Читать книгу 204 Rosewood Lane - Debbie Macomber - Страница 5

One

Grace Sherman stared down at the legal form that would start the divorce proceedings. She sat in the attorney’s office with Maryellen, her oldest daughter, who’d come with her to offer support. Grace reminded herself that this should be straightforward, that her decision was made. She was ready to end her marriage, ready to piece together her shattered life. To begin again… But her hand shook as she picked up the pen.

The inescapable fact was that she didn’t want this—but Dan hadn’t left her with any other option.

Five months ago, in April, her husband of almost thirty-six years had disappeared. Vanished without a trace. One day everything was perfectly normal, and the next he was gone. Apparently by choice and without a word of explanation. Even now, Grace had difficulty believing that the man she’d lived with, the man she’d loved and with whom she’d had two daughters, could do anything as cruel as this.

If Dan had fallen out of love with her, she could accept that. She would’ve found enough pride, enough generosity, to release him without bitterness. If he was that miserable in their marriage, she would’ve gladly set him free to find happiness with someone else. What she couldn’t forgive was the misery he’d heaped on their family’s shoulders, what he’d done to their daughters. Especially Kelly.

Dan had disappeared shortly after Kelly and Paul had announced that after years of trying, they were finally, excitedly, pregnant. Dan had been thrilled, and Grace, too. This baby was going to be their first grandchild. They’d waited so long.

Kelly had always been close to her father and his disappearance at this critical time in her life had devastated her. She’d pleaded with Grace to postpone the divorce proceedings, convinced that her father would return before Tyler was born. When Dan did return, he’d have a logical reason and would explain everything to their satisfaction.

He hadn’t come back, though, and there’d been no further information. Nothing but doubts, questions and a churning, deepening anger that intensified in the endless weeks that followed.

When Grace couldn’t stand not knowing any longer, she’d hired Roy McAfee, a private detective and former policeman she trusted. Roy had done an extensive search, certain that Dan had left a paper trail, and he’d been right. What Roy had uncovered was a complete shock to Grace. A year earlier, Dan had purchased a travel trailer, paying cash for it. Grace had no idea where he’d gotten that kind of money, nor did she know anything about the trailer. He’d never mentioned it, nor had she seen it. To this day she had no idea where he’d kept it all those months. Or where it was now.

Given the mounting evidence, she had her suspicions. Grace believed that Dan had used the travel trailer to sneak away with another woman. There’d been one sighting of him and it had come late in May. It almost felt as if her husband had orchestrated this brief reappearance, as if he was taunting her, challenging her to find him. That day had been a low point for Grace.

A co-worker of Dan’s had spotted him at the marina and Maryellen had hurried to the library to fetch her. But by the time Grace reached the marina, Dan was gone. A woman had pulled up to the curb and Dan had climbed into the vehicle and driven away, never to be seen or heard from again.

In retrospect, she’d come to believe that Dan was providing her with the answers she so desperately needed. She could think of no other reason he would mysteriously arrive at the busiest place in town, where he was most likely to be seen—and recognized. The library where she worked was less than two blocks away. Clearly, her husband lacked the courage to tell her there was someone else. Instead he’d chosen another, crueler way to inform her; he’d humiliated her in front of the entire community. Grace knew without being told that everyone in Cedar Cove pitied her.

That sighting had settled the matter in Grace’s mind. Whatever love she still felt for Dan died that afternoon. Until then, she hadn’t wanted to believe there was someone else. Even when the VISA bill showed up with a hefty charge from a local jeweler, Grace had refused to accept that her husband was involved with another woman. Dan just wasn’t the kind of man who would be unfaithful to her. She’d trusted him. Not anymore.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Maryellen asked, touching her arm.

Grace’s hand tightened around the pen. “Fine,” she snapped, instantly regretting her tone. She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp.

Her daughter looked away. Grace focused on the divorce papers, hesitated a moment longer and then with haste signed her name.

“I’ll see that this is filed immediately,” Mark Spellman said.

Grace relaxed, leaning back in her chair. This was all there was to it? You could end a thirty-five-year marriage simply by signing your name? “That’s it?”

“Yes. Since you haven’t heard from Daniel in five months, I don’t foresee any legal complications. The divorce should be final in a few weeks.”

Almost four decades tossed out the window like so much garbage. The good years, the bad years, the lean ones, the years they’d scrimped and saved. Like all couples, they’d had their share of problems, but despite everything they’d held their marriage together. Until now, until this—

“Mom?” Maryellen whispered.

Grace nodded abruptly, surprised at the emotion that choked her. She’d shed all the tears she intended to. In the months since Dan’s disappearance, Grace had deeply grieved the loss of her marriage and the man she thought she knew. The truth of it was, she no longer had a choice; divorce had become inevitable. It was essential that she protect her financial interests. According to the attorney, she couldn’t afford the luxury of doing nothing.

Her legal situation was one thing, and she’d dealt with that, but the emotional impact had left her badly shaken. Despite her resolve, the grief hadn’t diminished. And the humiliation of what Dan had done was with her constantly. Everyone in town was aware of her circumstances and the fact that her husband had walked out on her.

Slowly, Grace set the pen aside.

“I’ll wait to hear from you, then,” she said to her attorney, rising out of the chair. Maryellen stood with her.

The attorney, a young man closer to Maryellen’s age than her own, escorted them to the office door. He began to say something, then merely looked down and murmured a brief goodbye.

Outside his small home office, the sky had turned a depressing leaden gray. Grace felt a burden of sadness settle over her; she’d known this appointment wasn’t going to be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to exact such a toll on her self-confidence.

Maryellen glanced at her watch. “I need to get back to the gallery.”

“I know,” Grace said. Her daughter had offered to go to this appointment with her for moral support. Although she was grateful, Grace had thought it unnecessary. But Maryellen was right.

Her daughter was divorced, too. Maryellen had married young and unwisely, and the marriage had ended in less than a year. The experience had so biased her against men, she’d steered away from relationships ever since. Grace had tried to assure her that she’d meet a wonderful man someday, a man waiting for someone exactly like her. Maryellen had considered that naive and refused to listen and now Grace understood why. Divorce hurt, and it was the kind of vicious pain that reached deep inside a person. Grace felt off balance and guilty, as though she had somehow failed. As though it was all her fault. Maryellen knew what it was like because she’d experienced these emotions herself when she was much younger and without the wisdom or perspective maturity brings.

“Will you be all right?” Maryellen asked, obviously reluctant to leave.

“Of course,” Grace said, forcing a smile. She ought to be feeling a measure of relief, after all. She’d finally taken action. She’d given Dan every opportunity, even issued a series of mental ultimatums and deadlines. He would come back when Kelly’s baby was born. By the Fourth of July. By their wedding anniversary. First one, then another, until she faced the truth. He wasn’t coming back. If she hadn’t heard anything from him by now, she shouldn’t expect that she ever would. Dan had no intention of being found.

“Are you going back to work?” Maryellen asked.

“No,” she said, refusing to allow herself to succumb to self-pity. “I’m going to lunch.”

“Lunch? It’s after four. You didn’t eat earlier?”

“No.” Grace didn’t add that her appetite had been nonexistent for days as the appointment with the attorney grew closer. Then, because she knew her daughter was worried, she added emphatically, “I am going to be all right, Maryellen.”

Maryellen gazed down the steep hill toward the waterfront, where boats gently bobbed in the protected waters of the cove. Vehicles cruised down Harbor Street, so close together they looked like one continuous line. The Bremerton shipyard workers were out, and traffic filled the roads as husbands and fathers hurried home to their families. The same way Dan once had.

“I’m so furious with Dad I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again,” Maryellen said between gritted teeth.

Grace knew, though. She was convinced that Maryellen would be grateful, that she wouldn’t care what he’d done as long as he came home. And Kelly, their youngest, would shout with joy and tell them all how wrong they’d been. She’d run to her father with open arms, eagerly awaiting the excuse that would explain everything.

“I’m fine,” Grace insisted. “Really.”

Still Maryellen hesitated. “I hate to leave you.”

“I’ll get over this.” Although that was hardly the way she felt. But if Grace had learned anything in life, it was the importance of balance. For each loss, there were compensations, and she reminded herself to keep the good things firmly in sight. “I have so much to be grateful for. You and Kelly, and now a grandson. I’m so sorry it had to end this way with your father and me, but I’m going to come back stronger than ever.” Even as she said the words, Grace knew they were true. The sense of loss was profound, but balance would return to her life and so would joy.

It was Justine Gunderson’s lunch break, and all she wanted to do was run home and check the mail. She hadn’t heard from Seth in nearly a week. All right, five days, but each one of those days felt like a year. Her husband of little more than a month was in Alaska, fishing the crab-rich waters of the Bering Sea. Seth had warned her when she drove him to the airport that he’d be working sixteen-hour days. He’d assured her that he was crazy in love with her and would be back before she had time to miss him.

Seth had been wrong. Justine was miserable. They’d married, as the old western hit said, “in a fever,” unable to delay the wedding even one minute once they’d made the decision. Without telling either set of parents, they’d raced to Reno, gotten the license, found a preacher and afterward headed straight for a hotel room.

They were young and healthy and very much in love. Justine had known Seth nearly her entire life. He’d been her twin brother’s best friend—until Jordan drowned at age thirteen. Justine and Seth had been in the same high-school graduating class. In the ten years that followed, he’d lived in Cedar Cove but they hadn’t been in contact until recently, when they’d both reluctantly joined the committee planning their class reunion.

At the time, Justine had been dating Warren Saget, a local developer. Warren was quite a few years older than Justine; in fact, he was just a little younger than her own father. Warren liked having a beautiful woman on his arm and Justine suited him perfectly. It helped that she was willing to keep his little secret—while he might be successful in the boardroom, his powers didn’t extend to the bedroom. When they were together, she often spent the night at his plush hillside house overlooking the cove, but that was more for show than anything. She had her own bedroom in Warren’s home. Justine knew very well what people thought, but she’d never much cared.

However, her mother did. Olivia Lockhart shared the general assumptions about her arrangement with Warren and had plenty of opinions on the matter. Justine didn’t enlighten her because it was none of Olivia’s business. This disagreement between them had put a strain on the mother-daughter relationship. Her grandmother hadn’t been particularly pleased, either, but Charlotte wasn’t nearly as open in her disapproval. No doubt hoping to distract her from Warren, her mother had encouraged Justine to date Seth—although even Olivia had been shocked when Justine phoned to tell her she’d impulsively married him.

The marriage was practically as big a surprise to Justine as it was to her family. After a spat having to do with Warren, Seth had walked away from her. Justine couldn’t let it end like that, not with Seth, and she’d gone to him, hoping to make amends. To say they’d settled their differences was something of an understatement.

After the wedding, they’d only had that one weekend before Seth had to return to Alaska. In the weeks since, she’d heard from him intermittently, but he couldn’t call—or receive calls—while he was at sea, so their communications were few and far between.

Justine glanced at the time and tried to decide whether she should drive home and check the mail or not. If there was no letter, she’d feel depressed for the rest of the afternoon. On the other hand, if Seth did happen to send her a message, she’d be walking on clouds for days afterward. She needed a letter, a phone call, anything that would remind her she’d made the right choice in marrying him. Getting married was the only impulsive thing she’d ever done in all her twenty-eight years. She liked her life orderly and precise. The need for control had always ruled her choices—until she fell in love with Seth.

This commitment to order was one reason she fit in so well at First National Bank, rising quickly to the position of manager. Numbers made sense; they added up neatly; they were unambiguous. To the best of her ability, that was the way Justine lived her life—with strong convictions and with exactness, leaving little room for frivolity and impulse.

Out of habit, she looked up when the bank’s double glass doors swung open and watched as Warren Saget walked in, bold as could be. He moved directly toward her desk, his manner confident. Justine hadn’t seen him since her impromptu wedding. Unfortunately they hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Warren had been angry when he learned she’d married Seth and had made some ugly, spiteful remarks. Frankly Justine wasn’t up for a second confrontation.

She rose from her chair. At five-ten, plus her heels, she was as tall as Warren. She wore her straight brown hair long and parted in the middle, just as she had in high school, which emphasized her height. By standing, she sent a nonverbal message that she wasn’t about to let him intimidate her—and that she intended to keep this meeting short. She absolutely would not allow him to create a scene in front of her staff and customers. Zach Cox, a local accountant, nodded in her direction as he left the bank. Justine acknowledged him and returned her attention to Warren. “Hello, Warren.”

“Justine.” He met her eyes and the expression she read on his face told her that her fears were unfounded.

“I came to apologize,” he said. “I owe you that.”

“Yes, you do.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, conveying impatience.

“Can I take you to lunch?” he asked, then rushed to add, “It’s the least I can do. I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“I don’t think being seen together is a good idea.”

Warren’s pale brown eyes revealed his disappointment. “I can understand that,” he said, graciously accepting her refusal. To her astonishment, he sat down in the chair across from her desk.

Unsure what to expect next, Justine sank into her own seat.

“How’s Seth?” he asked. “Still in Alaska?”

She nodded. “He won’t be home for a few more weeks.” Twenty-eight days to be precise, if everything went according to schedule. She crossed off the days on her calendar every night as she slipped into her bed, alone and lonely. They hadn’t discussed the future; there hadn’t been time. One thing was certain—Justine hated the thought of her husband leaving her for several months each year. Already she dreaded next year’s fishing season, which would start in May.

“You’re looking good,” Warren said with a glint of admiration.

“Thank you,” she said, unsmiling.

He sighed. “I know you don’t believe me, but all I want is for you to be happy.”

Warren had been married and divorced three times and had asked her to be his wife on several occasions. Justine had always refused. She’d never had any interest in marrying Warren.

Aware of her growing attraction to Seth, Warren had purchased a startlingly large diamond ring in the hope of changing her mind. Justine hated to admit that the size of that diamond had briefly weakened her resolve. She knew Warren would have loved slipping the ring on her finger and claiming her as his exclusive property. But the man who’d pampered her was hurt and regretful now. He was asking her to forgive his angry reaction to her marriage.

“Well, perhaps we could go for lunch,” Justine said and knew she’d made the right decision when Warren’s face instantly brightened. She laughed at the way he bounded out of his chair, not bothering to disguise his eagerness. Seth wouldn’t mind her seeing Warren on a social basis now and then; Justine was sure of that. He respected her independence and her good sense, and he realized she’d never abuse his trust.

“Where would you like to go?” he asked. “Any place you want, you name it.”

“D.D.’s on the Cove,” she suggested, choosing his favorite restaurant.

“Perfect.” He smiled approvingly.

Justine reached for her purse and followed him toward the front door, which Warren held open for her. “Shall we walk?” she asked. D.D.’ s was only a couple of blocks away, but Warren usually preferred to drive.

“Sure,” he said. He was making a real effort to be accommodating. He stopped himself from taking her hand, she noticed, and was grateful. She’d actually missed Warren. Yes, he had his faults, but he could be a good conversationalist and had a sharp mind. There was a history between them, too, a history that had more to do with friendship than romance. In his own way he loved her and she cared for him, too, although not with the same intensity she did Seth. With her husband, the attraction was physical and powerful, but in the few days they’d spent together before he left for Alaska there hadn’t been time for much conversation. Their intense hunger for each other had overwhelmed them both. Justine didn’t need words to know how Seth felt. His lovemaking proved it again and again.

That weekend seemed like a dream now, and she wondered if what they’d discovered could possibly be real.

At the restaurant, Warren and Justine were seated outside. The patio wouldn’t be open much longer. Already autumn was in the air, but Warren chose to dine alfresco instead of at a table inside, knowing she enjoyed the sunshine.

“I hope we can still be friends,” Warren said, smiling as the waitress handed them menus.

“That would be nice.” She told herself again that lunch every now and then wouldn’t bother her husband. Seth wasn’t the jealous type and for that matter, neither was she.

Justine and Warren had a common interest in the financial world, so there was plenty to discuss. Their conversation over lunch went smoothly and the ache in Justine’s heart had lessened by the time they finished. She still missed Seth dreadfully, but didn’t feel nearly as alone and lost as she had earlier in the day. Warren hadn’t asked to see her again, hadn’t pressured her at all. After lunch they said farewell outside the bank, she thanked him for the meal and he left.

Later that afternoon, as she drove toward her apartment, Justine’s spirits were high, higher than they’d been all week. But when she approached the row of mailboxes outside her building complex, she hesitated, afraid to find out if there was a letter from Seth.

She needed to be reassured of his love because her greatest fear was that he regretted their sudden marriage. Her heart pounded as she unlocked the box and slid out the mail.

No letter.

She sorted through the advertisements, junk mail and two bills a second time, just to be sure. Another Friday night alone in front of the television, she thought. She could phone her mother, but Olivia had been dating Jack Griffin from The Cedar Cove Chronicle and was probably busy, anyway. Feeling defeated, Justine walked into her apartment and tossed her mail on the kitchen counter, kicking off her heels.

A few weeks ago, she would’ve relished a Friday night to herself. Warren almost always had plans for them. But all of that was irrelevant now, and feeling sorry for herself didn’t serve any useful purpose. If she missed Seth, then she should do something that would make her feel close to him.

His sailboat came immediately to mind. The Silver Belle was moored at the marina and Seth had given her the key. When he wasn’t fishing in Alaska he lived aboard the vessel. Or at least he had until their marriage. They hadn’t even talked about where they’d live when he got back…. That could wait, but right now, she needed the comfort of being in his home, among his things. If she spent the night there, she could wrap herself in his blanket, sleep in his clothes, breathe in his scent. She’d slept there several times and always felt better.

Pleased with the idea, Justine changed out of her business suit and into jeans and a sweatshirt. She collected a novel, a new CD for her Walkman and fresh clothes for the morning. She’d pick up dinner on the way to the marina.

She’d just reached the parking lot when she realized she’d left her cell phone behind. If Seth phoned, he’d call that number. Heading back to the apartment, she unlocked the door and opened it to hear the muted peal of her phone. She lurched for it, pushing the talk button with a sense of urgency.

“Hello, hello!” she shouted. “Seth? Seth, is that you?”

Only a dial tone greeted her question. Quickly she checked Caller ID—the number was unfamiliar, although prefaced by 907, the Alaska area code. She punched it in, letting the phone ring ten times before finally giving up.

Grinding her teeth with frustration, Justine sagged onto the edge of the sofa and rammed her fingers through her hair. It was Seth; it had to be. He must’ve called her from a pay phone on the wharf.

One minute away from her phone and she’d missed talking to her husband.

“I’m home.” Zach Cox let himself in the back door off the garage and stepped into the kitchen. His jaw tightened at the mess that greeted him. The sink was piled high with breakfast dishes, and the milk from this morning’s cereal was still on the countertop.

“Who left out the milk?” he demanded.

His two children—conveniently—didn’t hear him. Fifteen-year-old Allison was sitting at the computer in their home office, cruising the Internet, and Eddie, who was nine, lay prone on the family-room carpet in front of some mindless television program.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked next, standing directly over his son.

Eddie lifted one arm and pointed wordlessly toward the sewing room.

Zach ambled in that direction on his way to the bathroom. “Hi, Rosie, I’m home,” he told his wife of seventeen years. “What’s for dinner?”

“Oh, hi, honey,” Rosie said, glancing up from the sewing machine. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Six,” he muttered. He couldn’t remember when he’d last come home and found dinner in the oven. “The milk was left out again,” he said, thinking it would need to be dumped after sitting for ten hours at room temperature.

“Eddie fixed himself a bowl of cereal after school.”

Okay, he figured, the milk might be salvageable.

She lined up the shiny black material and ran it rapidly through the machine, pulling out pins as she went.

“What are you sewing?” he asked.

“A Halloween costume,” she mumbled with four or five pins clenched between her lips. “By the way—” she paused and removed the pins “—Eddie’s school is having an open house tonight. Can you go?”

“Open house?” he repeated. “You can’t be there?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “I have choir practice.”

“Oh.” He’d had a long, trying day at the office and had hoped to relax that evening. Instead, he was going to have to attend this event at his son’s school. “What’s for dinner?” he asked again.

His wife shrugged. “Call for a pizza, okay?”

It was the third time in the last two weeks that they’d had pizza for dinner. “I’m sick of pizza.”

“Doesn’t that new Chinese place deliver?”

“No.” He should know; he’d had Chinese just that afternoon. Janice Lamond, a recently hired employee, had picked up an order of sweet-and-sour shrimp for him. “Besides, that’s what I had for lunch.”

“What do you want then?” Rosie asked, busying herself with the cape that was part of the Harry Potter costume Eddie had requested.

“Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and a fresh salad.”

Rosie frowned. “I think there’s a meat loaf entrée in the freezer.”

“Homemade meat loaf,” Zach amended.

“Sorry, not tonight.”

“When?” he asked, cranky now. It wasn’t too much to ask that his wife have dinner ready when he came home from work—was it? As an accountant, Zach made enough money to ensure that Rosie could stay home with the kids. This arrangement was what they’d both wanted when they started their family.

At one time, Zach had assumed that when Allison and Eddie were in school, Rosie would come and work in the office with him. The firm of Smith, Cox and Jefferson often required additional staff. Rosie had always intended to get a job outside the home, but it just never seemed to happen. The school needed volunteers. Then there was Brownies when Allison was eight or nine, and now Cub Scouts for Eddie. And sports, after-school clubs, dance lessons… It soon became obvious that the demands on Rosie’s time wouldn’t be alleviated as the kids grew older. Because they both believed their children’s needs should come first, they’d decided Rosie shouldn’t re-enter the workforce.

“I’m tired,” Zach told his wife, “and I’m hungry. Is it unreasonable to expect dinner with my family?”

Rosie took a deep breath, as though she was struggling to hold on to her patience. “Eddie’s got open house at school tonight, Allison’s coming with me to practice with the junior choir and I’ve got to finish this Halloween costume before Friday. Eddie needs it for his soccer team’s party. I can only do so much.”

He could hear the annoyance in his wife’s voice and resisted asking her what she’d been doing all day while he was at work.

Rosie glared at him. “If you want me to stop everything right now and fix you dinner I will, but I have to tell you, I think you are being unreasonable.”

He considered her words, and then feeling defeated and a bit guilty said, “Fine. I’ll order pizza.”

“Be sure and tell them no green peppers,” she said, refocusing her attention on the costume.

“I like green peppers,” he muttered, not realizing Rosie could hear him.

“Eddie and Allison hate them—they prefer black olives. You know that. Now stop being difficult.”

“All right, I’ll order sausage with olives on one half and green peppers on the other.”

His wife rolled her eyes expressively. “I’m not all that fond of green peppers myself, you know.”

So, in addition to being unreasonable, he was selfish. Well, at least he was batting a thousand. “Sausage and black olives, then,” he said.

“Great.” He walked over to the kitchen phone, having memorized the number for Pizza Pete’s. He placed the order and made his way to the master bedroom.

“Where are you going now?” Rosie asked as he passed the sewing room.

“To shower and change.”

“Do you have to?” she muttered.

“What’s wrong with that?” he demanded.

She pushed away from the sewing machine and stood up. “I thought you might wear your suit to the open house.”

“Why?” He’d been waiting all afternoon to remove his tie.

“It’ll make a better impression if you meet Eddie’s teacher wearing a suit. Mrs. Vetter will know you’re a professional.” She coaxed him with a smile, then brushed a piece of lint off his shoulder and smoothed away a wrinkle. “You look so handsome in your suit,” she said, smiling. “Maybe you should shave, though.”

Zach ran his hand down his face, feeling the bristle scratch against his palm. She was right. “If I shower and shave, then I’m changing out of this suit.”

Rosie’s frown deepened. “I don’t know why you have to be so difficult.”

“If I had a decent dinner every once in a while, maybe I’d be more inclined to do as you ask,” he snapped. He couldn’t help remembering how pleasant lunch with Janice had been. She’d joined the staff the first of the month and had already proved herself as far as Zach was concerned. She was a quick learner, competent, cooperative. Twice she’d gone out of her way to make sure he had what he wanted for lunch. Only that afternoon she’d insisted on driving over to Mr. Wok’s for the shrimp dish.

Sitting on the end of the king-size bed, Zach yanked off his jacket and laid it beside him. Unfastening the buttons at his wrist, he rolled up his shirtsleeves and headed into the bathroom.

He was running hot water for a shave when Rosie came into the room. “Do you have enough cash for the pizza guy?”

“I think so,” he said. “Check my wallet.”

His wife met his gaze in the mirror. “I’m sorry about dinner.”

“You’re busy.”

“It was crazy today,” Rosie said, sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi tub. They’d special-ordered it when the house was built three years earlier and it’d taken months to arrive. Rosie had wanted it badly enough to give up using tile on the hallway and kitchen floors. Zach would have opted for the tile floors but he hadn’t been able to refuse his wife this small luxury. Yet he couldn’t remember the last time Rosie had actually used the tub. Like him, she was in and out of the shower, rushing from one obligation to the next.

She went on to tell him about her day, the committee meetings, Allison’s dental appointment and some library function she’d agreed to coordinate. “I don’t know how mothers who work outside the home get everything done.”

“I don’t, either,” Zach said, although he suspected that his associates’ wives put dinner on the table at night and still managed to work forty hours a week. He also suspected those other wives were better organized than Rosie.

“I’ll cook dinner tomorrow night,” she promised.

Zach spread shaving cream across his face. “Meat loaf and mashed potatoes?” He didn’t hold out much hope, but it sounded good to hear the promise.

“Whatever you want, big boy.”

Despite his irritation, he grinned. Maybe he was just being difficult.