Читать книгу 204 Rosewood Lane - Debbie Macomber - Страница 8

Four

Having her nails done every other week was Maryellen’s one luxury. Although beautifully manicured fingernails were an extravagance, she couldn’t make herself give it up. Even more than that small pleasure, though, Maryellen enjoyed her friendship with the “girls” at Get Nailed. They were close to her age and single, but unlike Maryellen they wanted men in their lives.

Every second Wednesday morning, Maryellen listened while they bemoaned their fates. She was often amused by the crazy schemes they devised for meeting men. Frankly, she couldn’t understand why Rachel, her nail tech, hadn’t found a decent man. Maryellen considered her attractive and savvy.

The third Wednesday in October, Maryellen arrived for her appointment. Rachel was, as usual, ready for her. As soon as Maryellen was seated, Rachel doused a cotton swab in nail polish remover and reached for her hand.

“How’s it going?” Rachel asked.

“Great, how about you? Meet anyone last weekend?”

“I wish,” Rachel returned with a long sigh. “I’m not getting any younger.”

Maryellen knew that Rachel had made it her goal to find a husband by age thirty, and her birthday was only a few months away.

“I read something interesting this week,” Maryellen told her. “It’s about a town in Ireland named Lisdoon-varna. Every September and the first week of October, eligible men come to town looking for wives. Apparently it’s a tradition that’s been going on for years.”

“This is a joke, right?” Terri asked from across the room.

“No, I swear to you this is real.”

“Where do these women come from?” Rachel asked.

“All over the world. According to the article, a woman flew all the way from Australia to find a husband—and she did.”

“I can’t afford to go to Ireland,” Rachel muttered.

“No, but maybe we could hold our own festival,” Terri suggested.

“You could do that,” Maryellen said, wanting to encourage the other women. She didn’t want to get involved herself, but she did hope the crew of Get Nailed would do something with the idea.

“A Marriage Fest?” Terri’s voice picked up speed with her excitement.

“Yeah, but who’d come?” Rachel asked. “I can see it now. We’d make headlines ‘cause we’re throwing a party in order to meet potential husbands, and not one man would show up.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Terri said with a discouraged sigh.

“If I want to get out of a relationship, all I have to do is mention the word marriage and the man drops me like a hot potato.” Rachel frowned as she concentrated on Maryellen’s chipped thumbnail.

“You’re right about that,” Jane, another tech, added. “Men in America have got it too good.” There was a chorus of agreement.

“I’ve given up on Prince Charming. I’d be happy to meet the guy who grooms his horse,” Rachel said.

Maryellen smiled, and so did petite, blond Jane.

“Actually, forget about the guy grooming the horse,” Rachel went on, “I’d settle for a man who knows how to change the oil in my car.”

“I dated a guy like that once,” Terri told her. “Larry’s head was constantly under the hood of a car. He was far more interested in listening to an engine purr than me. It’s too bad because he was basically a nice guy.”

“Why’d you break up?”

“He got grease on my white silk blouse.”

“You broke up with a great guy because he ruined your blouse?”

Terri nodded. “What can I say? That blouse cost me seventy bucks, and Larry didn’t seem to think it was any big deal. The way I figure it, if a guy can’t appreciate a seventy-dollar blouse, then I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“I’d like to meet a man who has his head screwed on straight when it comes to money,” Jane said. “Everyone I’ve ever dated expects me to pick up the tab because they’re constantly broke.”

“I met this rich guy once, but he was dead boring,” Jeannie said, leaping into the conversation. “We dated for three months and I broke up with him because I had more fun washing my hair.”

“I’ll take a boring guy over a user any day of the week,” Jane informed her.

“What about you, Terri?” Maryellen asked. Terri, who dressed in bold, bright colors, was tall and big-boned, with soulful dark eyes. “What kind of man interests you?”

“I want a man who appreciates good food and isn’t afraid of a woman who likes to eat,” she said without hesitating. “I’m sick of men who want skinny women. I want a man to take me to a fancy restaurant and ask me to order an appetizer and suggest I save room for dessert. Better yet, I’d like a man who did the cooking himself.” She glanced around the shop. “Does anyone know someone like that?”

A sudden silence cut off the lively conversation. “Well, actually, I do know someone who cooks,” Maryellen said slowly, thinking of Jon Bowman. “Jon’s a chef at a truly wonderful restaurant.”

“Why’d you break up with him?” Rachel asked.

“We’ve never, uh, actually dated.” Nor would they, despite her curiosity. Maryellen loved Jon’s work and he intrigued her as a person, but her interest in him wasn’t romantic. No men in her life, no matter how attractive: that was her Number One rule. “I’d be willing to introduce you, Terri, if you wanted.”

“You would?” The other woman’s voice lifted with enthusiasm.

“So what do we do next?” Rachel asked, glancing around the shop. “It looks like we’ve all dated a man who meets someone else’s criteria, which is great but isn’t helping any of us right now.”

“We could throw a party,” Jeannie said. “Sort of drag out our discards for the others to sort through.”

“A rummage sale of old lovers,” Terri suggested. Her client laughed, and the other women at the shop joined in.

“I’ll wear my black blouse,” Rachel said decisively. “I don’t care if Larry ruins that.” Then, looking at Maryellen, she added in a whisper, “I can’t afford to be picky. My car’s in sad shape.”

Jane reached for the calendar. “We could make it a Halloween party,” she announced. “What do you think?”

The immediate consensus was that a Halloween party was a good idea.

“That’ll give us a little more than two weeks to come up with some fun ideas. Let’s get this organized.”

“Yeah.”

“You bet.”

“Count me in.”

Maryellen wasn’t sure how it happened, but despite her original reluctance, she soon found herself involved.

“How are we going to get the guys to come?” Jane, the most practical of the group, asked. “I don’t think Floyd would be interested in dating me again.”

“Larry could be married for all I know.”

“Ask,” Maryellen said. “And you need to be up-front with them. Explain to the guy that you’re bringing him to the party as your guest, but he’ll be meeting other women once he gets there.”

“I’ll let Larry know that someone’s dying to meet him,” Terri said.

“Perfect!” Rachel sounded absolutely delighted.

When Maryellen left Get Nailed, her head was spinning. She really hadn’t meant to become part of this scheme, although she’d started the conversation.

She didn’t know how the others planned to handle this, but she certainly wasn’t going to wait for the last minute to mention the party to Jon. When Terri had talked about wanting to meet a man who enjoyed food, he’d come instantly to mind. In retrospect, Maryellen regretted mentioning his name. She didn’t know what had prompted her. It was probably because he’d been in her thoughts ever since their last meeting. This latest group of photographs was some of his best work to date, and she’d been almost sorry they’d sold so quickly.

Considering that she’d suggested the direct approach to the others, she felt obliged to follow her own advice. She waited a week, and then dialed the phone number listed in her Rolodex.

Jon answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Jon, hello, this is Maryellen Sherman.” She hesitated, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. “The manager of Harbor Street Art Gallery,” she added.

“Yes, I know.”

She’d swear he sounded amused, which only served to fluster her more.

“I’ve been invited to a Halloween party,” she said, rushing to explain the reason for her call. “Everyone’s supposed to come with a date—well, not a date exactly. We’ve been asked to bring someone, a man, to introduce to someone else. I have this friend who’s really lovely and she likes to eat.” She grimaced, thinking that sounded kind of dumb, but plunged on, anyway. “She enjoys her food and well, her biggest wish is to meet a man who likes to cook and naturally, I thought of you.” She realized she was rambling and stopped abruptly.

There was no response.

“Would you be interested in attending the party?” she finally asked. “You’d be under no obligation.” She wanted that understood. “Basically, you’d be doing me a favor.”

“By meeting this friend of yours.”

“Yes.”

“The one who enjoys a good meal.”

“Yes. Her name’s Terri, and she’s a lot of fun. I think you’d like her.”

“You’d be there?”

Maryellen sighed. “Yes, of course. I’d introduce you to Terri. So—what do you think?”

“Can I let you know later?” he asked after another long pause.

“Of course.” She figured she should feel encouraged that he hadn’t rejected her outright.

“Then I’ll be in touch.”

“Great.”

“Listen, before you go, did you get a chance to look over my pictures?”

“Oh, yes, and they’re fabulous! I’ve sold every one of them already. I was hoping you’d be bringing me more.”

“I’m working on it.”

“That would be great.” This was by far the longest and most involved conversation of their three-year working relationship.

“You haven’t come into André’s,” Jon said. “I was looking forward to cooking for you.”

“I appreciated the invitation, really I did, but I’m worried about giving you the wrong impression. Like I explained, I’m divorced and I’m not going to remarry and this party is just a friends thing…. If you came, that would be fabulous but only because I want you to meet Terri. Oh, did I mention we’re holding it at The Captain’s Galley, in the bar?” She managed to get all that out in a single breath. “Halloween night,” she added.

“I’ll get back to you.”

Maryellen thought that was fair enough.

After two glorious days and nights with her husband, Justine no longer had any doubts about her marriage. She was more in love than she’d dreamed possible.

Flying up to Alaska on the spur of the moment like that, without making any arrangements, had been preposterous, and yet she’d found Seth. Justine considered it a sign. Seth was truly meant to be her husband.

In a few weeks he’d be home, and they could discuss the future and make the necessary plans for their lives together. There had been so many pressing questions she’d wanted to ask him. But once they were together, none of them had seemed all that important. The only thing that mattered was lying in Seth’s arms, sharing their love.

Justine vowed that if Seth asked it of her, she’d live aboard his sailboat for the rest of her life. But she suspected he’d probably want to move in with her. Staying in her apartment was more practical than living at the marina.

She’d told him about sleeping on his boat at her most desperate moments, seeking to feel closer to him. From his reaction, she knew he’d been touched by her fears. He’d kissed her again and again as she described her doubts, all the while whispering reassurances and promises. Justine had left Alaska feeling deeply loved.

The following Friday night, Justine dropped by her mother’s house on Lighthouse Road. She hadn’t been avoiding Olivia, but she hadn’t sought her out, either.

By the time Justine pulled up in front of the large two-story house with the wide wraparound veranda, her mother was at the door, waiting for her.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Justine! I’m so glad to see you,” Olivia said, hugging her tight. “You haven’t come to the house in ages.”

“I’ve been busy—in fact, last weekend I flew up to Alaska to see Seth.”

“You were in Alaska? You might’ve let someone know.” The disapproving edge was back, but Justine chose to ignore it.

“You’re right, I should have,” she agreed mildly. She wasn’t here to fight with her mother.

“Come inside,” Olivia insisted, wrapping her sweater more snugly around her. “It’s cool this evening.”

Justine obediently followed her mother into the house. The kitchen was the most comfortable room and it seemed natural to sit there. “Tea?” Olivia asked. It was one of their long-standing rituals.

“Please.”

Her mother turned away as she put water on to boil. “How is Seth?”

“Wonderful. He’ll be home soon. I miss him so much. That’s the reason I flew to Alaska—I just couldn’t stand being so far away from Seth and I had all these air miles from my credit card. I called the airline, got a seat and off I went—without even knowing if I’d find him or not. I was afraid to tell you what I was doing for fear you’d try to change my mind.”

“You went through all that to be with your husband?” her mother asked.

“Oh, yes. I really am in love with him, Mom.”

Justine expected this news to be exactly what her mother wanted to hear. Instead Olivia was frowning.

“What?” Justine asked.

Olivia pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “Does Seth know you had lunch with Warren?”

So that explained it. Her mother knew. For that matter, so did Seth, and while he hadn’t asked her not to see Warren again, she could tell he wasn’t pleased that she’d accepted his invitation to lunch. Justine had been a bit surprised by that, but she wouldn’t do it again.

“Warren wants you back, doesn’t he?” her mother said when she didn’t immediately respond.

“Did I mention that Maryellen Sherman and I met for lunch earlier this week?” Justine said, pointedly changing the subject. Warren was off-limits as far as she was concerned. “She wanted to congratulate Seth and me.”

Her mother set the bowl of tea bags in the center of the table. “So you’d prefer not to discuss Warren.”

“That’s right.”

Olivia squared her shoulders and nodded firmly. “Then we won’t. Tell me about Seth. When will he be back?”

Justine filled in the details. The longer she spoke, the more relaxed her mother became—and Justine understood why. Her mother finally had complete confidence in her love for Seth. Olivia now knew that nothing Warren said or did was going to change the way Justine felt about her husband.

“How is Maryellen?” Olivia asked as she poured them each a second cup of tea. “I see Grace every week at our aerobics class, but we seldom have a chance to talk.” She laughed. “Actually we need all our energy just to breathe. Did Maryellen tell you Grace filed for divorce?”

Justine nodded. “By the way, what happened with Maryellen’s marriage?” It’d never occurred to her to ask before. Justine had only been fourteen at the time. All she remembered was her mother and Grace, her best friend, talking on the phone a great deal. Maryellen had moved home for a while, and she’d taken back her maiden name as if she’d never been married at all.

Her mother stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her tea. “I don’t think anyone really knows, not even Grace. When Maryellen got married, I remember Grace telling me she didn’t feel Clint Jorstad was a good match for her daughter.”

“Apparently she was right,” Justine said. Then a frightening thought occurred to her. “What do you feel about Seth and me?” she asked, raising hopeful eyes to her mother, trusting her judgment and wisdom.

“Oh, Justine, I think the world of Seth. I couldn’t be more pleased for you both. Seth’s perfect for you.”

Justine smiled. “I think so, too, Mom, I really do.” For the first time in a while, she thought about her brother. Seth and Jordan were best friends, and then Jordan had drowned the summer they were all thirteen. Seth was in Alaska with his father and hadn’t learned of the accident until he’d returned home. Justine had been with Jordan that dreadful August day. She’d held his lifeless body until the paramedics arrived. He was her twin, her best friend and her brother. Her entire world had changed that summer. Only a few months afterward, her parents had divorced and within a shockingly short time her father had remarried. Her younger brother, James, seemed oblivious to the uprooting of their security, but Justine had felt it all, lived it all.

“What are you thinking?” her mother asked, a slight frown on her face.

Justine shook her head. “Nothing important,” she said, which wasn’t true. But she didn’t want to bring up the one memory that would never stop hurting. The one death her mother could never recover from. Drinking the last of her tea, she carried the cup and saucer to the sink and said, “I’d better get home.”

“Thank you for coming by.” Olivia touched Jus-tine’s cheek. “I’m thrilled about you and Seth. Honestly.”

“I am happy, Mom,” Justine said and impulsively hugged her mother. “Next time I won’t wait so long to visit.”

“Good.” Olivia walked her to the porch and waved as Justine drove off.

When Justine got back to the apartment complex, she found a note from the manager taped to her door; it said she’d accepted a delivery on Justine’s behalf.

After dropping off her mail, she hurried down to the manager’s office and learned that a huge flower arrangement had arrived. The large crystal vase was filled with an array of carnations, pink lilies, irises and a handful of others she couldn’t name, as well as artful sprigs of greenery. It could only be from Seth.

Justine could hardly wait to read the card. Seth loved her, missed her, and her sweet, wonderful husband must have realized she’d need an emotional boost to get her through the next few weeks.

Justine discovered almost immediately how wrong she was. Only one word was written on the card.

Warren.

She groaned with disappointment and tossed the small card onto the kitchen counter. She set the vase carelessly on the table, cringing every time she looked at it.

An hour later, while she was scrounging around her refrigerator, seeking out something easy and edible for dinner, the doorbell rang.

She answered it to find Warren Saget standing there, wearing a flashy thousand-dollar business suit and an even flashier smile. “Hello, Justine.”

“Hello, Warren,” she said without enthusiasm.

“Did you get my flowers?”

She didn’t invite him inside. “I did, but I wish you hadn’t.”

“I wanted to thank you for having lunch with me.”

She’d guessed as much. “It was very thoughtful.”

He met her eyes, then stared at the handle on the door. “Can I come in?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” If her mother had heard about their lunch date, Justine wondered how many other people in town already knew. She had no intention of adding to the gossip by having Warren’s visit to her apartment reported next.

“All right,” Warren said, looking hurt and a little confused. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You didn’t, it’s just that…” She stopped herself from saying more. Warren was far too clever when it came to getting his own way and she wasn’t going to make it any easier.

He waited for her to continue and when she didn’t, he asked, “Do you have any plans tonight?”

She certainly wasn’t telling him that the most exciting plan she had was a rerun of Nash Bridges. “Why?”

“I was hoping you’d have dinner with me. No pressure. It’s just that I figured you might be lonely with Seth gone for so many weeks. I thought you might enjoy a night on the town.”

“No thanks, Warren.”

He shrugged. “No harm in asking,” he said with a forced smile.

“Actually I think there might be.”

He arched his eyebrows as if she’d surprised him.

“The two of us shouldn’t be seeing each other. It’s…inappropriate. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t visit me again—either at work or at my apartment.”

The hurt-little-boy look was back. “Justine, you don’t think I’d purposely do anything to jeopardize your relationship with Seth, do you?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I mean it, Warren, stay away from me.”

“You told him, didn’t you?” Warren’s eyes narrowed. “That big Swedish oaf is jealous.” He laughed, although the sound was humorless.

She refused to defend Seth or make excuses for him. Her husband was uncomfortable with her seeing Warren and that was the end of it. Her relationship with Warren was over; it had been for a long time, regardless of their recent lunch date. Nothing he said or did was going to change her mind.

“The next thing I know,” he said bitterly, “you’ll be telling me that big oaf got you pregnant.”

“Warren, please.” She dragged out his name, implying that this conversation was boring her. “Just go.” She wasn’t willing to stand in the doorway and argue with him. She started to close the door, but Warren’s words stopped her.

“You are pregnant, aren’t you?” he demanded. “Don’t you see what he’s doing to you?”

“Warren…”

“Don’t let it happen, Justine. I’d hoped you’d come to your senses before—”

She was through listening and shut the door with a resounding bang.

Leaning against it, Justine felt weak with relief. He was gone. She’d been an idiot to go out for lunch with him that day. She saw now that it was disloyal to Seth; furthermore, Warren was too competitive to ever be a friend, as she’d naively thought. Not only that, Cedar Cove was a small town, and perceptions mattered. She couldn’t risk humiliating her husband by allowing people to think she was seeing Warren—her supposed former lover—behind his back.

Warren had brought up an interesting point, though. Pregnancy. Shortly after Jordan’s death and her parents’ divorce, Justine had decided she didn’t want children. But now that she was married, she realized her views had changed. She could only hope Seth felt the same way.

Jack Griffin slapped cologne on his freshly shaved cheeks and blinked at the sting. He caught his reflection in the spotted and foggy mirror and wiggled his eyebrows a couple of times.

“Tonight,” he said aloud, reminding himself that this could very well be the evening he lured Olivia Lockhart into his bed. Their relationship had been progressing nicely—very nicely. But they were both mature adults, and with those years had come a certain… patience. A kind of caution. They weren’t twenty-year-olds at the mercy of their hormones. Still, he was a man in every sense of the word, and he’d like nothing better than to take their relationship to a physical level. Beyond kissing and cuddling… He was ready to make the leap and hoped she agreed.

The divorced family court judge wasn’t like other women he’d known. Olivia had class and culture, and he was a no-account drunk who remained sober one day at a time.

Grace Sherman had told him about Olivia’s upcoming birthday and he was grateful. This was exactly the occasion he’d been looking for, a chance to show her exactly how much he cared. Jack had searched long and hard for the perfect birthday gift. His quest had been to find something that would let her know the message of his heart. Something that suited a woman who was both sophisticated and unpretentious. The diamond tennis bracelet was it.

Choosing a clean shirt, he reached for the gray velvet box and examined the bracelet. It was stunning, if he said so himself. He’d never bought anything as beautiful as this, not even for his ex-wife. The jeweler had sold him on the quality, and had then shaved off an extra ten per cent when Jack showed more than idle interest. Nothing wrong with being practical, he figured. The extra cash would go toward a fancy dinner at The Captain’s Galley. He enjoyed imagining Olivia’s reaction when she opened the box. Twice now he’d wrapped it, and then because he wanted to be assured it was as lovely as he remembered, he’d unwrapped it just to take another peek.

Whistling, Jack finished dressing. Tonight, he said again, his blood already heating at the thought of Olivia lying in his arms.

A sound came from the direction of his living room and he stuck his head outside the bedroom door. “Anyone here?”

No response.

Jack frowned, then checked his reflection one last time.

“Dad?”

Jack froze. Eric was here? Now?

“Eric?” Jack stepped out of the bedroom to find his twenty-six-year-old son standing in the middle of his living room, a suitcase in his hand.

“You were on your way out?” Eric asked.

“I’m not expected for a while,” Jack assured him. The boy looked dreadful, his complexion pale with pain. His shoulders were hunched and his misery was evident in every line of his body. “What’s wrong?”

Eric shrugged.

Experience had taught him that only a woman was capable of bringing a man to this point. “Did you and Shelly have a fight?”

Eric’s returning snort was devoid of humor. “You could say that.”

Glancing at the suitcase in his son’s hand, he assumed this was more than the usual disagreement. “She kicked you out?”

Eric nodded.

His son slumped onto the sofa and gazed pleadingly up at Jack. “Do you have time to talk, Dad?”

Jack’s relationship with his son was tenuous at best. For almost his entire life, Eric had lived with his mother. Even after Jack became sober, Eric had rejected every effort he’d made to establish a relationship. This year, this past spring, was the first time Eric had agreed to see Jack. Afraid he might inadvertently say or do something to distress his son, Jack had invited Olivia along for the initial meeting. They’d all had dinner on the Seattle waterfront. Buoyed by the success of that outing, Jack and Eric had gotten together every month or so since.

Jack was thrilled with the prospect of having a good relationship with his only child. He had a lot to prove, both to Eric and himself. He didn’t want anything to injure this fragile beginning.

“Of course I have time. Tell me what’s on your mind.” Jack sat down across from his son, leaning forward so Eric would know he was interested and that he cared.

“It’s Shelly and her pregnancy,” Eric murmured.

That much Jack had guessed, but he didn’t say anything.

“The baby can’t be mine. I told her that and she blew up at me. She said if I seriously think she’s pregnant by someone else, then I should get out of her life.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Jack murmured. “Women say things like that when they’re upset.”

“She meant it enough to throw me out of the apartment.”

So much for that pearl of wisdom, Jack mused. He cursed himself for not being better at this.

Eric looked as if he was about to weep. “She said she never wanted to see me again.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean that, either.”

“I think she did.”

“Perhaps she did when she said it, but she’ll have a change of heart later.” Jack winced at his own glibness. “Soon,” he added. “She’ll ask you to come home soon.”

“I hope she does,” Eric said emphatically. “The apartment’s leased in my name,” he added, “but I don’t want her to move. She can have the apartment if she wants.”

“What about you? Where will you go?”

Eric hesitated, then glanced up. “Would you mind very much if I stayed here with you? Just for the time being.”

“Me?” Jack echoed, and was instantly sorry. “Me—well, I guess we won’t get in each other’s way too much, if it’s only for a few days.” So much for romantic evenings with Olivia any time in the near future.

“It probably won’t be for long.” Eric sounded hopeful.

“Of course not,” Jack said, his voice as confident as he could manage. “My guess is that Shelly will call tomorrow, wanting you to come home.”

“You think so?” Eric’s eyes brightened.

“Sure thing.”

Eric shook his head, his expression grim. “I doubt it, Dad. First of all, I didn’t tell her I was coming here and secondly…” He paused and rubbed his face. “Do you think the doctors might’ve made a mistake about me?” The appeal in his eyes was painful to see.

“You mean about being able to father children?”

“Yeah. Is there any chance?”

Jack looked at him thoughtfully. “It was a lot of years ago. There are ways of finding out about these things, you know.”

“Yes, but Shelly says…” He sighed deeply. “I wouldn’t suspect her of being with another man, but a little while ago she mentioned this new guy she’s working with and they seemed to be real buddy-buddy. They were doing a lot of overtime together—and now she turns up pregnant. What else am I supposed to believe?”

Jack glanced at his watch. Olivia was expecting him to pick her up in five minutes.

“You have somewhere to go, don’t you?” Eric asked. “You should leave,” he urged, but if anything, he sounded worse than when he’d first arrived.

“Let me see what I can do,” Jack said, his own heart sinking fast. He couldn’t leave Eric like this. The boy was hurting and needed to talk. For so many years, he hadn’t been any kind of father to his son, and he wasn’t about to fail Eric again.

“Let me call Olivia,” he said. “She’ll understand.”

“You’re sure?” Eric asked.

“Of course.” Disheartened, Jack sequestered himself in his bedroom and dialed Olivia’s number.

She answered almost immediately and seemed surprised to hear from him.

“I have to break our date.”

“Our date tonight?” She sounded as disappointed as he was.

“Eric’s here,” Jack explained.

“Oh.”

“Shelly kicked him out and he came to me. He needs to talk. And he may end up staying here for a few days.” He sighed. “I hate to do this to you, but you understand, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said softly. “He’s your son.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry about this.”

“I’ll call Mom and keep the reservation. I’d rather have dinner with you, but I understand. Children—regardless of their age—always need to come first. You know how strongly I believe that. Thanks for telling me, Jack, and good luck.”

Jack understood that she was praising his effort to communicate with his son—and with her. The one thing Olivia hated above all else was secrets, a lesson he’d learned early on in their relationship when he’d tried to hide the fact that he was a recovering alcoholic.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said.

“Later,” Jack repeated and then because he’d almost forgotten, he added, “Olivia?”

“Yes?”

“Happy Birthday.”