

CEDAR COVE

16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD

204 ROSEWOOD AVENUE

311 PELICAN COURT

44 CRANBERRY POINT

50 HARBOR STREET

6 RAINIER DRIVE

BLOSSOM STREET

THE SHOP ON BLOSSOM STREET

A GOOD YARN

OLD BOYFRIENDS

WEDNESDAYS AT FOUR

TWENTY WISHES

SUMMER ON BLOSSOM STREET

HANNAH’S LIST

THURSDAYS AT EIGHT

CHRISTMAS IN SEATTLE

Dear Friends,

Welcome to the fifth instalment of the Cedar Cove series. Whether this is the first Cedar Cove book you’re reading or the fifth, my hope is that you’ll feel right at home.

Like some of the residents of Cedar Cove you’ll find a few surprises – and a new romance in the making. And I hope there’ll be a lot of smiles and a laugh or two along the way.

I always enjoy hearing from my readers. You can reach me through my website by signing the guest book at debbiemacomber.com. Click the Cedar Cove button and you’re in for some fun. If you aren’t online, you can write to me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA. Three or four times a year I provide updates on the characters – letters from the characters themselves – and they often have a recipe they want to share.

So make yourself a cup of tea and settle down with your friends from Cedar Cove. Olivia, Jack, Grace, Charlotte, Ben, Roy, Corrie and everyone else – they’re all eager to fill you in on what’s happening in town. They’re delighted you’re back. And so am I!

Warmest regards,

Debbie Macomber

50 Harbor Street
Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Mary Lou Carney whose friendship and wisdom have been a special blessing to me.

Some of the Residents of Cedar Cove, Washington

Olivia Lockhart Griffin: Family court judge in Cedar Cove. Mother of Justine and James. Married to Jack Griffin. Lives at 16 Lighthouse Road.

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

Charlotte Jefferson: Mother of Olivia. Now married to widower Ben Rhodes.

Justine (Lockhart) Gunderson: Daughter of Olivia. Married to Seth Gunderson. Mother of Leif. The Gundersons live at 6 Rainier Drive.

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

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

Stanley Lockhart: Olivia’s ex-husband and father of James and Justine. Now lives in Seattle.

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

Grace Sherman: Olivia’s best friend. Librarian. Widow of Dan Sherman. Mother of Maryellen Bowman and Kelly Jordan. Involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with Cliff Harding. Lives at 204 Rosewood Lane.

Cliff Harding: Retired engineer and now horse breeder living near Cedar Cove. Divorced father of Lisa, who lives in Maryland.

Cal Washburn: Horse trainer, employed by Cliff Harding.

Maryellen Bowman: Oldest daughter of Grace and Dan Sherman. Mother of Katie. Married to Jon Bowman.

Jon Bowman: Photographer, married to Maryellen. Father of Katie.

Zachary Cox: Accountant, married to Rosie. Father of Allison and Eddie Cox, aged seventeen and eleven. Lives at 311 Pelican Court.

Anson Butler: Boyfriend of Allison Cox.

Cecilia Randall: Navy wife, living in Cedar Cove. Accountant, working for Zach Cox. Married to Ian Randall, submariner. Lost a baby (Allison). Is now pregnant.

Rachel Pendergast: Works at the Get Nailed salon. Friends with Bruce Peyton and his daughter, Jolene. Romantically involved with sailor Nate Olsen.

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

Roy McAfee: Private investigator, retired from Seattle police force. Two adult children, Mack and Lynnette. Married to Corrie.

Corrie McAfee: Roy’s wife and office manager. The McAfees live at 50 Harbor Street.

Lynnette McAfee: Daughter of Roy and Corrie. Moves to Cedar Cove to work as a nurse practitioner in the new medical clinic.

Gloria Ashton: Police officer for Bremerton force. Lynnette’s friend and neighbour.

Troy Davis: Cedar Cove sheriff.

Pastor Flemming: Local Methodist minister.

One

Corrie McAfee was worried. And she knew that her husband, Roy, was too.

Who wouldn’t be? Starting in July, Roy—a private investigator—had received a series of anonymous postcards, and while the messages weren’t overtly threatening, they were certainly distressing.

The first communication, which had been mailed to the office, spoke of regrets. During the intervening weeks, there’d been several others. Corrie had read each postcard so often she’d memorized them all. The first one stated: EVERYONE HAS REGRETS. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’VE DONE YOU WISH YOU COULD DO OVER? THINK ABOUT IT. There hadn’t been a signature then, or on any of the other cards. They’d arrived at infrequent intervals and been mailed from different locations. The cryptic messages kept playing in her mind. The passing of time hadn’t helped; she was as much in the dark now, in October, as when she’d seen that first postcard.

There was a final gasping, gurgling sound as the coffee drained into the glass pot. The noise distracted Corrie from her worries for a moment—long enough to glance out the wide office window that overlooked downtown Cedar Cove, Washington. Serving as Roy’s secretary and assistant had its advantages, and in this instance, disadvantages. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss; the current situation was definitely one of those cases. She’d sleep better if she’d never learned about the mysterious postcards.

And yet…even if Roy had managed to keep them hidden from her, she would still have known—because the last message had been hand-delivered, at night, to their front door. Not to the office like the others, but to their home. Late one evening, someone had walked up the sidewalk and onto the porch of their house. As it happened, Roy and Corrie were entertaining dinner guests that night—and had opened the door to discover that an unknown person had left a fruit basket and an accompanying note. Chills raced up Corrie’s spine at the thought that this person knew their home address.

“Is that coffee ready yet?” Roy called from inside his office. Apparently she hadn’t delivered it fast enough.

“Hold your horses—it’s coming.” Corrie didn’t mean to snap at her husband. Normally she wasn’t short-tempered. This uncharacteristic outburst revealed how upset she was by everything that was happening to them. Sighing, she filled a clean mug for Roy and carried it, steam rising, into his office.

“Okay, that does it,” she said, putting the coffee on the corner of his desk. “We have to talk.”

As if he didn’t have a care in the world, Roy leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. They’d been married for twenty-seven years, and Corrie found him as attractive now as she had in college. Roy had played football for the University of Washington and been a “big man on campus,” as they used to say. He was tall and broad-shouldered, still muscular, his posture as straight as ever. He stayed in good shape without apparent effort, and Corrie envied, just a bit, the fact that he’d never gained any weight. His dark hair had thinned and was streaked with gray, which only added a look of dignity to his appearance.

Of all the women he dated during college, he’d fallen in love with her. Theirs hadn’t been an easy courtship, though. They’d broken up for more than a year, and then reunited. Once they were back together, they realized how much they loved each other; there’d been no uncertainty about their feelings. They were married shortly after graduation and their love had endured through trials and tribulations, through good years and bad. They’d had plenty of both.

“Talk about what?” Roy asked casually.

His nonchalance didn’t fool Corrie. Her husband knew exactly what was on her mind. “Does THE PAST HAS A WAY OF CATCHING UP WITH THE PRESENT tell you anything?” she murmured, sitting down in the chair normally reserved for clients. She wanted Roy to understand that she wouldn’t be put off easily. She was afraid he knew more about these postcards than he’d let on. It would be just like him to try to protect her.

Roy frowned. “Those messages don’t have anything to do with you, so don’t worry about it.”

His answer infuriated her. “How can you say that? Everything that happens to you affects me.”

He seemed about to argue, but after all these years, he recognized that she wasn’t going to be satisfied with glib reassurances. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I’ve made enemies and, yes, I have regrets, but who doesn’t?”

Roy had reached the rank of detective for the Seattle Police Department and been forced into early retirement because of a back injury. In the beginning, Corrie had been excited to have her husband at home. She’d hoped they’d be able to travel and do some of the things they’d always planned, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Roy had the time now, but their finances had been adversely affected when he’d had to take early retirement. Their income was less than it had been by at least twenty percent. In a money-saving effort, they’d moved from Seattle and across Puget Sound to the community of Cedar Cove. The cost of property was much more reasonable in Kitsap County, which also offered a slower pace of life. When the real estate agent showed them the house at 50 Harbor Street, with its wide front porch and sweeping view of the cove and lighthouse, Corrie knew immediately that this house and this town would become their home.

They’d moved from the big city, and it hadn’t been as much of an adjustment as Corrie had feared. Folks in town were pleasant, and Roy and Corrie had made a few good friends—notably the Beldons—but kept mostly to themselves. They knew their neighbors’ names and exchanged greetings, but that was about it.

To Corrie’s disappointment, Roy had grown restless with retirement. His moods had reflected his boredom, and he was frequently cantankerous. Everything changed when he decided to rent office space and hang out his shingle as a private investigator. It was a decision Corrie had encouraged. Soon her husband was busy and looking forward to each day. He took on the cases that suited him and turned down those that didn’t. Corrie was proud of Roy’s skills, proud of his success and the way he cared about his clients. Never did it occur to her, or apparently to Roy, that one day he’d be solving his own mystery.

“You could be in danger,” Corrie murmured, letting her anxiety show. She refused to hide her feelings, refused to pretend all was well when it wasn’t.

Roy shrugged. “I doubt I’m in jeopardy. If anyone wanted to do me harm, they would’ve done so before now.”

“How can you say that?” she asked irritably. “Bob was followed, and we both know it wasn’t Bob they were interested in. He was driving your car. They thought they were following you.”

Bob Beldon, together with his wife, Peggy, was the owner of the local Bed-and-Breakfast, Thyme and Tide. Bob had borrowed Roy’s car and phoned in a near panic, sure he was being followed. Roy had advised him to drive immediately to the sheriff’s office. As soon as Bob had pulled in to the station, the tail had left him. Only later did Roy and Corrie figure it out. Whoever had shadowed Bob had assumed it was Roy driving.

“The letter said we’re in no danger,” her husband reminded her.

“Of course! That’s what they want us to think,” Corrie argued. “Whoever’s doing this wants us to lower our guard.”

“Now, Corrie—”

She cut him off, rejecting any further attempts to pacify her. “That basket was delivered to our front porch. This…stranger walked right up to our home and left it, and now you’re telling me we have nothing to worry about?” Her voice quavered, and she realized how close she was to losing control of her emotions. She was tired of being afraid, tired of waiting for the next message—or worse. Tired of waking up with her eyes burning from lack of sleep. Her first conscious thought every morning was fear of what might happen that day.

“The basket came over a week ago, and we’ve heard nothing since.” Roy said this as if this was supposed to comfort her. It didn’t.

“There was no postcard in the mail today, was there?” he asked, and she heard an unmistakable hint of tension in his voice.

“No.” Corrie had collected the mail, flipped through it and tossed the bundle of bills and circulars on her desk.

Roy nodded, as if to say Well, then?

“Roy,” she said with deceptive calm, “I can’t remember the last time I slept a night straight through. You’re not sleeping well, either.”

He didn’t agree or disagree.

“We can’t go on pretending everything’s all right.”

Roy’s handsome features tightened. “I’m doing everything I can,” he told her curtly.

“I know, but it isn’t enough.”

“It has to be.”

Corrie wasn’t an expert in the area of investigations, but she knew when it was time to seek help, and they were well past that point. “You need to talk to somebody.”

“Who?” he asked.

The only person she could suggest was the local sheriff. “Troy Davis…”

“Not a good idea,” Roy said. “Whatever this is about happened long before we moved to Cedar Cove.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Regrets. Every postcard mentions regrets. There isn’t a cop who doesn’t have regrets—about things we’ve done or haven’t done or should’ve done differently.”

She thought—but didn’t say—that every human being had regrets. It wasn’t restricted to cops.

“The last message said I JUST WANT YOU TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU DID. DON’T YOU HAVE A SINGLE REGRET? To me, that implies I did something—arrested someone, testified against someone—when I was a detective for Seattle.”

Her voice fell to a whisper. “You were on the force a lot of years. Surely there’s a case or two that stands out in your mind.”

Roy shook his head. “Do you think I haven’t thought about that? You’ve seen me read through my files and notes, going all the way back to my first year on the force, and there’s nothing.”

“I don’t know…You haven’t talked to me. You block me out.”

“I’m protecting you.”

“Don’t!” she cried with barely controlled anger. “I need to know—I have to know. Don’t you see what this is doing to me?”

Roy leaned forward then, bracing his elbows against the desk. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve wracked my brain and I can’t think of anyone who’d come after me like this.”

“But there must be some case…One you might’ve forgotten.”

Obviously at a loss, Roy shook his head again. “Clearly I have. I’ve put murderers away and received my share of threats over the years, but I can’t think of anyone who’d do this. Yet who else could it be?” he said, almost to himself.

“What do you mean?” She was more in control now. Clutching a wadded tissue in her hand, she inhaled a calming breath.

“The type of people I dealt with weren’t subtle. If they wanted revenge, they wouldn’t bother with postcards.”

“A relative of some criminal you sent to jail? Or…a victim?” That was a possibility she’d entertained more than once.

He raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. “Could be.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” It was this constantly being on guard, not knowing what to expect, that had driven Corrie to such an emotional extreme.

“We do nothing.”

“Nothing?” This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How can we?”

“We have to, for now, until they make a mistake. That’ll happen, sweetheart, I promise you, and once it does, this nightmare will be over.”

“You promise?” she repeated.

Roy’s expression softened and he nodded. Offering her further reassurance, he extended his arm across the desk. Corrie reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. Her husband gazed deep into her eyes. She felt his love, his comfort, and for now it was enough. For today, for this morning at least, she would be fine. Her problem, Corrie decided, was that she was just so tired. Everything would seem less frightening if she could get even one decent night’s sleep.

The front door to the office opened, and Roy abruptly released her and stood. From his years of police work he was always on the alert, never more so than now.

“Mom, Dad?” Their daughter’s voice rang from the outer office where Corrie’s desk was situated.

“Linnette,” Corrie cried eagerly, although her enthusiasm might have seemed a little strained. “We’re in here.”

Their daughter came into the room, then paused, an uncertain expression on her face. She was petite like Corrie, with dark hair and eyes. Also like Corrie, Linnette had excelled in school, and because she was the daughter of a policeman, she’d always been sheltered. Her studies had kept her from pursuing much of a social life, but Corrie hoped that would change now. Linnette had never had a serious boyfriend.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Linnette glanced suspiciously from Corrie to Roy and back again. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine,” Corrie assured her in a rush. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

Their daughter was far too intuitive to be easily fooled, but thankfully she let it pass. “I’ve found an apartment,” Linnette announced and did a small jig around the office.

“Where?” Corrie asked, hoping it was in town. Linnette had been hired by the new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic as a physician assistant, and Corrie was thrilled to have her closer.

“It’s on the cove, just down from the Waterfront Park,” Linnette explained. “The complex next to the Holiday Inn Express.”

Corrie knew the apartment building, since she passed it nearly every day when she went for her afternoon walk. The building was close to the marina and a short distance from the library. The two-story complex had a fabulous water view of the cove and lighthouse, with the Bremerton shipyard in the distance. As far as Corrie was concerned, this was perfect.

“I hope they aren’t charging you an arm and a leg,” Roy cautioned, but Corrie could tell he was pleased.

“The rent, compared to what I was paying in Seattle, is a bargain.”

“Good.”

Roy was still protective of his little girl. Unfortunately, he had a difficult time expressing his feelings for his children—especially their son. Mack and his father were constantly at odds. In Corrie’s opinion, they were too much alike. Mack seemed to know exactly what to say to irritate Roy. And Roy wasn’t blameless, either; he seemed to go out of his way to find fault with their son. Because of the tension between them, they generally avoided each other. Corrie didn’t like it. Most of the time, she felt trapped in the middle. Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Linnette, who was two years older than her brother.

Linnette was talking about the apartment and the move-in date and her job at the clinic. Corrie nodded at the appropriate moments but only listened with half an ear. Roy returned to his work while Corrie walked back to her desk, Linnette following her.

“Mom,” Linnette said as soon as they were in the other room. She lowered her voice, and her face was thoughtful. Concerned. “Are you sure everything’s all right between you and Dad?”

“Of course! What makes you ask?”

Her daughter hesitated. “Just now, when I came into the office, it looked like you were ready to cry, and Dad…he—his eyes were so…hard. I’ve never seen him that intense. I didn’t know what to think.”

“You’re imagining things,” Corrie insisted.

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it later.” Her daughter could be obstinate, definitely a trait she’d inherited from Roy. The last person Corrie intended to share her worries with was Linnette. Eventually, perhaps, once this was all settled, they could laugh about it over lunch. But for now, these postcards were no laughing matter.

“You dropped a piece of mail,” Linnette said, gesturing toward the desk.

Corrie froze. “I did?”

“Yes, there was a postcard on the floor when I came in. I put it on your desk.”

Roy must have heard because he came out of the other office. His eyes met Corrie’s. “Give it to me,” he instructed.

A small protest rose from her throat as she walked over to retrieve the card. Carefully she turned it over and read the message before handing it to Roy.

It said in large block letters: ARE YOU THINKING YET?

“Mom,” Linnette demanded. “You’d better tell me what’s going on.”

Two

Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes worked cheerfully in her kitchen, baking a large batch of cinnamon rolls, Ben’s favorite. After nearly sixty years as Charlotte Jefferson, she had to think twice to remember that she and Ben were actually married. A woman her age didn’t expect to find love this late in life. Like so much else in the past few years, romance had come as a very nice surprise.

“It sure smells good in there,” Ben called out from the living room where he sat, feet propped up on the ottoman. The Bremerton morning newspaper was folded over as he completed the New York Times crossword puzzle. Charlotte was impressed by his skill with words and his wide general knowledge. She also liked his lack of arrogance—he used a pencil to fill it in.

“The first batch will be out of the oven soon,” she promised. She enjoyed baking, especially when there was someone who appreciated her homemade treats. Ben certainly did, but he preferred his cinnamon rolls without raisins. She liked the raisins and Jack, her rascal of a son-in-law, did too. The solution was easy enough; she simply split the batch in half.

Her husband of little more than a month was a handsome man, a Cesar Romero lookalike and a few years younger than Charlotte. Their age difference of four years didn’t bother him and it didn’t bother her, either. Charlotte was a young seventy-seven. While still in her teens, she’d married Clyde Jefferson; that was toward the end of the Second World War. Women married much younger back in those days, she reflected. Together Clyde and Charlotte had raised their children in Cedar Cove. Olivia, her daughter, was a family court judge and still lived here. Her son, Will, had moved to Atlanta.

Cedar Cove, where she’d lived for most of her life, was situated on the Kitsap Peninsula across Puget Sound from Seattle, and it was a thriving community. With a population of little over seven thousand, the town was small enough to be friendly, but large enough to have its own medical facility.

The new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic was due to officially open in the middle of November. Charlotte beamed with pride, knowing that without her and Ben and her friends from the Senior Center, there wouldn’t be a clinic.

Even Olivia, her own daughter, hadn’t seen the need for one, since the hospital in Bremerton was less than half an hour away, and there were good doctors in town. All of that was true, but Charlotte felt Cedar Cove should have a more complete medical facility, where emergencies could be handled. Half an hour was a long time to wait if you were having a heart attack! It could make the difference between life and death. Ben had felt the same way, and the cause had bonded them, especially when they were arrested for their peaceful demonstration. That rankled even now, but nearly the entire town had showed up to support her, Ben and their comrades in court. Just remembering how her friends had gathered around them was enough to make Charlotte’s eyes fill with tears.

But, she reminded herself, that was neither here nor there; the clinic had been built and the staff hired, including the McAfees’ daughter, Linnette, a physician assistant.

The phone rang, and Charlotte glanced at the kitchen clock, slightly annoyed that anyone would be phoning so early on a Saturday morning. To her astonishment, it was nearly ten.

“I’ll get it.” As she reached for the telephone, she noticed that Harry, her black cat, was curled up in Ben’s lap. Now this was progress. Harry was Charlotte’s protector and he wasn’t fond of visitors. It had taken him half of this first month to get accustomed to Ben’s presence and that long again to have anything to do with him.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully into the receiver. Clyde used to say that Charlotte was born in a good mood. She had a natural inclination toward happiness; while some looked at the world as a place of gloom and sadness, she saw the positive things in life, even though she, too, had experienced great sorrows.

“Is my father there?” a rather pleasant male voice asked. Then, as if to clarify the point, he added, “Ben Rhodes.”

“Yes, of course. Is this Stephen?”

Her question was followed by an awkward laugh. “No, it’s David. I’m calling from California.”

“Hello, David,” Charlotte said warmly. “I’m so sorry you weren’t able to make it to our wedding. You were missed.”

Ben’s youngest son seemed taken aback by her friendliness. “I wish I could’ve been there, but I’m sure Dad explained that I got tied up with a work situation.”

Ben hadn’t said anything about either son’s absence, and Charlotte hadn’t pressured him with questions. She wasn’t sure what kind of relationship Ben had with his children. He rarely mentioned them and avoided the topic whenever she brought it up. And yet this young man seemed so likable and polite.

“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to meeting you, David.”

“I’m eager to meet you, too, Charlotte. My father’s a sly old fox. First he moves to Cedar Cove, when he could just as well have moved closer to either Stephen or me, and then he marries again. I don’t mind telling you that was a real surprise for the family. A most delightful surprise, of course.”

“I was thrilled when your father came into my life,” Charlotte said, charmed by David Rhodes. When neither David nor Stephen made it to the wedding, she feared there must be some problem between Ben and his sons—a fear reinforced by Ben’s apparent unwillingness to talk about them. Maybe there was no problem, after all. David certainly appeared to be an agreeable young man.

“Is my father there?” he asked again.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, but I do tend to chatter. I’ll get him right away.” Charlotte set down the phone and discovered that Ben was watching her. “It’s your son. David.”

Ben carefully dislodged Harry, laid down the newspaper and stood. “Did he say what he wanted?”

Ben’s frown confused her. David had been gracious and warm in his manner and given no hint of any tension in the family.

Returning to the kitchen, Charlotte couldn’t help overhearing Ben once he’d picked up the phone. She didn’t mean to pry, but she did admit to being curious.

“Hello, David,” Ben said coolly.

It sounded as if Ben and his son were estranged, and that saddened her. She wondered what had happened. A misunderstanding? A long-held grudge? Or simply years of insufficient contact? And why wouldn’t Ben tell her? After his less-than-enthusiastic greeting, he was silent for some time. Unfortunately Charlotte was privy to only one side of the conversation.

“I believe we’ve already gone over this a number of times. The answer is no, so please don’t ask again.”

Ben’s words were followed by another lengthy pause.

Charlotte joined Ben and slipped her arm around him, offering her love and support. Her husband should be grateful David had phoned and that he and Charlotte had now had a chance to meet, even if it was only by phone. The last people Charlotte had expected to disapprove of their marriage had been their children. In fact, Olivia’s objection to her remarriage had caused the first major rift in their relationship. Olivia’s lack of faith had hurt Charlotte deeply. Ben’s son, however, didn’t seem to have any opposition to her marrying his father.

“I’ll check,” Ben said. He held the receiver against his shoulder. “David will be in Seattle on business early next month and he wants to know if we can join him for dinner.”

Charlotte smiled. “Tell him I’d love to.”

Ben frowned again, as if he wasn’t sure what to say as he brought the receiver back to his ear. “It appears we can make it,” he said in lackluster tones.

Charlotte resisted the urge to poke him in the ribs with her elbow. This was no way to act! Despite their apparent falling out, David was making an effort; the least Ben could do was meet him halfway.

Ben reached for the pencil dangling from a string by the calendar and wrote down the date and time. “We’ll walk onto the Bremerton ferry,” he told his son, “and take a taxi to the restaurant. We’ll meet you there at seven.” With no further conversation, Ben replaced the receiver.

He turned back to her. “As you might’ve guessed, my son and I have had our share of differences.”

“He seems like such a nice young man.”

“He can be,” Ben murmured, his face impassive, difficult to read. “Especially when he wants something.”

“Oh.” Perhaps David had more than one reason for getting in touch with his father. “Did you find out what he wants, then?” she asked tentatively. She wouldn’t ask too insistently. But Ben was closing himself off from her and Charlotte found that troublesome.

Ben shook his head. “I generally don’t ask David a lot of questions,” he said. “I didn’t question him when he left his wife of one year for his secretary—and abandoned his infant daughter. That second marriage didn’t last long, either.” He paused. “Frankly, David is a disappointment to me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say it, but her own son was a disappointment to her, too. Olivia had never said a word, nor had Olivia’s best friend, Grace Sherman. But Charlotte had caught wind of what Will had done from something Justine, her granddaughter, had mentioned. It had been a casual, offhand remark about how Grace was trying to patch up her romance with Cliff after her Internet relationship with Will. Apparently this wasn’t the first time, either—at least for Will. Georgia, his wife, had hinted that Will had a problem with fidelity. Charlotte didn’t know whether he’d had actual affairs or they were all e-mail relationships. She had no idea what had happened in her son’s life to explain his behavior. Clyde would roll over in his grave if he learned of the careless way their son was treating his marriage vows.

“I wish now I’d said we couldn’t make it,” Ben muttered.

“But we can. I want to meet your son.”

“He’s a self-centered young man. Well, not that young anymore. He’s over forty now. I suppose I’m to blame for his selfishness. Joan spoiled them both while they were growing up. I was so preoccupied with my Navy career and gone so much of the time that I didn’t realize until it was too late. Unfortunately both my sons lack discipline and self-control. When I recognized what they’d become, they were already adults.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a perfectly lovely dinner,” she said in a soothing voice.

“I’m not,” Ben countered sadly. “But we’ve made the commitment, so we’ll do as David wishes and go into Seattle. I want you to meet my children, but it’s important that you know in advance the kind of men they are.”

“My children have disappointed me at times, too,” Charlotte confessed. She’d been mortified to learn that at one point her own daughter had hired Roy McAfee to investigate Ben’s background.

Ben stared blankly out the window. When he spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful. “Sometimes I feel as if my sons begrudge me any happiness. I think they believe I’d be more use to them dead.” At Charlotte’s gasp, he added, “If I know David, and I do, he’s counting on his inheritance to get him out of another financial mess.”

“But Ben, you should’ve told him…” Before their marriage, Ben and Charlotte had adjusted their wills. They’d left the majority of their estates to each other. Ben had left one-third of the remainder to each of his sons, and the last third to charity.

“It’s important that we attend this dinner with a positive attitude,” Charlotte warned.

“I know.” Ben sighed heavily and then hugged her.

“Everything will work out just fine,” she whispered. She had a good feeling about meeting David. She wanted to be a peacemaker in the family, to bring Ben and his sons together, and hoped that David would eventually grow to love her.

The timer on the oven buzzed and Ben lifted his head. “Does that mean what I think it does?” he asked.

“As soon as these cinnamon buns cool down, I’ll frost them and give you a small sample.”

“A small sample?” he protested.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I don’t want you to ruin your lunch.”

“I won’t,” he promised. Ben sounded like a youngster, pleading with her.

“Sometimes I think you married me because of my baking,” Charlotte said, smiling to show she didn’t mean it.

The laughter fled from his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Then you’d be wrong, Charlotte. I married you because I’ve never loved a woman as much as I love you.”

Three

Cecilia Randall arrived at Smith, Cox and Jefferson Accounting ten minutes early on Monday morning. She was just as glad to get to work. Being home by herself, without her husband, was lonely, despite her friends. The weekends were the worst, especially now that she was pregnant. Ian, her Navy husband, was out to sea on the aircraft carrier USS George Washington. Despite her reassurances, Ian worried about her—with reason, as he pointed out. Everything in their current situation was exactly the same as it had been with Allison, their first child. And Allison had been born with a defective heart.

Ian hadn’t been with Cecilia when Allison was born. Nor had he been there when Cecilia buried their infant daughter. Standing alone at the tiny gravesite had nearly destroyed her and subsequently their marriage. If not for the wisdom of a family court judge who’d denied their divorce on a technicality, they wouldn’t be together now.

Pressing her hand against her stomach, Cecilia sent her unborn daughter thoughts of love and reassurance. It would be different this time, with this baby. But everything had seemed normal with Allison, too. Cecilia quickly flung aside the doubts that pummeled her. Ian had enough of those for both of them.

Cecilia was five months along now and happier than she could remember being in a long time. She desperately wanted this baby. If it had been up to Ian, they wouldn’t ever have children again. He was afraid. Cecilia was, too, but her desire for a family had prevailed over her fears.

“Morning,” Zachary Cox, her boss, said absently. He sorted through his mail as he walked past her desk, which was located outside his office.

“Morning,” she returned.

“Allison will be in this afternoon,” he said, looking up from the mail long enough to catch Cecilia’s eye. “She’s trying to earn money for a car. Her mother and I told her we’d match whatever she managed to save. I’m hoping there’s enough to do around here to keep her occupied for the next few months.”

Cecilia nodded, excited about seeing Mr. Cox’s teenage daughter again. Cecilia had been hired while Mr. and Mrs. Cox were going through a divorce. The same judge who’d denied her and Ian’s divorce had made the joint custody decision in their case. Judge Olivia Lockhart had stated that the children and not the adults were the ones who needed a stable life. Instead of shuffling between residences, the kids, Allison and Eddie, were to remain in the family home and the Coxes would alternate, moving in and out every few days. It had worked well—better than expected—and before long Zach and Rosie Cox were back together.

Soon after Cecilia had begun working for Mr. Cox, he’d started bringing in his troubled teenage daughter. The after-school job was an effort to keep an eye on the rebellious fifteen-year-old and to limit her exposure to a group of out-of-control friends she’d recently taken up with. Despite all that, Cecilia was almost immediately drawn to her. The fact that Allison shared the same name as her own daughter had cemented their bond.

They’d quickly become friends and Allison often confided in her or asked for advice. Cecilia had watched her blossom from an irrational, angry girl into a lovely young woman of seventeen. The contrast between then and now was striking. Cecilia sometimes fantasized that this was how her own daughter would’ve looked and acted at this age had she lived.

“I’ll be happy to keep her busy,” Cecilia assured her boss. There were always a number of small tasks she didn’t get to by the end of the day, and this would help her catch up before she took her maternity leave.

“Great.” Mr. Cox entered his office, still perusing his mail. “Thanks, Cecilia.”

Cecilia was busy all morning with only a short break—a telephone conversation with her best friend, Cathy Lackey, whose husband was aboard the George Washington with Ian. The two of them had formed their own support group and relied on each other when their husbands were out at sea. Rarely a day passed that they weren’t in touch with each other.

At three that afternoon, Allison Cox showed up at the office, just missing her father, who’d left to meet with a client. Allison was willowy and classic-featured, a lovely girl. She wore her dark-brown hair long, all the way to the middle of her back. As she removed her gray wool coat, Cecilia saw that she’d dressed for the office in a green plaid skirt and white turtleneck sweater. When Cecilia had first met her, Allison’s favorite color was black. The girl had rebelled against the destruction of her family and lashed out at those around her. Cecilia liked to think that their friendship had helped Allison. In reality, she supposed, it was her parents’ reconciliation that had changed the girl’s outlook on life. Still Cecilia liked to think she’d been a good influence, and Mr. Cox had frequently made a point of telling her she had.

That was two years ago, and Allison was now a high school senior.

“It’s so good to see you,” Allison said, hugging Cecilia, although it’d been less than a month since they’d spent time together. “How’s our baby doing?”

Cecilia pressed her hand to her stomach. “She’s kicking. Want to feel?”

Allison’s eyes widened. “Sure.”

Cecilia held the girl’s hand over her stomach and watched as Allison stared intently, bit her lower lip and then after a long moment, dejectedly shook her head. “I don’t feel anything.”

“It might be a little early yet,” Cecilia murmured, trying to remember how far along she’d been with the last pregnancy before Ian could feel their daughter’s movements.

Disappointed, Allison dropped her hand. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work.”

Cecilia set her up at a vacant desk across from her own. During tax season, when the accounting firm hired extra help, every square inch of space was used by temporary employees. It got fairly chaotic from January through April of every year.

Allison had been working for an hour when Mary Lou, who staffed the front desk, hurried into their work area. “There’s a young man asking to see you,” Mary Lou said to Allison. She cast a doubtful look at Cecilia as if to say she wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing.

“Did he give you his name?” Allison asked.

“No, but he said you’d know who he is.”

“What’s he wearing?”

Mary Lou edged closer and lowered her voice. “He has a goatee and has on a long black coat that’s got chains attached. He’s wearing a big cross, too. I don’t mind telling you, he looks a bit scary.”

“That’s Anson.” Allison stood and went out to the front. She was gone for ten minutes and was clearly pleased—no, downright jubilant—when she returned.

Cecilia was more than a little curious. “What was that about?” she asked. Without being obvious, she’d managed to get a glimpse of this Anson character through one of the office windows. Cecilia understood Mary Lou’s concerns. The boy’s hair was long, greasy and dark. His overcoat fanned out from his sides, as though he had weapons concealed beneath it. Presumably he didn’t, but still…He wasn’t the type of boy Cecilia expected Allison to be interested in.

“I barely know him,” Allison claimed. “He’s in my French class and he sits beside me. We’ve talked a couple of times and that’s about it.”

“How did he know you were here?”

Allison shrugged. “One of my friends must’ve told him.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“Not really. He asked about our French assignment.” She grinned shyly and glanced down at the floor. “That was just an excuse, though, ‘cause then he asked what I was doing tonight.”

Cecilia nodded, a little worried about the girl’s attraction to this self-styled rebel.

“He lives with his mother,” Allison added.

“Oh.”

“I don’t think they get along very well,” she said thoughtfully.

Cecilia didn’t know what to say. “Would you go out with him if he asked?” she murmured. Whether Allison admitted it or not, she was attracted to the boy. Everything about her said so.

“I…I don’t know, but it’s irrelevant. Anson hasn’t asked and I doubt that he will. Guys like Anson don’t go out. They hang out.”

It was obvious that Mr. Cox hadn’t met the young man, and Cecilia could only imagine how he’d react if he found his daughter with Anson.

“Be careful,” Cecilia warned softly.

“Why?”

“Bad boys can be attractive, which translates into dangerous.”

Allison smiled. “Don’t worry. Like I said, we hardly know each other.”

Cecilia didn’t mean to doubt her, but there was trouble coming; she could feel it. Cecilia just hoped Allison knew what she was doing.

She didn’t have time to think about Allison after she left work because she was meeting Cathy and her three-year-old son, Andy. Cecilia drove straight to her friend’s house without stopping at home. The two of them were putting together Christmas packages to mail off to Ian and Cathy’s husband, Andrew. Cecilia had already filled the trunk of her car with Ian’s gifts. She looked forward to the evening and to the take-out Chinese dinner she and Cathy planned to order.

“Did you get an e-mail from Ian this morning?” Cathy asked.

Cecilia shook her head. “Maybe there’ll be one at home.” Ian never talked about what he did for the Navy. His job had something to do with guided missile systems and involved computers and other advanced technology. Ian couldn’t discuss the details of his Navy life for reasons of national security, and Cecilia accepted that. She didn’t care what the United States Navy had him do, as long as her husband arrived home safe and sound. Currently the George Washington was somewhere in the Persian Gulf, but exactly where was a mystery.

Ian e-mailed her at least once a day. He didn’t have time to send long messages, but even a short note raised Cecilia’s spirits. He insisted that he needed to hear from her, too, and just as often.

Because Cathy was a stay-at-home mom, she’d picked up the necessary mailing supplies. While Andy sat on the floor and played with puzzles, the two women packaged their various gifts.

“You won’t believe what’s in here,” Cathy said, holding up a small jewelry-sized box.

“You’re sending Andrew a ring?” Cecilia asked, puzzled.

“No, it’s a sheer black nightgown—with the promise that I’ll wear it for him when he gets home.”

Cecilia giggled. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” she said, remembering that she herself had done something similar once…

Cathy laughed, too. “I doubt Andrew will think of it that way. I’m ready for a second child. As far as I’m concerned, little Andy needs a baby sister.”

Cecilia managed to smile but quickly looked away and resumed her wrapping. Her life would be so different if Allison had lived. There were no guarantees that the heart ailment that had killed their daughter wouldn’t afflict this second baby. Cecilia prayed with everything in her that the child she carried now would be healthy.

Four

Maryellen Bowman arrived home from her job at the Harbor Street Art Gallery and smiled when Jon stepped outside to greet her. She felt a sense of deep contentment at the sight of her husband. From her car seat behind Maryellen, two-year-old Katie let out a squeal of delight the instant she saw her father. She started kicking and swinging her arms, eager to escape the confines of the protective seat.

“I know, honey, I know.” Maryellen laughed. “I’m happy to see your daddy, too.”

By the time Maryellen had parked, Jon was waiting by the car. He opened the back door and freed Katie, who immediately squirmed and wanted down. Now that she was walking, she was impossible to restrain. Still holding Katie, Jon walked around the front of the car to hug Maryellen.

“Welcome home,” he said and kissed her hungrily. He wove his free hand into her dark hair and brought his mouth to hers.

Between them, their daughter chattered insistently, seeking attention. Katie didn’t take kindly to being ignored. Maryellen, however, barely noticed her objections.

“You make it worth coming home,” she whispered, sighing with her eyes closed. Her husband could win a kissing contest—not that she’d let him enter even if there was such an event.

His arm around her waist, Jon led her into the home he’d built with his own two hands. The property, with its view of the Seattle skyline across Puget Sound, had been an inheritance from his grandfather, and Jon had devoted countless hours to landscaping the grounds. The house was everything Maryellen could possibly want. It had spacious rooms, high ceilings, fireplaces and balconies, and a wide oak staircase to the second floor. A sweeping panorama of the water and the city lights beyond was available from every room. Her artist husband had designed and then painstakingly built the place, at the same time he was making his mark as a professional photographer. Maryellen loved her husband heart and soul, reveling in his many talents.

“I’ve got dinner started,” Jon told her as she stepped inside the house and was met by the scent of roasting chicken. On top of everything else, Jon was a gifted chef. Maryellen had to pinch herself every day, marveling that she was loved by such an extraordinary man.

“How was your day?” he asked, as Maryellen hung up her coat and tended to Katie.

“Busy.”

“I’d rather you were home with me.”

“I know—I’d like to be here, too.” The money Jon earned from his photographs was impressive but not yet sufficient for all their financial needs. Then there was the question of medical insurance, which was currently provided through her employer. They’d already made one giant leap of faith when Jon left his job as chef for The Lighthouse restaurant earlier in the year. Maryellen had managed the Cedar Cove Art Gallery for the past ten years and the owners had come to rely on her. She hoped to train her assistant, Lois Habbersmith, to assume her role, but, so far, that hadn’t worked out as well as she’d hoped. Lois was a good employee but she didn’t want the responsibility of being manager. Only after several months had she finally admitted that to Maryellen.

“I’m planning to leave by the end of next year,” Maryellen said as she reached for the mail, which Jon had placed on the kitchen counter.

“Next year?” Jon yelped.

“I know, I’m disappointed, too, but the time will go fast. It’s already autumn.” Her fingers stilled as she came across the envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Jon Bowman. One glance at the return address told her the letter was from Jon’s father and stepmother in Oregon. It remained unopened.

When Maryellen looked up, she found her husband watching her, almost as if he’d anticipated her reaction. “It’s from your family,” she said unnecessarily.

“I know.”

“You didn’t open it.” This, too, was obvious.

“No,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “And I won’t. If it’d been strictly up to me I would’ve tossed it in the garbage. But your name’s on it, too.” Anger burned in his eyes. Years earlier, his parents had betrayed Jon and lied in order to save their younger son, Jon’s half brother, from a prison sentence. In saving Jim, they’d sacrificed Jon. While Jon, innocent of all charges, served seven years in prison, his younger brother continued to abuse drugs and eventually died of an overdose.

After he was released from prison, Jon had supported himself by working as a short-order cook. When he wasn’t working, he was taking landscape photographs, which began to receive good reviews and significant interest from buyers. Among other places, his work was displayed in the Harbor Street Art Gallery, where he met Maryellen. Their courtship was long and tempestuous, and only after Katie was born did they marry.

At the time of her daughter’s birth, Maryellen was convinced she didn’t need or want a husband. She’d married young and unwisely while in college, and it had been a disaster. When she discovered she was pregnant with Katie, she was determined to manage on her own. Other women were single mothers; she could do it, too. She’d quickly learned how wrong she was. Katie wanted her daddy, and Maryellen soon realized she needed Jon in their lives. After their marriage, they were blissfully happy for a short time. Then Maryellen had stumbled upon a stack of unopened letters from Jon’s parents.

Although she knew Jon would disapprove, she’d secretly contacted the Bowmans and mailed pictures of Katie. As Katie’s grandparents, Maryellen felt they had a right to know about their only grandchild. Her letter, unfortunately, had heightened their efforts to make peace with their son, which had only infuriated him. Jon refused to have anything to do with them. And he saw her actions, in contacting them, as another betrayal. He’d been enraged with her. Her duplicity and his stubborn unwillingness to forgive had almost ruined their marriage.

At the time, Maryellen had just learned she was pregnant. She hadn’t told Jon. How could she, when he shut her out—no matter what she said or did? Having failed at one marriage, she believed her actions had killed his love for her and that her second marriage was doomed, too. It was then, at the lowest point of her pain and loss, that she miscarried her baby.

That had been six weeks earlier. Six weeks during which they’d carefully avoided the subject of Jon’s parents. Together they grieved over the loss of this pregnancy and clung to each other, but their ability to trust was still shaky.

Maryellen studied the envelope. Jon hadn’t immediately thrown the letter away, or hidden it, as he had previous ones. That was progress, she supposed. Over the intervening weeks, they’d had numerous talks on forgiveness, and she felt he was finally willing to listen. This letter would be the proving ground.

“What would you like me to do with it?” she asked.

Jon buried his hands in his pockets and gazed up at the ceiling. “You don’t want the answer to that.”

“Yes, I do,” she told him calmly.

“Burn it.”

She’d hoped and prayed that he’d conquered some of his bitterness. “But you didn’t burn it.”

“No,” he admitted reluctantly.

Maryellen noticed that he stood about as far away from her as he could and still be heard. “Why not? I need never have known about this letter. Even if my name is on it.”

He laughed, but it was a defeated sound. “You’d know. I’m incapable of keeping anything from you.”

Maryellen moved from behind the kitchen counter and tentatively stepped closer to her husband. “Jon?” she asked again, keeping her voice gentle. “Tell me what I should do with the letter.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he demanded.

She paused. “Like what?”

“Like I’m such a disappointment to you.”

“Never that,” she whispered. Maryellen wrapped her arms around his waist and lowered her head to his chest. Words weren’t necessary to convey her love and her pride. He was her world, her life, and nothing, not even his relationship with his family, was worth risking the heaven she’d found in him.

It didn’t take long for Jon to slide his arms around her. The tightness of his embrace told Maryellen what she already knew—that he didn’t want to risk losing her, either. After several moments of holding each other, Jon exhaled a long, deep breath.

“Go ahead and read it. I know that’s what you want to do.”

“It is,” she whispered.

“But don’t tell me what it says.”

His response bothered her, but she wouldn’t rush him. That was the mistake she’d made earlier.

When Katie toddled past on her way to the kitchen, Maryellen left Jon to swoop her daughter into her arms. She set Katie in her high chair and handed her a graham cracker, then reached for the letter.

Jon turned away as if he couldn’t bear to see Maryellen tear open the envelope.

The letter was brief. Jon’s father had suffered a stroke. Fortunately, he’d received medical attention in time, so there was no permanent damage. Jon’s stepmother felt Maryellen would want to know and perhaps she could mention it to Jon.

“It’s about your father,” she said, laying down the letter.

Jon bristled. “I told you I don’t want to hear.”

“But he’s had a stroke.”

“Maryellen, how many times do I have to say it? I don’t care. He’s out of my life. As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. That man gave up the right to be my father the day he lied on the witness stand and sent me to hell for seven years.”

Katie set the cracker down in her tray and stared wide-eyed at her father.

“You talk about forgiveness, and that’s real easy for you. You weren’t the one in that rat hole. You weren’t the one who had to endure it.” His voice grew harsher with each word until Katie started to cry.

Jon’s shoulders slumped forward and he hurried to his daughter, lifting Katie from the high chair and cradling her in his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Daddy didn’t mean to shout.”

Dinner was uncomfortable, but Maryellen made an effort and so did Jon. After Katie’s bath, Maryellen rocked her and read a bedtime story before settling her in the crib. Once there, Katie put her thumb in her mouth and promptly went to sleep.

Jon had the television on when Maryellen walked down the stairs and joined him. She sat beside her husband on the sofa and rested her head on his shoulder. As if he felt the need to have her close, he draped his arm around her and nuzzled her neck.

Maryellen smiled contentedly. Since the miscarriage, their love life had been on hold while her body healed. Letting him know she wanted him, Maryellen slipped her hand around his neck and turned so their mouths could meet. Jon’s hand found its way under her sweater to cup her breast. Her nipples instantly hardened and a sigh rumbled through him.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, between deep breathless kisses.

“You certainly are.”

He smiled at her bad pun even as he kissed her.

Taking him by the hand, Maryellen led her husband up the stairway to their bedroom.

Their lovemaking was fierce, urgent, powerful. While they held each other in the aftermath, Maryellen ran her hand down Jon’s back. Nothing was worth disrupting the intimacy and love they shared. She hoped that eventually Jon would be able to reconnect with his parents, but she wouldn’t force him into something he wasn’t willing to do.

They released each other, and her husband lay beside her, supporting his weight on one elbow as he brushed the hair from her damp face. He kissed her again, his touch tender with his love.

“How bad is he?” he asked, his voice husky in the darkness. He was referring to his father.

The question pleased Maryellen. “There’s no permanent damage.”

Jon sighed audibly. “Good.”

Perhaps he’d come farther than she realized.

Five

Linnette McAfee stood in the middle of her empty apartment, surveying her new home. The view of the cove was spectacular, with the lighthouse far in the distance. The Bremerton shipyard lay directly across the water, its massive ships glowing in the afternoon sunlight, battleship-gray against an azure sky. Living in a small town would be an adjustment, and yet, her parents had made the transition easily enough. Linnette had every reason to believe she would, too.

“Anyone home?” There was a knock at the open door, and her mother stepped inside.

“Hi, Mom!”

“I saw your car parked outside and decided to see if you were here.”

“How did you know which apartment was mine?”

Corrie grinned. “I haven’t been married to your father all these years without developing a few detective skills of my own.” She walked farther into the room. “The door was open and I took a chance.”

Linnette spread her arms. “So, what do you think?” she asked, pleased with her new apartment. She’d lived on campus while attending the University of Washington and then later shared an apartment with a friend while she did her advanced studies.

“I think it’s great,” Corrie said, moving into the kitchen. The area was compact but well-designed and convenient.

“I like that it has two bedrooms,” Linnette said, eagerly leading her mother down the hallway to the empty rooms. Both bedrooms were larger than the one she had in Seattle. With this new apartment, Linnette was getting double the space for half the rent. Of course, her salary wasn’t nearly as high as what she would’ve earned had she accepted a job in Seattle. But staying in Seattle had never been her intention. From the moment she’d made the decision to become a physician assistant, Linnette had set her sights on working in a small rural community.

That description didn’t exactly fit Cedar Cove, but the town was lovely and it was familiar—and she’d have the advantage of being near her parents. Which was definitely a bonus, since Linnette had always been close to them.

“I was thinking I’d set up this bedroom as an office,” Linnette explained as they stood in the doorway of the second and smaller bedroom.

“When are you officially moving?”

“The first of the month. Mack’s going to help.”

“Your dad will, too,” Corrie offered. “And of course I’ll be here.”

Linnette shook her head. “Dad’s not helping, not with his back. Besides, you know as well as I do that it’s best to keep Mack as far away from Dad as possible.”

Her mother’s eyes grew sad. “I don’t know what it is with those two.”

Linnette rolled her eyes. “I do. They’re both stubborn and opinionated and too much alike for their own good.”

Corrie agreed. “Mack makes an effort on holidays, but it’s hard for him to hold his tongue.”

The problem, in Linnette’s opinion, was that her father disapproved of Mack. Her brother had dropped out of college and worked as a postal employee, a job he seemed to enjoy. Roy thought that with his brains and background, Mack could do better. His attitude infuriated her brother. Although she kept out of the fray, Linnette sided with Mack. This was his life and he should do as he pleased.

“One of these days,” she said briskly, “we should lock them in a closet and force them to settle this, once and for all.”

Her mother shook her head. “I absolutely refuse to get involved. I hate being caught in the middle.”

Linnette felt the same. She led the way back to the living room, considering where to hang her few pictures and framed posters as she walked. Pride of place would go to a beautiful Jon Bowman photograph her parents had given her for Christmas last year—fir trees on a mountainside. The perspective made it much more than simply a pretty picture. Should she hang it between the two windows or—

“Have you contacted Cal Washburn yet?” her mother asked, interrupting her deliberations.

“Who?”

“The young man I bought for you at the Dog and Bachelor Auction last July. You know, the fund-raiser for the animal shelter.”

An immediate protest rose as Linnette struggled to tell her mother that she wasn’t interested in a blind date with a stranger. Okay, so her brother loved his dog, who’d come as part of the package. Cal and the Australian Shepherd Mack had named Lucky were on the auction block together. But that didn’t mean Linnette was going to hit it off with this bachelor.

“I really think Cal’s a fine young man,” her mother said.

“Then you date him,” Linnette teased, hoping to find a gentle way of getting out of this.

“The least you can do is call him. Let me tell you a bit about Cal. He works for Cliff Harding on his horse ranch. I never quite understood what Cal does, but he appears to be a trainer of some sort. I don’t know that much about horses.”

“I don’t either.” The more Linnette heard, the less enthusiastic she became. She was going to spend the evening with a man who hung around horses all day. Great.

Corrie frowned impatiently. “Don’t give me that look. You might be pleasantly surprised.”

Linnette had been avoiding this conversation. “I did mention that the clinic hired Dr. Chad Timmons, didn’t I? We worked together while I was in school and, Mom, he’s just fabulous.”

Her mother made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Dr. Timmons is everything I want in a husband. He’s smart, witty, drop-dead gorgeous. Plus he’s kind and considerate. He’s my idea of the perfect man.” Linnette figured her chances of snagging him had risen substantially when he was hired to work at the medical center. She’d nearly turned cartwheels down the street in her excitement. Having Chad right there, in Cedar Cove, made her position at the clinic a million times more appealing.

“In other words, you’ve set your sights on this doctor?”

Linnette grinned sheepishly. “Nothing gets past my mother.”

“Very funny. What about Cal Washburn?”

Linnette was putting her foot down. She wasn’t moving to this town so her parents could run her life—or her love life. She’d had enough of that while she lived at home. Her father had drilled every date unmercifully. It was a wonder she’d found a boy willing to take her to the Junior-Senior prom.

“Ah…I suppose I could go out with this horse guy once, but that’s it, Mom.”

“That would please me, considering the amount of cash I paid for your date.”

“Okay, okay, I said I’d do it.” She’d postponed it as long as she could but, yes, eventually she’d get in touch with him.

“You’ll call?” Corrie pressed.

“Can I move into my apartment first?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to set the date now.” Corrie dug around in her purse and found the envelope with Cal’s information, as well as an old receipt. “I gave you his phone number already.”

“I lost it,” Linnette muttered. She had lost it, accidentally on purpose.

“Yeah, right.” Corrie was busy scribbling the number on the back of the receipt.

Linnette wanted to grind her teeth in frustration. Her mother wasn’t going to let this go. “Think how useful it would be to have a doctor in the family,” she said flippantly.

Corrie glared at her and handed over the phone number she’d written down. “Just do it, okay? It’s only the one date and it’d mean a lot to me if you followed up on this one small thing.”

“Okay, okay,” Linnette muttered again, feeling disgruntled about the whole situation. But then—as her mother had said—she might be pleasantly surprised.

“Promise me you’ll call him right away.”

“Ah…”

“Linnette, how often do I ask anything of you?”

The old guilt trick, and it worked every time. “Okay, I promise I’ll arrange to meet this bachelor guy as soon as possible.”

“You’ll like him, Linnette, only…” Her mother hesitated, biting her lower lip as if she wasn’t sure she should continue.

“Only what?”

Corrie sighed. “Apparently Cal Washburn has a slight…speech impediment.”

Linnette’s mouth fell open. If an evening with a guy who smelled like horse manure wasn’t bad enough, she might not be able to understand a word he said. This was definitely more than she’d bargained for.

“Mom—”

Corrie walked backward toward the open door. “You promised, remember?”

Linnette shook her head as her mother disappeared around the corner and out of the apartment. She’d be moving to Cedar Cove the following week. She wanted this date over with as quickly as possible. She just hoped Chad didn’t hear about it.

Reaching for her purse, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number on the slip of paper Corrie had given her. Putting this off any longer would only create unnecessary conflict with her mother.

A man answered, but he sounded perfectly normal. “This is Linnette McAfee calling for Cal Washburn,” she said crisply.

“Well, hello, Linnette. Cal’s been waiting for your phone call. I’m Cliff Harding. Cal works for me.”

“Hi, Cliff. Is Cal available?”

“As a matter of fact, he’s sitting right here.”

A moment later, Cal was on the phone. “H-hello.”

“Hi, I’m Linnette McAfee,” she said quickly. So he had a slight stutter. But his speech was clear and intelligible. “Apparently my mother bought me a date with you last July at the Dog and Bachelor Auction.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I was wondering when would be convenient for me to collect on it.”

“Any…t-time.”

“I’m moving into town next weekend, but I could meet you before then.”

“How-w-w-w about nex-x-xt Friday night?”

“Okay. I’ll meet you at The Lighthouse restaurant at seven.” She suspected she’d have to do all the talking, since he seemed rather shy, no doubt because of the stutter. She’d probably have to pay for his dinner, too, she thought glumly.

“S-s-sure. Friday.”

Linnette clicked off her cell. This was the last time she’d allow her mother to do anything like this. The very last time.

Six

Grace Sherman had been looking forward to this Friday night for a long time. Cliff Harding had invited her to dinner at his house—the first sign in months that he still had feelings for her. This was just the encouragement Grace needed. She loved Cliff, but she’d done something foolish, risking her entire future with him on an Internet relationship.

It had all started when her husband of thirty-five years had disappeared. Vietnam had changed Dan, and he wasn’t the same man she’d married when he returned from the war. He’d lived a bleak, unhappy life, and often suffered from bouts of depression. After Dan’s sudden disappearance, she’d spent nearly a year searching for him, exhausting what savings she had, only to discover that her husband had driven deep into the woods with a trailer she didn’t even know he’d purchased, and killed himself.

In the months before she found out what had happened to Dan, Grace had met Cliff Harding. His patience and kindness had won her over and they’d started to see each other—but not until she’d learned Dan’s fate. Cliff was recently divorced after twenty years of marriage and dating was a new experience for them both.

In coming to know Cliff, Grace discovered that his ex-wife had been involved in multiple affairs throughout their marriage. Grace and Cliff grew close, close enough for him to fly her to Maryland to meet his daughter, Lisa. Together they’d spent Thanksgiving with Lisa and her family. That was almost two years ago.

About the same time, Will Jefferson, her best friend’s brother, had started to e-mail Grace. She’d had a crush on him as a teenager and was flattered by his attention. To this day, she wasn’t sure how it happened, but soon she was logging on to the Internet at all hours of the day and night in order to “chat” with Will. He became her addiction. She was mortified now to admit that, all along, she’d known he was married. He’d fed her lie after lie, and she’d swallowed each one because she so badly wanted to believe him. And while she maintained her online relationship with Will, she’d continued dating Cliff.

Everything seemed to blow up in her face at once. Cliff found out about her Internet relationship and Grace realized that Will was still living with his wife, Georgia, and had no intention of divorcing her.

Cliff wanted nothing more to do with Grace. He’d lived with one faithless woman and wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. He’d made it clear that they were through. Devastated, Grace could do nothing but abide by his wishes.

Then, last August, Lisa had flown out to spend time with her father. Grace would always be grateful to Cliff’s daughter for visiting her at the library, where Grace was employed. Lisa had assured Grace that Cliff still loved her and encouraged her not to give up.

That was when Grace had begun a campaign to win back Cliff Harding. She mailed him cards, sent him e-mail messages and stopped by the ranch unannounced and uninvited. Little by little she’d worn him down to the point that he’d actually sought her out for the first time in more than a year.

When she arrived home from work, Grace tried three different outfits before she was satisfied. She modeled each of her choices before Buttercup, her golden retriever, and Sherlock, her cat. Unfortunately their opinions were less than useful, although she had to laugh at Buttercup’s deep sigh. Sherlock didn’t bother to open his eyes. In the end she chose a blue denim jumper with big yellow daisies painted on the bib and a yellow turtleneck underneath. It was similar to what she’d been wearing the first day she met Cliff. This was a new beginning for them and she hoped her clothes relayed that message.

By the time Grace drove out to Cliff’s ranch in Olalla, her nerves were frayed. She so badly wanted to be part of Cliff’s life. Somehow, she had to make him understand that she wasn’t like his ex-wife. For thirty-five years she’d remained faithful to Dan and, given the opportunity, she’d be faithful to him too. She wanted Cliff to know she’d learned her lesson and learned it well. Never again would she risk losing him. If only he was willing to give her another chance…

There was no one about at the ranch as Grace pulled into the long drive, although another truck stood next to Cliff’s newly completed barn. Parking near the house, Grace hesitated, unsure where to go. When Cliff failed to answer the front door, she wandered toward the barn. Cal lived in an apartment above, and he might be able to tell her what was going on.

She was halfway to the barn when Cliff came rushing out. He stopped abruptly, staring at her, his expression confused. He was a big man with a muscular build, easily six three in height. He wore a cowboy hat and boots and looked every bit the horseman he’d become since his retirement from Boeing.

“Cliff?” she said in a tentative voice.

“What day is it?” he asked.

“Friday.”

“Is this the Friday I invited you for dinner?”

Her heart fell and she nodded. He’d forgotten. Still, she tried to smile as she said, “I’m afraid it is.”

He was immediately apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I didn’t realize it was this Friday. As you can see, we’re having a problem here.”

“What’s wrong?”

Cliff shook his head grimly. “It’s Midnight. He’s got colic.”

“Colic?” In Grace’s experience, that was an ailment babies came down with during their first few months. She remembered pacing the floor with Kelly, her youngest, as the infant screamed in unrelieved pain.

“It’s life-threatening in horses,” Cliff explained. “The vet’s here and we’re doing everything we can to save him. If worse comes to worse, surgery might be necessary.” He removed his hat and wiped his forearm across his brow. “I’m sorry, Grace, we’ll have dinner another time.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked, willing to push up her sleeves and help to whatever extent she could.

“I was about to make a pot of coffee.”

“I’ll do that and bring it out when it’s ready.”

Cliff nodded. “Great. I’d appreciate that.”

“Don’t give it a second thought.”

Once inside the kitchen, Grace searched through several cupboards until she located the coffee grounds. While the coffee brewed, she brought out bread and made half a dozen sandwiches, using the ham and cheese slices she found in the refrigerator. She wasn’t sure how long this crisis had been in effect, but she guessed that Cliff, Cal and the vet could use something to eat.

When everything was ready, Grace carried a tray with the coffeepot and a plate of sandwiches into the barn. Doc Newton was the first one to notice Grace’s presence. As she stood, she smiled her gratitude.

“I’d love a cup of that coffee. With cream,” Vicki said.

Setting down the tray, Grace filled a mug for her.

Cliff, who was on his knees beside the stallion, barely glanced over his shoulder. A large tube came out of the horse’s mouth and to Grace’s uneducated eye, the animal appeared to be in bad shape. Cal was on the other side, gently stroking the black muzzle as he talked in low, soothing tones. Grace realized that for the first time since she’d met Cal, he wasn’t stuttering. Apparently he could communicate with horses better than humans.

Grace poured Cliff a mug of hot coffee. He took it from her with a scant nod of acknowledgement. She offered some to Cal, but he shook his head.

“It’s a waiting game now,” Doc Newman told Grace.

“What are Midnight’s chances?”

The vet shrugged. “Could go either way.”

Grace knew that Cliff had a large financial investment in this stallion, but there was more to it. He loved that horse. He’d often talked about his dreams for the ranch, and it went without saying that Midnight was the very basis of Cliff’s future in ranching. She speculated that losing the stallion could set him back years. But it would be a personal loss as much as a financial one.

Not knowing what else to do, Grace stepped into the background and waited. She didn’t feel she could just walk away. She might not be able to give him any real help, but she wanted Cliff to know she cared.

After an hour she saw that she wasn’t contributing anything. No one wanted more food or coffee, so she returned to the house. It took her all of five minutes to clean up the kitchen. Bored, she turned on the television, flicking from channel to channel, not settling on any one program for more than a few minutes. Every half hour she went to the barn to see what was happening, but there seemed to be virtually no progress. As Doc Newman had said, it was a waiting game.

At ten Grace fell asleep in front of the television, waking with a start at shortly after eleven. She looked outside and saw that Doc Newman’s truck was gone. When she hurried out to the barn again, Grace saw that nothing had changed. Cliff and Cal were still with Midnight; neither seemed to notice her. As quietly as she could, she slipped out of the barn and went back to the house to collect her things.

Not wanting to interrupt Cliff, she climbed into her car and drove home, feeling depressed. She was worried about Midnight’s colic, of course, and extremely upset by Cliff’s attitude toward her. She wondered if he regretted the dinner invitation. Even if Midnight hadn’t taken sick, it wouldn’t have mattered. Cliff hadn’t even remembered this was the night she was coming to dinner. He’d made no preparations, nor had he shown the slightest interest in seeing her. If anything, he seemed happy to avoid her.

Buttercup and Sherlock were waiting when she let herself into the house and their obvious pleasure at her return comforted Grace. She saw that the message light on her phone was blinking. After leaving her purse on the washing machine, she sat down at her small kitchen table to listen, pen in hand.

A faint smile touched her lips at the sound of her best friend’s voice. Olivia wanted to hear all about Grace’s “hot” dinner date. “Phone when you get home. I don’t care how late it is.”

Reluctantly Grace reached for the telephone. Olivia answered on the first ring.

“Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than sit by the phone?” Grace chided.

“Jack’s still at the office.”

Olivia didn’t sound pleased, and Grace didn’t blame her. “It’s almost eleven-thirty!”

“Tell me about it,” Olivia muttered. “But you didn’t call to hear me complain about Jack. How’d it go with Cliff?”

“Dreadful.” Grace went on to fill in the details, ending with her suspicion that Cliff seemed to regret inviting her.

Olivia was silent when she finished. “So what are you going to do?”

“What can I do?” Grace asked, discouraged and baffled by Cliff’s behavior.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Olivia challenged.

“No,” but this wasn’t said with a lot of enthusiasm. “I guess not. But if he doesn’t—”

“He’ll phone you in the morning,” Olivia broke in.

Somehow Grace doubted that. It was as if Cliff had put her out of his mind.

Seven

Jack Griffin was tired and hungry. It was past nine on Tuesday and he still hadn’t left the office; Olivia would be annoyed. He loved that woman, but he craved the challenge of his job as editor of The Cedar Cove Chronicle, too. Olivia claimed he had printer’s ink running through his veins and he figured she was right—otherwise he’d resent all the hours he spent getting out five issues a week.

When he’d been offered the position of editor four years earlier, the newspaper published a single issue each week and was planning to increase that to two. Since he was in his fifties and ready to cut back on the grueling hours he put in for the Spokane daily paper, he’d willingly accepted fewer hours—and less pay. The attraction of moving to Cedar Cove was more than just working for The Chronicle. The real draw was being close to Bob Beldon and to Eric, Jack’s son, who lived in the Seattle area, too. Ironically Eric and his family had moved to Reno three years ago.

Bob Beldon was Jack’s AA sponsor and best friend. Several years earlier, Bob and Peggy had returned to the area and purchased a run-down home on Cranberry Point. Being an all-around handyman, Bob had quickly transformed the huge house into a successful Bed-and-Breakfast they called Thyme and Tide. The thyme part came from Peggy, who’d immediately planted an herb garden, along with a variety of fruits, vegetables and flowers. Her blueberry muffins were legendary.

After a single visit to Cedar Cove, Jack fell in love with the small community. He interviewed for the Chronicle job and got it. He found a decent rental and settled into what he assumed would be a more leisurely pace of life. He was looking forward to it, looking forward to a change.

Change had come, all right, but not in the way he’d expected. Soon after his arrival in Cedar Cove, he’d met Olivia Lockhart, and the woman had turned his world upside down.

In an effort to become acquainted with the community, Jack had visited her courtroom for a day and watched her deal out judgments on a series of cases. One judgment stood out. A young couple who’d lost their child came before her, seeking a divorce. While most people in the courtroom watched the exchange between the two lawyers presenting the case, Jack had focused his attention on Olivia. He found her mesmerizing. As she studied the couple, her eyes had filled with pain. Only later did Jack learn that Olivia had lost a child, too. Her thirteen-year-old son had drowned in 1986. Under the weight of grief and loss, her own marriage had dissolved. When she denied the couple’s divorce on a technicality, in effect forcing husband and wife to reconsider, he knew he had to write about her in his column.

Unfortunately Olivia had taken exception to what Jack had written. They met one Saturday morning in the local grocery and—although she might not have realized it at the time—their courtship had begun. He fell hard for her and he hadn’t recovered yet. The truth was, he didn’t plan to. They’d been married for over a year and his life had never been more satisfying.

Every now and then Jack had to marvel that a woman as classy as Olivia would marry an ex-alcoholic newsman who didn’t even know which fork to use if there were more than two. But marry him she had, and he considered himself the luckiest man alive.

Of course, Olivia being Olivia, she’d taken it upon herself to educate him. She felt there were some rough edges that needed smoothing out. They’d had a difficult few months in the beginning, while they adjusted to living with each other. Jack was willing to admit he was a slob. Olivia, on the other hand, had a highly developed sense of order and his slovenly habits had driven his poor wife insane.

He just didn’t understand why it was so important to hang up his pants every night when he intended to put them on again in the morning. He made an effort because he knew it pleased her. The same with the peanut butter jar. According to Olivia, he was spreading germs around the entire house by leaving it open on the countertop with a knife stuck in it. So now he took out the knife, put on the lid and shoved it in the fridge. And these days, he actually hung the towel on the rack when he was done with it. He could never arrange them precisely the way Olivia liked, but she didn’t complain. He rinsed off his dinner plate each night and placed it inside the dishwasher, too. Love apparently did that to a man.

The one area that still met with resistance was this diet she had him on. All right, he’d admit it; he could afford to lose a few pounds. Jack had a bit of a paunch, but it wasn’t that bad. Every once in a while, a man needed a double-bacon cheeseburger with all the fixings. He wasn’t opposed to a large order of fries with that, either. They both went well with a vanilla shake.

Just thinking about his favorite meal made Jack’s mouth water as he got into his car to drive home. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Breakfast had been blueberry yogurt with something stirred into it—probably wheat germ. He hated the taste of wheat germ, so his beloved wife had taken to disguising it. He let her think he’d been fooled.

When the sign for his favorite fast-food restaurant came into view, his decision was made. The drive-through window was open and he rolled straight up to it. Sitting in the parking lot, he wolfed down his cheeseburger at record speed, hardly stopping to savor the sheer luxury of it. He washed it down with the vanilla shake and munched on salty fries. He’d be in trouble with Olivia if she found out about this, but that burger had been worth it.

Hell, he was already in trouble. He’d told her he’d be home by seven and it was nearly ten. Knowing she was probably trying to reach him, he’d turned off his cell. He felt guilty about that now. An emergency had developed when the computer system crashed and he’d had to stay until everything was up and running again. He had a newspaper to get out, and there was nothing he could do but see this crisis through.

The lights in the living room were on when Jack parked in front of the house. He’d come to appreciate Olivia’s home on Lighthouse Road, which had a wonderful view of the cove. Jack enjoyed sitting beside Olivia on her wide front porch, watching the sun set on a summer night.

He’d wondered, when they were first married, if he’d be comfortable in a house where Olivia had once lived with her ex-husband. His fears had come to nothing. Olivia and Stan had been divorced for more years than they’d been married, and almost every trace of Stan was gone. There was the odd family photograph here and there, but he didn’t begrudge Olivia that.

Hoping she was asleep, he sneaked into the kitchen as quietly as possible. But the instant the floor creaked, Olivia called his name.

“Hi, honey,” he said.

Olivia marched into the kitchen like the third brigade, dressed in her thick fleece housecoat and fuzzy slippers. Her arms were crossed and she glared at him. “You turned off your cell phone.”

“I know…I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough.”

“I left a message for you,” he said, pleading his case. “There wasn’t anything I could do.” He explained the computer situation, repeating the message he’d left on their answering machine, and hoped she understood that he just couldn’t answer questions at the time.

She hesitated, and he could see her weaken. “Sometimes I wonder why we ever got married. I see less of you now than I did while we were dating.”

Sometimes Jack felt the same way. “It seems like that, doesn’t it?” He brought her into the circle of his arms. He loved the smell of her hair and breathed in the scent that was distinctly hers. “There are other advantages to being married, though,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside the front of her housecoat. To his delight she wasn’t wearing her long flannel nightgown, but the silk one that offered him easy access to her breasts.

“Jack, honestly,” she protested, but not too loudly.

“Come on, honey, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Famished.” Her nipples were hard and he felt the stirrings of desire. Ten minutes ago he didn’t think he had enough energy to do more than undress and fall into bed. But now…Well, Olivia had that kind of effect on him.

“I can warm up dinner in the microwave.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I ate on the way home,” he whispered as he brought his mouth to hers. The kiss was long and deep.

Olivia was the one who broke it off. “Jack Griffin, what did you have for dinner?”

“Ah…”

She pulled away from him, shaking her head in disgust.

“Come on, honey.”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me. Don’t you realize what you’re doing?”

“I was hungry and a cheeseburger sounded so good.”

She wouldn’t look at him.

Jack eased her back into his arms. “I have an idea that might wipe out all the evil traces of that sinful dinner.”

“What?”

He slid his hands back inside her warm housecoat, weighing the bounty of her breasts in his palms. It didn’t take much for his desire to be rekindled. “Can’t you guess? I think a little exercise might do wonders for me.”

Her eyes were closed and she let out a soft sigh in response.

“You’re always telling me how good exercise is.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But I thought you were tired.”

“I was,” he admitted, his voice sinking to a murmur as he led her toward their bedroom.

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered, climbing onto the bed. “I was so angry with you this evening, and now look at me. I’m like…like mush in your arms.”

This was why he loved her so much: She was as vulnerable to him as he was to her. Kneeling on the bed in front of her, Jack peeled off her nightgown and gloried in the sheen of her bare skin in the room’s faint light.

He was ready for her, painfully ready, as he stripped off his pants and let them drop to the floor. He doubted Olivia would object if he didn’t hang them up tonight.

Eight

“Let me look at you,” Corrie McAfee said as Linnette headed toward the front door of the house on Harbor Street, ready to leave for her dinner date with Cal Washburn. She’d stayed with her parents for the last few nights.

“Mom,” Linnette protested. It wasn’t as if she cared whether or not she made a good impression on this blind date. The fact that she was stuck going out with Cal was irritating enough without having to withstand her mother’s scrutiny.

Corrie stepped back to inspect her daughter’s appearance and smiled approvingly. Then, apparently noticing a speck of lint, Corrie brushed it away from Linnette’s shoulder. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Linnette hadn’t gone to any effort. The long black suede skirt and white sweater weren’t new. The knee-high boots were from last year and her jewelry was a simple locket and gold earrings. She was presentable, and that was good enough. The last thing she wanted to do was impress this cowpoke.

Her intention was to fulfill her obligation and, if possible, enjoy the meal. If Cal asked her out again, she’d simply have to explain that she needed time to settle into her new home. In other words, she’d contact him when and if she was interested. She didn’t want to lead him on; as far as she was concerned, this was one date and one date only.

“Have a wonderful time,” her mother said.

“Mom, don’t!” Linnette groaned. “I hate it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Her mother frowned, her expression completely baffled.

“You have all these expectations about me and Cal, and it’s so unfair.”

“What is?” Roy asked, walking into the living room where the two women stood.

“Both of you,” Linnette cried.

“Hey, what did I do?” Roy asked, glancing at Corrie.

Linnette gestured at them. “It’s like you’ve got me married to…to some man I haven’t even met. Is it any wonder I don’t want to go on this stupid date?”

Her father reached for The Cedar Cove Chronicle and shrugged. “Then don’t go.”

Corrie gasped. “I paid good money for this dinner. I want you to go out with him at least once. It would be rude to phone at the last minute and cancel.”

Linnette had thought of that herself. As much as she wanted out of this, she refused to be unkind about it. But now that she had her parents’ attention, there was another matter she needed to bring up.

“I want to know more about those postcards you’ve been receiving.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed accusingly on her mother.

Before he could blame Corrie for betraying confidences, Linnette explained how she knew. “I found one, Dad, so don’t get all bent out of shape. She tried to keep your scary little secret, but I read one of those postcards.”

“We haven’t had any more in the last week,” Corrie added quickly. She hesitated, then turned to Roy. “Have we?”

Roy’s frown darkened his entire face. “No. And the subject is closed.” With that, he sat down and hid behind the newspaper.

“But…”

“It won’t do any good to question him,” her mother whispered. She silently pleaded with her to drop the subject.

Linnette already knew how stubborn and unreasonable her father could be. She was furious that he’d excluded her like this. He did the same thing to Mack. Linnette found it chilling that her own father could pretend she wasn’t there, seeking answers, needing reassurance. He didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t asking these questions because she was intruding on their business. Her concern was genuine.

“I’d better leave now,” she said, retrieving the suede jacket that matched her skirt.

Cal had agreed to meet her at The Lighthouse, the finest restaurant in town, at seven. Linnette was prepared to pay for the dinner if it came to that, but she hoped Cal would offer, since she wasn’t on the clinic payroll yet. Her mother had paid big bucks for this guy, although Linnette wasn’t sure precisely how much. She knew it was over four hundred dollars each for Cal and the dog, who was definitely worth her share of the money. In Linnette’s humble opinion, Cal should be the one paying the tab for tonight’s dinner. Nevertheless, she had enough cash to cover it, unless he ordered expensive drinks.

“Have a good time,” Corrie said again as she walked Linnette to the door.

Linnette didn’t think that was possible. “Any words of wisdom?” she asked in a resigned voice.

The question appeared to please her mother. “I don’t know much about Cal. However, Grace Sherman at the library says he’s a wonderful man but shy, so you might have to carry the conversation.”

Linnette had already figured that. With his stutter, it might be difficult to have much of a conversation at all. Linnette was afraid this evening would be torture. She knew it was going to be a struggle not to finish his sentences for him. Doing that would be terribly impolite and, of course, Cal would resent it, with good reason.

Linnette wasn’t looking forward to going home that night, either; her mother would almost certainly be waiting up to interrogate her about the evening with Cal. But Linnette had a few questions of her own. She hoped to learn more about these postcards so she could tell her brother. Linnette felt they had a right to know that their parents were in potential danger.

If her father’s reaction to a simple question was any indication, she could forget about any hope of shared information from him. He wasn’t talking, but she might be able to persuade her mother to drop a few hints.

When she reached the restaurant, Linnette parked in the only available spot and walked up the steps to The Lighthouse foyer. Funny, she’d never thought to ask Cal what he looked like. Now, standing in a foyer crowded with people, all waiting to be seated, she glanced around, hoping she’d somehow recognize him. Unfortunately, there seemed to be a number of single men milling about.

Wanting to avoid the embarrassment of asking strangers their names, Linnette decided there must be a logical way to do this. Cal would probably be wearing cowboy boots. Unfortunately, that meant she was walking around with her head down, staring at everyone’s feet.

She found a man with a polished pair of boots and raised her head. She immediately dismissed him as a possibility. He was far too old. Her survey continued. Scuffed boots—too young. Snakeskin boots—nope. Too urban.

“Linnette?”

She abruptly looked up and nearly collided with a lean, wiry man of about thirty-five. He wore a cowboy hat and western-style jacket with leather patches on the sleeves and—yes, indeed—cowboy boots. Linnette’s expectations hadn’t been high, but if this was Cal Washburn, he far exceeded her hopes. He was a pleasant-looking man, not striking, but obviously in good shape. Brown hair and eyes, prominent cheekbones, a solid jaw and surprise of surprises, a warm smile.

“Cal?”

He nodded. “I h-have a reservation.” With his hand at the small of her back, he directed her to the desk.

The woman behind the counter looked at them expectantly.

“W-Washburn,” Cal said.

She scanned the list and scratched out his name when she located it on the reservation sheet. Reaching for two menus, she said, “Your table is ready.”

Linnette had no idea The Lighthouse restaurant did such a rousing business. It hadn’t occurred to her to make reservations, and she was grateful Cal had.

Once they were seated, Linnette opened her menu, studied the selections and chose the seafood fettuccini with clams, scallops and Hood Canal shrimp. It sounded appetizing—and was affordably priced. She’d stick to the free rolls for her appetizer.

The waiter came for their drink order and Linnette decided on iced tea. Cal asked for a whiskey sour. Remembering that her funds were limited, Linnette opened her menu again to see if there was a price list for mixed drinks. Yes—to her horror, it was made with premium whiskey and cost almost ten dollars.

After their drinks arrived, they made small talk, with Linnette doing most of the talking, just as she’d assumed she would. Cal seemed interested in her work as a physician assistant and was impressed that she could prescribe medications and treat minor injuries. She described the first times she’d sutured a wound and put on a cast and how nervous she’d been.

The waiter returned for their meal order and it was as if Cal had only recently discovered food. He ordered a crab-and-artichoke dip for an appetizer, plus a dinner salad with shrimp. The seafood topping cost extra. For his entrée, he chose a T-bone steak.

Linnette casually looked at the menu a second time and checked on the price of the steak. According to her calculations, his tab alone would add up to all the cash she carried.

“Is s-something wr-rong?” Cal inquired.

She leaned closer and tried to figure out a way to explain that she was on a limited budget, but couldn’t. It was just too humiliating. “N-nothing,” she assured him.

“You stutter?” His eyes widened as though he’d met his soul mate.

“No.” She shook her head. “Cal, I—” She began to explain that they might need to split the bill, but just then the waiter delivered the rolls and the appetizer.

Despite her predictions, Linnette actually had an enjoyable time. She relaxed after she started eating. Cal insisted she have a glass of wine with her meal; the expense was more than she could afford, but she let him talk her into it. When she tasted the chardonnay, she was glad she’d succumbed. The wine was not only delicious, it went a long way toward calming her nerves.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that Cal ordered dessert—New York-style cheesecake, no less. He also requested two forks.

“I couldn’t,” she insisted, placing both hands on her stomach.

“One taste,” Cal said.

“We bake it here at the restaurant,” the waiter told her. “It’s our most popular dessert.”

“All right,” she acquiesced, “one taste.”

Linnette ended up eating most of it. She didn’t normally like heavy desserts, but this was exceptional—the best she’d ever tasted.

They lingered over coffee, and then the waiter brought the bill, tucked inside a leather sleeve. It stood in the middle of the table, impossible to ignore. By her estimate—she’d kept a running total in her head until the wine, at which point she’d lost count—the tab far exceeded her cash. Granted, she had her VISA, but she was already close to her limit on that. For a long moment, Linnette stared at the bill, still concealed in its folder, and prayed this man her mother considered such a paragon would reach for it.

He didn’t.

Linnette was beginning to worry. “Shall we split this?” she suggested.

Cal picked up the bill and looked it over. He didn’t say what her half would be. “I’ll t-t-take care of it on the way out,” he said.

Linnette nodded.

“I had a nice time.” He seemed as astonished as she was.

“I did, too.”

“You aren’t l-l-like I ex-x-x-pected.”

“Neither are you.”

He glanced at his watch. “Can I w-walk you to your v-v-vehi—car?”

She shook her head. “You go on, while I pay my half of the bill. Thank you, Cal, for a most enjoyable evening.”

“Y-y-you’re welcome.” He dropped his napkin on the table and stood.

The restaurant wasn’t as busy as it had been earlier. Several couples sat with their heads close together, enjoying each other’s company. Some evening Linnette hoped that would be Chad Timmons and her.

Once Cal had left, Linnette sighed deeply and decided she’d better figure out what she owed. She reached for the bill and was shocked to find it had already been paid. Frowning, she motioned for the waiter. “This is completely paid? The tip, too?”

“Yes, the gentleman made arrangements with the restaurant before you arrived. He left his credit card with the hostess.”

“Oh.” He might’ve said something. Still, Linnette felt she should thank him. However, when she hurried out to the parking lot, Cal was already gone.

Nine

It was the first Tuesday of November, the day Charlotte and Ben were having dinner with his son. That afternoon, she sorted through her closet in search of a dress to wear. She finally decided on the pink-and-white one she’d purchased for her wedding reception. With its row of tiny ribbon rosebuds edging the collar it made her feel feminine and attractive. Although the outfit was better suited for spring than autumn, she hoped to make a positive impression on David.

“How do I look?” she asked Ben, stepping out of the bedroom and brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt. She waited for her husband’s approval.

Ben glanced up from the television set and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, crestfallen. She wanted to do her husband proud.

“You went to far too much trouble. You don’t need to impress David.”

“But…I want your son to like me.”

“I know, dear, and I appreciate that, but it isn’t necessary. I suspect the only reason David asked us to have dinner is to see if I’ll give him another loan.” Ben’s face hardened. “I refuse to do it. I told him that the last time and I’m not going to change my mind.” He shook his head. “Just watch. We’ll get stuck with the bill, too.”

“Oh, Ben, I’m sure that’s not true. Anyway, he invited us.”

“Yeah, but you can bet I’ll be paying the tab.”

“Oh, Ben, don’t be so negative.”

Ben didn’t argue with her. She could tell he was nervous and that he regretted agreeing to this. He revealed no pleasure at seeing David or the prospect of a rare evening out in downtown Seattle.

While it was still daylight, Ben and Charlotte drove over to Bremerton and walked onto the Seattle-bound ferry. During the hour-long commute, Ben was uncharacteristically silent. They held hands and sipped coffee, and Charlotte watched Bainbridge Island fade into the distance as the Seattle skyline came into view. It really was a lovely time of year in Puget Sound. By the end of the month, Christmas decorations would be up, and a festive spirit would suffuse Cedar Cove.

Once the ferry docked in Seattle, Ben ushered Charlotte down the ramp and out of the terminal. They took one of the taxis waiting on the street outside and rode up to Martini’s Steakhouse, the restaurant David had chosen.

Ben led Charlotte to an elevator that brought them to the lower floor. As she stepped off, her interest was immediately captured by the signed photographs of famous people who’d dined at Martini’s.

A man who could only be Ben’s son sat in the restaurant foyer. He was handsome, a younger version of his father with dark hair and a strong presence. He glanced up and smiled when he saw Ben and Charlotte.

“Hello, David.” Ben spoke without emotion.

“Dad,” David said eagerly, standing. He hugged his father and slapped him affectionately on the back. When he’d finished, he gave Charlotte a warm smile.

“This is Charlotte,” Ben said, placing his arm protectively around her shoulders.

David held out his arms and drew her into an enthusiastic hug. “I am so delighted to finally meet you,” he said. “You’ve made my father a very happy man.”

Charlotte was instantly charmed. Ben didn’t have a thing to worry about, she decided; this was certain to be a wonderful evening. When David released her, she looked at Ben and found him scowling. She couldn’t imagine why he was being so unpleasant.

David’s smile dimmed slightly as he regarded his father. “Come on, Dad,” he said. “Relax. Let’s enjoy the evening.”

“Yes,” Charlotte chimed in. “I’m meeting your son for the first time and we’re going to have a great meal. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

David directed his attention to her as they waited for the hostess to return from seating the couple in front of them. “I can’t tell you how sorry I was to miss the wedding,” he said, avoiding his father’s eye.

“I’m looking forward to introducing you to my children,” Charlotte told him happily. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet them soon.”

“I’m sure I will, too. Again I apologize about missing the big day but summer’s an especially busy time for me.”

“What do you do?” Charlotte asked, and refrained from reminding him that they were married the first week of May, which was actually spring.

“I work in insurance,” David said. “It’s difficult to explain but I deal with actuaries and statistics.”

“Oh, yes.” Charlotte nodded. “All of that’s beyond me. Clyde always took care of that sort of thing. I’m grateful he did. Clyde was my first husband,” she told him. Although he’d been gone almost twenty-five years, Clyde had seen to Charlotte’s financial needs before his death. She would be forever grateful.

The hostess seemed to be waiting for them to finish their conversation.

“Our table’s ready,” Ben said, steering them toward the young woman.

They were quickly seated, and Charlotte took the opportunity to look around. A single glance convinced her that this was one of the finest restaurants she’d ever been inside. To date, the most elegant restaurant she’d eaten in belonged to her own granddaughter, Justine. Justine and Seth owned The Lighthouse in Cedar Cove and had made a brilliant success of it. She was near to bursting with pride about her granddaughter, who’d had the good sense to marry a solid man like Seth Gunderson. When David visited Cedar Cove, she’d make sure he had a chance to dine at The Lighthouse.

Their waiter approached the table, wheeling a cart, and with a good deal of ceremony revealed virtually a complete menu. Her head spun as he displayed and then described each item. When he was finished, they were given a price list. Charlotte studied it and gasped aloud. But, my goodness, it all looked so delicious. She made a mental note to tell Justine every detail she could remember. Her granddaughter would want to know about this. After the elaborate presentation, she ordered the grilled swordfish and both men ordered steaks.

The meal was superb and so was the service. The conversation, too, was enjoyable. David had an engaging manner and did most of the talking. He chatted about the weather and recent movies and how he planned to go to Vegas for Christmas. Ben remained stubbornly quiet, as he had before; it was up to Charlotte to respond to his son’s questions and remarks. The one irritation was David’s cell phone, which rang four times during the course of their meal.

After the fourth call, Ben snapped, “Turn that damn thing off.”

“Sorry.” David did look apologetic as he reached for his cell and pushed a button. The telephone sang a brief song and then went silent.

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the waiter who brought coffee to their table with several varieties of sugar from which to choose. Charlotte was quite taken with the hard candy sticks that looked like something out of a confectionary store.

Over coffee, David grew quiet. “You might’ve guessed why I wanted to meet with you, Dad,” he said as he stirred in the cream.

“David, if this is about money—”

“Dad, I’m in a tight spot.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” David asked with barely suppressed anger.

Ben’s shoulders heaved as if he’d inhaled sharply in an effort to control his own annoyance. “Since you put it like that, the answer is won’t. I refuse to give you another dime. You haven’t paid back the last two loans. I’d be a fool to give you more.”

“I’m good for it. I promise.”

“That’s what you said last time and the time before that. Why should I believe you now?”

“Because it’s true. Dad, do you think it’s easy, coming to you like this? Do you think I’d do this if I had any other options?”

He seemed about to say more but Charlotte could see that his arguments increased Ben’s irritation. “How much do you need?” she asked. She didn’t mean to intrude, but if it was a reasonable amount then perhaps Ben wouldn’t mind so much.

“Five thousand,” he said after a moment. “That’s considerably less than I needed before,” he added with a hopeful expression.

“What do you need it for?” Charlotte asked, wanting to help and not knowing how. Her questions didn’t please Ben, she could see that, but she felt badly for the young man.

David shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“The usual, no doubt,” Ben cut in. “His credit cards are maxed out, he hasn’t paid his taxes and he’s paying alimony for two ex-wives.”

“I’m getting a bonus this Christmas,” David said. “I only need the money for a couple of months, just to carry me through. You know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. I’m telling you, Dad, money pressures are the worst. I can’t sleep nights. I can hardly eat.”

“You certainly didn’t have a problem tonight,” Ben pointed out. David had obviously enjoyed his meal, and Charlotte was glad of that after seeing those prices. Fifty years ago, she could’ve fed her family for a week for the price of a single steak.

David looked hurt. “This is the first decent meal I’ve had in ages. You have to know how difficult this is for me. There’s no one else I can ask.”

“I’m sure it’s painful to ask for a loan,” Charlotte said sympathetically.

David thanked her for her understanding with a smile. “I swear to you, Dad, I’ll pay you back. I don’t know what’ll happen if you turn me down.”

“How old are you now?” Ben asked his son.

David straightened slightly. “Forty-three.”

“Really,” Charlotte said conversationally. “I would’ve guessed much younger.”

David ignored her, holding his father’s eyes.

“Forty-three is old enough to stand on your own two feet and stop expecting someone else to bail you out.”

David’s shoulders slumped.

Charlotte felt dreadful for him, but she couldn’t advise Ben when it came to dealing with his own child. She reached for Ben’s hand under the table and he gripped it hard.

“I told you the last time that I’m not lending you another dime, and I’m sticking to that. I have to, David. I’m sorry you’re experiencing financial troubles, but apparently you didn’t learn your lesson.”

“You’re telling me no.”

“I am. Save your breath, because no amount of talking will change my mind.”

David didn’t argue, didn’t get upset, but nodded as if he understood.

“So far, all I’ve taught you is to come to me when you have money problems and that isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“I agree,” David said reluctantly.

“You pay me back what you owe from the first two loans, and then we’ll discuss future possibilities.”

David pinched his lips together and nodded again. Pushing out his chair, he stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to my hotel. Thank you for the pleasant dinner. Charlotte, I think the smartest thing my father’s done in the last fifteen years was marrying you.”

Charlotte blushed with pleasure. “Thank you, David.”

He bowed slightly and walked out of the room.

With his exit, the waiter walked over to the table and promptly delivered the bill.

Ten

Home from work early because of her doctor’s appointment, Cecilia Randall sat in front of her computer in the spare bedroom and logged on. She treasured every e-mail Ian sent, and when there wasn’t one waiting for her at the end of the day, she immediately felt discouraged. To her delight, there were two messages. She clicked her mouse on the first, but before the computer brought it up on screen the phone rang.

Cecilia glanced over her shoulder, willing it to be silent. It was probably Cathy, wanting to hear how her appointment had gone. Everything was wonderful, and she had exciting news to share with Ian. She couldn’t tell Cathy before she told her husband. By rights, he should hear first. If she picked up the phone and Cathy was on the line, Cecilia knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the information to herself.

After the third ring, she couldn’t stand it any longer and ran into the kitchen to grab the phone before the answering machine kicked in. “Hello,” she said breathlessly.

“Cecilia?”

“Ian?”

“Oh, baby, I’m so glad you’re home. You wouldn’t believe what I went through to make this call.”

“Ian, oh, Ian, it’s so good to hear your voice.” Tears filled her eyes. She loved her husband and missed him terribly. Every time he went to sea it was the same.

“Tell me about the doctor’s visit,” Ian demanded, worry in his voice. “It was this afternoon, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, and everything went really well.” She was nearly bursting with what she’d learned.

“They did the ultrasound?”

“Yes…”

“Everything’s all right with the baby?” He sounded afraid, and she didn’t blame him. If they’d had more than one ultrasound with Allison, the doctors would’ve discovered her heart condition before the birth. “Did the ultrasound show anything?”

She leaned against the kitchen wall, almost giddy with happiness. “It did.”

Ian gasped as if this was his biggest fear.

“Ian, Ian, it isn’t anything like that. Oh, Ian, we’re going to have a son!”

“What?”

“The technician had a good view this time, and she showed me his little penis. We’re having a son.”

Her husband was silent for half a second and then let out a yelp that must’ve echoed a hundred miles. Cecilia was sure everyone on the aircraft carrier had heard him. She understood; it was the proof he needed that this pregnancy was different from their first.

Cecilia laughed with joy. They’d been told this second baby was likely a girl and that had only added to her husband’s fears. As Ian had said over and over, everything was the same as it had been with Allison. Cecilia was going to deliver another baby girl while he was away. Ian was so afraid for her, for them both. If they lost another baby…Cecilia couldn’t allow her mind to go down those dark paths.

“They’re sure about the baby being a boy?”

“I know what I saw.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Wonderful. Ecstatic. And very much in love with my husband.”

“I love you, Cecilia.” His voice lowered with the weight of his emotion. “I think of you day and night.”

“Me, too.”

“Working isn’t too much for you?”

“Not at all.” Ian was such a worrier. But this job was vital to her. Without it, she’d sit at home all day with nothing to do. Using her accounting skills and providing a portion of their income weren’t the only reasons Cecilia chose to be employed. “Mr. Cox is so thoughtful and Allison’s coming in to the office every day after school.” Ian already knew this but she told him again. She made sure her e-mails were full of news about her everyday life. That seemed to reassure him.

“Ah, yes. Allison Cox,” Ian said, sighing deeply. “You’re concerned about her, aren’t you?”

“She has that new boyfriend.”

“And you don’t like him,” Ian said.

“Well, I don’t really know him, so I can’t dislike him, but he worries me. Did I tell you his name is Anson? What kind of name is that, anyway? He’s not the boy for Allison. He’s one of those Goth kids, dresses totally in black and—”

Ian interrupted her. “Your father said I wasn’t the right man for you, remember?”

At the mention of her father, Cecilia rolled her eyes. She’d come to Cedar Cove four years earlier in an effort to get to know her father. Her parents had divorced when she was ten, and her memories of him were vague and mingled with her mother’s bitterness. Cecilia wanted to form her own impressions of him. He’d seemed eager to know her, too.

Cecilia’s mother had warned her against having any expectations when it came to Bobby Merrick, but this was something she had to learn on her own. It hadn’t taken her long to discover that her father was unreliable and irresponsible. When Cecilia lost her baby, his idea of comforting her was a sympathy card sent through the mail. He was sorry for her loss, he’d written. But not once had he come to see his daughter in the hospital. Not once had he offered to help her with the financial burden. He couldn’t even be bothered to attend Allison’s burial. The only thing her father had done for Cecilia was get her a job at The Captain’s Galley, where she’d met Ian. For that one small twist of fate, she would always be grateful.

“You’re the right man for me,” she breathed, determined not to bring her father into the conversation. “Oh, Ian, I miss you so much.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

Not before the baby was born, but Cecilia couldn’t think about that. This time she wasn’t alone. Cathy Lackey would be with her and had promised to be her birthing coach. Cecilia had signed up for classes and they’d be starting soon. Cathy would go with her.

When Cecilia delivered Allison she’d been alone, not knowing a soul other than her father. The baby had arrived several weeks early. Her mother had intended to fly out, but couldn’t reach her in time. Friendless and frightened, Cecilia had gone to the hospital on her own.

“We need boy names, Ian,” she said, breaking off those painful memories.

“Ah…I can’t think of anything at the moment. Let me e-mail you a few suggestions. Okay?”

“Okay. But I think our son should have his daddy’s name.”

“Too confusing,” Ian said. “Maybe for his middle name.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Listen, sweetheart, I have to go, but before I do I need to ask a favor for a friend of mine. He asked if you’d mind checking on a girl for him.”

“Sure.”

“Her name is Rachel Pendergast and she works at a beauty place in Cedar Cove called Get Nailed.”

“I know it. Almost everyone gets their nails done there.”

“Nate went out with Rachel a couple of times and seems pretty interested in her, but she doesn’t have a computer. Apparently she writes him a lot, but it isn’t the same as being able to communicate on-line.”

“Couldn’t she use the computer at the library?” Cecilia asked. That was the one Cecilia had used when she and Ian were separated and she needed to keep in touch with him. With all the expenses related to burying Allison and the attorney’s fees for their failed divorce, she’d had no money for anything extra.

“Apparently Rachel’s never been on-line and isn’t sure how it works. This is all new to her.”

“I’ll get her started,” Cecilia promised.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome, my handsome, wonderful husband.”

“How long has it been since I told you I love you?”

Cecilia smiled softly. “Too long.”

“I love you.”

She giggled with sheer happiness.

“A son,” Ian whispered. “A son.”

Eleven

This was moving day. Linnette’s brother had been a real help. He’d arrived at her Seattle apartment early Saturday morning with Lucky, his Australian Shepherd, and a couple of his friends who were volunteer firefighters with Mack. The only stuff left to move was her furniture and a few of the heavier boxes. Linnette had already taken over what she could, a little at a time, but the larger items required a truck, which she’d rented.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate this,” Linnette told her brother after he and his friends had loaded up the truck. Bryan and Drew were carrying down the dining room chairs. Her roommate had left a month earlier, and the place was now completely empty.

“No problem,” Mack said. He’d stayed behind. Now he wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m glad I can help. I’m hoping the two of us will have a chance to talk later.”

Before Linnette could reply, Bryan stepped back into the room. “You ready to head out?” he asked. He seemed eager to get going. Drew followed him inside, chanting, “Hey, hey, hey. We’re on our way.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Mack told them.

“We’ll find a chance to talk,” Linnette promised.

“Good. Maybe after we’ve unloaded the big stuff, we can chat and then I’ll drive the truck back to the rental place.” It cost less to rent the vehicle if it was returned to the original location. Mack had graciously agreed to deliver it to Seattle for his sister.

Just as efficiently as he and his friends had loaded the U-Haul, they unpacked it, carted everything up the one flight of outdoor stairs and set her sofa, chair, lamp, coffee table and television in her small living room. Her bed and mattress, dresser and nightstand went into the larger of the two bedrooms. Her desk, chair and computer, which she’d carefully boxed, were in the second room. Eventually Linnette planned to add a sleeper-sofa and maybe a small work table. She wanted to start doing crafts again, which was something she hadn’t had time for while she was in school. The dining room table was a Salvation Army find, but it was pretty battered and Linnette hoped to replace it soon. With a regular income she’d have a few more options.

When Mack and his friends were finished, Linnette treated them to take-out hamburgers, fries and cold drinks. As soon as they’d wolfed those down, Drew and Bryan were on their way back to Seattle, with Linnette’s fervent thanks ringing in their ears.

Mack sat on her sofa, leaned forward and set his wadded burger wrapper on her coffee table. Lucky, well-behaved dog that she was, had stayed obediently out of everyone’s way and now rested at his side. As if gathering his thoughts, her brother waited a moment, then looked at Linnette. “Do you know what’s going on with Mom and Dad?” he asked.

Her brother was astute, she’d give him that. “What makes you think anything’s going on?” She was interested in how he’d picked up on this so quickly. As far as Linnette knew, he wasn’t in regular communication with their parents.

“Mom’s been phoning me every Sunday afternoon. It’s gotten to be like clockwork. She hadn’t said anything outright, but just recently, I’d say in the last couple of weeks, she’s made some remarks that don’t add up.”

“Like what?”

Mack hesitated. “For one thing, she casually mentioned that if anything were to happen to Dad, I should never doubt his love for me. I asked her if Dad was sick or there was something I should know, but she claimed there wasn’t. I don’t think she’d lie to me, but I’m pretty sure she’s not telling me the whole truth.”

“Go on,” Linnette encouraged. Her brother had good instincts and she wondered how much information he’d been able to glean.

“Every time Mom phones, she assures me everything’s fine. So, after a while, I started to think I might be imagining things.”

“You aren’t,” Linnette was quick to tell him, and then went on to describe the postcards her parents had received.

“They aren’t threatening?” Mack asked, frowning.

“I can’t say for sure,” Linnette said. “The only one I saw said, ‘Are you thinking yet?’”

“About what?”

“According to Mom, Dad assumes this has something to do with his work on the police force.”

“Some criminal he put away?” Mack speculated.

“Perhaps someone who has a vendetta against Dad. Whoever’s doing this seems intent on psychologically wearing him down.”

“That won’t work,” Mack said with a slow grin. “If this person wants to torment our father, all he needs to do is grow his hair long, refuse to play football, drop out of college and take a job at the post office. That’s enough to send the mighty Roy McAfee over the edge.”

Linnette laughed, noticing anew what an attractive man her brother was. His build was similar to their father’s, but as far as his looks went, he took after Grandpa Wilson, their mother’s father.

“Do you think they’re in any real danger?” Mack asked seriously.

“I don’t know. I’ve tried to get Mom to tell me how long this has been going on, but she doesn’t want to worry me. The fact that she won’t talk about it concerns me more. I told her that, and she got all teary and said Dad’s been completely unreasonable.”

“That’s unusual?” Mack teased.

Linnette shook her head, smiling. “Apparently there’s been more than the postcards.” She sat down on the sofa beside her brother and stroked Lucky’s head. “Mom said something about a fruit basket being delivered.”

“They didn’t eat any of it, did they?”

“I don’t know what they did with it. I assume they threw it away. That one really freaked Mom out.”

“I can imagine. I wonder if it’s part of this person’s method. You know, kill them with kindness, confuse the enemy—and then move in with the real agenda.”

Linnette hadn’t thought of it that way. “You and Dad might not get along, but you’re more alike than you realize.”

Mack cringed. “Don’t tell me that. The last person in the world I want to be like is my father.”

“He’s not so bad,” Linnette felt obliged to tell him. “And neither are you. One of these days, the two of you will come to an understanding.”

“Maybe,” Mack said doubtfully. “I hope we do, but I’m not holding my breath.”

A polite knock sounded at Linnette’s door. Lucky was suddenly alert; she gave one brief bark and stared intently.

Brother and sister glanced at each other, and then Linnette went to the door. A woman, dressed in a brown sheriff’s uniform, stood on the other side, holding a small pot of bronze chrysanthemums.

“Hello, I’m your neighbor, Gloria Ashton,” she said as she handed Linnette the plant.

“Linnette McAfee,” she said, admiring the rich color of the chrysanthemums. “Mom told me everyone in Cedar Cove is friendly. This is just so nice. Please come in.” She stood aside so Gloria could step into her apartment. Linnette gestured toward her brother. “Gloria, this is my brother, Mack. Mack, this is my next-door neighbor, Gloria Ashton.”

Mack released the dog’s collar, then stood and offered Gloria his hand. She took a step forward and extended her own. “This is Lucky,” he said. The dog waved her plumy tail, then returned to her place by the couch.

“I’m two doors down in apartment 216. I saw your brother and a couple of other guys bringing in the furniture. I thought I’d stop by on my way to work and introduce myself. I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wasn’t sure when I’d get another opportunity.”

“You’re with the sheriff’s office here?” Linnette asked. Gloria stood with her feet braced slightly apart, hands on her belt. She was short, petite, dark-haired; her uniform fit as if it’d been especially designed for her. The belt that held her weapon and other paraphernalia only emphasized her femininity.

Gloria shook her head in response to Linnette’s question. “I’m with the Bremerton office. I’ve been in the area a little less than a year.”

Mack stared at her and narrowed his eyes, as if he was trying to place her. “You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

Gloria studied him, frowning, and then shook her head again. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Mack shrugged. “I guess not. I don’t visit often, but when I do I always drive the speed limit.”

“Yeah, right.” Linnette snickered and her brother elbowed her in the ribs.

“You don’t live in Cedar Cove?” Gloria asked.

“Too close to family,” he muttered. “They cramp my style.” He laughed at his own weak joke and sat down.

“Could you join us for a few minutes?” Linnette asked. “I apologize—I can’t offer you anything to drink. I haven’t been to the grocery store yet.”

“I have to go, but thanks, anyway.” Gloria checked her watch. “I thought this would be a good time to welcome you to the complex. If you have any questions about the town, I’ll be happy to try and answer them.”

“That would be great,” Linnette told her. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“I hope you do.” After a few parting words, Gloria was gone.

Linnette waited until the door closed before she turned on her brother. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” Linnette mimicked. “Honestly, Mack, that’s the oldest pickup line in the world.”

“I wasn’t trying to pick her up.”

“Mack, you couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“Well, she is cute.”

“Oh, please. You’re so lame.”

“Me? This is the thanks I get for giving up an entire Saturday to help my sister?”

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry. If you’re interested in Gloria, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to set you up—since you’re currently footloose and fancy-free.”

Mack raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Sure. But the truth is, she does look familiar.”

Twelve

Saturday night, Allison Cox was roused from a sound sleep by a tap on her bedroom window. Her clock told her it was almost three. She turned on the small light on her bed stand, tossed aside her down comforter and hurried to the window. Opening the blinds, she peered outside and gasped when Anson smiled at her.

“Let me in,” he mouthed.

She’d be in big trouble if her parents ever found out about this. Although the temptation was almost overpowering, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

He nodded vigorously and rubbed his bare hands together. Then he hunched his shoulders, as if to ward off the wind. His eyes pleaded with her.

“Anson, no.” She shook her head again, trying to convince herself.

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