Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 26

Charlotte was fast losing patience with Cliff Harding. He’d assured her he’d come to town to look over the things she’d taken from Tom’s storage unit, but that was more than a month ago. Cliff continued to delay the meeting. Although his excuses sounded plausible, Charlotte could see that this simply wasn’t a high priority for him.

That distressed her, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“I’d drive out and see him myself,” her friend Laura told her on the Monday following her birthday.

Charlotte was with her knitting friends at the Senior Center. A few weeks ago she’d casually mentioned talking to Tom’s grandson, but hadn’t told them everything involved. She wasn’t about to admit, even to her nearest and dearest friends, that she’d committed a felony.

“I would, too,” Evelyn added. “From what you said, it isn’t that far.”

“It’ll mean driving on the highway.” Any road with more than two lanes terrified Charlotte. Cars whizzed past, and no matter what lane she was in, she seemed to annoy the other drivers, especially if she followed the posted speed. What did these people think the speed limit was, anyway? A suggestion? Everyone seemed to be in such an all-fired hurry these days. She’d drive over to see him if she had to, but she wouldn’t like it and she’d make darn sure Cliff Harding heard about it.

“I don’t know what it is with young people today,” Helen muttered, jerking on her yarn with unnecessary force. “They don’t respect their elders the way we were taught to.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” This came from Bess, who nodded emphatically.

“You were his grandfather’s friend. One would think he’d welcome the opportunity to thank you.”

“It didn’t escape my notice,” Helen said, leaning toward Bess, “that he didn’t visit his grandfather, either.”

“I’m going to phone him again,” Charlotte said, decision made. “And I’ll let him know when he can expect me.” She’d put it off for nearly five weeks already. Cliff Harding always had an excuse. There had been that business trip, and last week there was a brief message on her answering machine—one of his horses was about to foal and he couldn’t leave. Charlotte could only imagine what his excuse would be this week. And the next. No, Laura was right, it was time to take matters into her own hands.

When Charlotte returned home, she tucked away her knitting, made a fuss over Harry, and then, filled with determination, headed toward her phone.

Tom’s grandson answered, sounding far more congenial than he ever had before.

“This is Charlotte Jefferson,” she announced.

“Yes, Mrs. Jefferson, I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you.”

Charlotte just bet he had. Probably with another of his lame excuses. “I’m sorry to trouble you again, but seeing that you’ve been unable to keep your appointment with me—”

“That was what I planned to discuss with you. Would this afternoon be convenient?”

The indignation that had been bolstered by her friends’ well-meaning advice was suddenly unnecessary. “This afternoon would be fine,” she muttered, feeling deflated and, truth to tell, a little disappointed. She’d been ready to blast him; she’d even worked out some very effective remarks about family duty on the drive home. Now she wouldn’t be able to use them.

“I imagine it’s a bit disconcerting to be sleeping with a gun under your bed.”

Charlotte heard the teasing in his voice and decided to ignore it. “Actually, I moved the gun to my underwear drawer.” She didn’t mention that she’d wrapped it in an old girdle.

“Your underwear drawer?” he repeated.

Again, she’d amused him, but this time she couldn’t fathom why. That was a clever hiding place in her opinion. No one breaking into the house, if they got past her overprotective cat, would think to search for anything of significance in a drawer of cotton panties. Anything that was the least bit important in Charlotte’s house invariably ended up there. Her savings passbook was tucked inside her support panty hose. No thief was going to catch her off guard.

“What time will you be here?” she wanted to know.

“Is around four okay?”

“That would be perfect.” Charlotte gave him directions to her home and they ended the conversation. Then, because she wanted to be hospitable, she baked cookies. The recipe had been given to her three years ago at a seniors’ potluck and it always went over well. Men, especially, seemed to like these cookies, which were thick with chocolate chips, coconut and pecans.

She’d just finished scraping the last of the batch from the cookie sheet when the doorbell rang. Charlotte hurried toward the front door, picking up Harry to keep him from escaping. Her cat purred in her ear as she turned open the three locks. The last one had been installed only recently. Charlotte wasn’t going to make a thief’s job easy for him, no sir. She couldn’t afford one of those fancy security systems, but she had her own safeguards.

The man who stood on the other side of the threshold was a good six feet tall with a small paunch. He wore a cowboy hat and boots, blue jeans with a brown jacket and a string tie.

“Mrs. Jefferson?”

“Yes. You must be Cliff Harding.” She unlocked the screen door and held it open for him. “Come in, please.”

He stepped into her modest home and sniffed appreciatively. “You been baking cookies?”

“I just wanted to be neighborly,” she said, inviting him to take a seat on her sofa. She was ready. The silver service was set up, the pot filled with fresh coffee. The service was used only on rare occasions, but she wanted to make a good impression on Tom’s grandson. The cookies were still warm from the oven.

Charlotte noticed that she didn’t need to urge Cliff to help himself. She sat down across from him.

“How much do you know about your grandfather?” she asked, pouring for them both.

Cliff leaned forward and accepted the delicate china cup. “Only what my father told me.” This was said with a scowl. “And frankly, it wasn’t complimentary. Tom Harding was a scoundrel and a womanizer.”

“That I wouldn’t know. I only knew him during the last few months of his life.”

“Were you aware that he abandoned his family in order to pursue his film career? My grandmother and father lived on charity and died in poverty while Tom Houston, The Yodeling Cowboy, lived the high life. If I have no interest in his effects, I’m sure you can understand why.”

Charlotte found it difficult to think badly of Tom. This wasn’t the man she knew. “By the time I met Tom, he’d suffered a stroke and had lost his ability to speak.”

“You said he requested to be transferred to Cedar Cove?”

“That’s my understanding.” Charlotte reached for a cookie. She should avoid the unneeded calories, but these were simply too good to ignore.

“Do you think I was the reason?”

“I’m positive.” Charlotte didn’t doubt it for a moment. “What you said about your grandfather may very well be true. I can’t possibly know, nor is it important that I do. But I can tell you about the man who became my friend. He wanted to meet you, I’m convinced of that, but I think he was afraid.”

“Of me?”

She nodded. “He moved to Cedar Cove because it was the closest facility to where you lived. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose.” He didn’t seem convinced.

“I understood Tom. Don’t ask me how or why, but the two of us bonded. Some days it was almost as if we could talk. I understood what he wanted to say and he appeared to understand me.”

“My father said he always did have a way with the ladies.”

Charlotte stiffened, then decided Cliff was probably right. She wouldn’t take offense, although that was her first instinct. “Your grandfather never had the chance to tell you he loved you.”

“Loved me?” Cliff flared. “He never even met me.”

“You’re right, of course, but you were his only living relative. He’d obviously kept track of you. Otherwise, how would he have known where you were living or that you raised horses?”

“Are you sure he knew that?”

“I believe he did. The same way I’m confident he wanted you to have the things I took out of his storage unit. He wasn’t able to be part of your life. Perhaps he felt he didn’t have the right to intrude on you. But it’s his blood that runs through your veins. He was proud of you—I know it. Proud to be your grandfather. This is all he had to give you.”

Cliff Harding set down his coffee and stood. Staring out the window, he turned his back to Charlotte. “I came this afternoon to thank you for your efforts on my grandfather’s behalf and to tell you I wanted nothing to do with the man.”

“And now?”

“You’re a very persuasive woman, Mrs. Jefferson.”

“Does that mean you’ll take his things home with you?” She hoped he would. And more importantly, she wanted him to examine each piece and discover the man Tom Harding had been. She feared Cliff would pack everything away without learning about his heritage.

“I’ll take them.”

“And you’ll carefully study what your grandfather left you?”

He nodded.

“I believe you’ve made a wise decision.” Sighing deeply, Charlotte knew she’d put in a good day’s work. Somehow, she’d accomplished what Tom had wanted her to do. And on a more personal note, she’d be glad to remove the gun from her girdle.

Justine bought a slinky blue dress for her ten-year class reunion, but she didn’t know who she was hoping to impress. Her one consolation, as she headed out the door for the festivities, was that Seth Gunderson wouldn’t be attending. She should know. As the treasurer for the reunion, Justine had compiled a list of who’d signed up and who’d paid. Seth had done neither.

She felt humiliated arriving without a date, but why should this night be different from any other high-school function? Justine had been an outsider all through those years. She was the class brain, the valedictorian and the girl voted most likely to succeed. With several scholarships offered, she’d dutifully chosen a prestigious East Coast school and followed the course set out for her, but she was never truly happy.

She hated life on campus, hated being away from Cedar Cove. After her graduation, she’d taken a job at First National. In the years since, she’d been promoted steadily. Now she was the youngest branch manager in Cedar Cove history, and one of the bank’s youngest senior employees. Justine loved the challenge of her job and enjoyed playing an active role in financing the growth of her community. But she considered her personal life a dismal failure.

Warren would have attended the reunion with her if she’d pressed him. She hadn’t, afraid her former classmates would assume he was her father or, even worse, an old teacher they couldn’t quite place.

The high-school gymnasium looked great, if she did say so herself. The decoration committee, of which she was a part, had worked hard and done a fabulous job. Fresh flowers were everywhere, on the tables and in huge rented vases along the walls.

The band was already playing, and almost involuntarily Justine tapped her foot to the music as she waited in line to collect her badge and sign in. Everyone around her was talking; she was surrounded by squeals of recognition and “do you remember when’s.” Just as she had in high school, she remained the outsider, listening in, smiling and pretending she felt at ease when she didn’t.

Attending this reunion was a bad idea. Her instincts had told her that months earlier, and she should’ve heeded them.

“Justine!” Lana Rothchild hurried around the sign-in table and hugged her as though it’d been years since they’d seen each other. Actually they’d worked on the decorations together that very morning. “I love your dress.”

“Thanks.” The metallic-blue dress had short sleeves and a deep V in front. Knee-length, it clung to her trim figure. She’d bought the dress on impulse and had decided not to think too hard about it.

“Do you need any help?” Justine asked, looking for a way to appear busy and needed and part of the group.

“Everything’s under control. You just enjoy yourself.”

Justine wondered if that was possible.

“I can’t thank you enough for all the help you gave us,” Lana said as she handed Justine a badge.

With no further excuse to linger, she walked into the main part of the gymnasium. A few couples were dancing, a clump of women had gathered on one side, a group of men on the other—not all that different from the high-school dances she’d attended. Thinking a glass of wine would relax her, she found the bar and ordered a zinfandel, then stood by herself on the outskirts of the dance floor. It had been the same ten years earlier.

“Hello, Justine.”

Seth Gunderson stood directly in front of her, deeply tanned, his hair so blond it was almost white. His eyes had never looked bluer.

“What are you doing here?”

He grinned. “I graduated the same year as you, remember?”

“I mean…” She found it difficult to think. “Aren’t you…I thought…well, of course we graduated the same—”

“I flew home for the reunion,” he said, answering the question she couldn’t seem to get past her teeth.

“I realize that…what about…” Rather than continue making an idiot of herself, she simply stopped talking.

“You’re surprised to see me. Actually, I surprised myself by deciding to fly down at the last minute.”

Surprised was an understatement, as far as Justine was concerned.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked.

She couldn’t stop staring at him. No man on earth had a right to look this good. Refusing him would have required more effort than she could possibly muster. Oh, yes, she wanted to dance with him. Wanted to slide into his arms, be held by him…

Rather than attempt to respond verbally—at the rate she was going she hadn’t a clue what might actually come out of her mouth—she nodded and put her wineglass on a nearby table.

Seth led her onto the dance floor and turned her into his embrace. Naturally—fittingly—the band was playing a slow dance and she lifted her arms as he held her loosely. Justine was amazed at how well-suited they were physically. At five-ten and in heels, she was taller than most of the men, but Seth still had several inches on her. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in his clean, outdoor scent.

This was the first time she’d ever danced with him.

“You came alone?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

The music was mesmerizing and it was all she could do not to close her eyes and give herself completely over to it. That couldn’t happen, especially with Seth. She couldn’t allow herself to be trapped in the magic of the moment. She refused to let her guard down, certain that as soon as she did, Seth would ask her about Warren, or the engagement.

“I did, too,” he said after a minute. “Came here alone, I mean.”

He wrapped his hand around hers and brought it to his chest. Justine felt the solid, steady beat of his heart. It seemed to travel through her hand and the pulse in her wrist, directly to her own heart. His eyes held her, and with their steps in unison, this was the most sensual, seductive moment of her life.

When the love song ended, Seth released her. She moved away from him and clapped politely.

“Do you have a table yet?” Seth asked.

“Lana asked me to sit with her and Jay.”

“Well, Jay invited me to sit with him and Lana,” Seth told her, eyes twinkling.

So the Rothchilds were involved in a little matchmaking. Just now, it was very easy to forgive them.

“The buffet isn’t until nine.”

“I know,” she said, wondering if he was inviting her to dance again. If so, he didn’t need to ask. When the music started, they moved toward each other as though magnetically drawn.

Other than the few times they stopped to talk to friends, Justine and Seth danced every dance. Soon the buffet table was ready and a line of revelers straggled around the gym floor. Seth bought them each a glass of wine and sat next to her at the table for eight.

It wasn’t long before Justine fell into conversation with the others. Soon pictures of her classmates’ children were passed around and she found herself looking at the cherubic faces and listening to stories full of love and pride. Justine carried a small photograph of her newborn niece and showed it to Seth.

“James is married? When did this happen?”

“Earlier in the year. Isn’t Isabella beautiful?” Justine had made a firm decision not to be a mother, but as she studied the photographs she was handed, she felt an intense and unexpected longing. It would eventually pass; she recognized that, even as she struggled to deal with a slew of unwelcome emotions.

“Excuse me,” she said, getting to her feet. Instead of heading for the ladies’ room, Justine walked outside, out the front door, letting the cool air revive her. She leaned against the flagpole and closed her eyes, breathing in the night air and with it the return of her rational self. She wasn’t like those people back inside the school. She never had been. She was separate, different. Not above them, just not one of them. She’d known it in high school and felt it even more profoundly ten years out.

“Justine?” Seth joined her. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” She was quick to assure him that everything was fine, but he wasn’t fooled.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t explain to Seth, of all people, that she’d come outside in order to clear her head and put her life back in perspective.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” Seth commented.

“That’s ridiculous.” She turned away, but Seth caught her hand and drew her gently into his arms. She could have resisted at any time—but didn’t. She knew he intended to kiss her even before his lips claimed hers. This wasn’t their first kiss, but Justine had conveniently forgotten what this man was capable of doing to her resolve.

The effect of his kisses was like putting a match to lighter fluid, each one hotter and more explosive. “This isn’t a good idea,” Justine cried, tearing her mouth from his, her breathing labored.

“It’s a terrible idea,” Seth agreed, but it was clear he was teasing her as he brought his mouth to hers. He held her head between his hands, but Justine wasn’t struggling. She submitted fully to the kiss, starved for his touch.

“We have to stop,” she whimpered.

“The reunion…” he murmured.

“Yes…yes, we should get back.” Justine broke away and hid her face against his collarbone as her shoulders heaved.

Seth held still, arms around her waist, until his ragged breathing slowed.

“This really isn’t a good idea,” Justine finally said, and broke free from Seth entirely.

“Why isn’t it?”

“You aren’t going to like the answer,” she told him.

“What?” he asked. “I suppose you’re going to say you’ve decided to accept Warren’s proposal, after all?”

She attempted a smile, one that would show him she was confident in her decision. “Actually, I have.”

“You’re going to marry Warren Saget?” The question sounded incredulous.

She lowered her eyes and nodded.

Seth didn’t say anything for several seconds, then exhaled slowly. “If that’s your choice, I’m obliged to honor it. I only want the best for you, and if that’s Warren as your husband…I won’t try to change your mind.”

He spun on his heel and returned to the reunion alone.

Dan had been missing for over three months now, and as the weeks drifted by, Grace had become almost accustomed to living alone. She’d adopted a routine of sorts, which helped her forget that the man she’d been married to all those years had abandoned her and their two daughters. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t stayed long enough to see their first grandchild. Kelly had convinced herself that her father would be back before the baby was born, but Grace held out no such hope.

Roy McAfee continued to give her biweekly updates on his progress, but so far he had nothing of significance to report. There’d been no more sightings of Dan in town after that one time. Grace suspected there wouldn’t be. Her husband had come to deliver a message and Grace had received it loud and clear. He hadn’t been to the house again, either.

Thursday evening after she’d closed the library for the night, Grace walked toward her car, which she’d left near Waterfront Park. Concert on the Cove—a summertime music series sponsored by the downtown merchants—was on tonight. This was exactly the kind of social gathering Dan hated; in all the years the performances had been offered, Grace hadn’t attended a single one.

Families came with their children, senior citizens brought their own chairs, teenagers hung out in groups. Most people brought a take-out dinner. The blend of young and old drew the community together.

As she reached her car, Grace heard sixties rock-and-roll and sang along with an old Diana Ross hit. All at once it dawned on her that there was nothing to keep her away. There hadn’t really been a good reason in the past, and there wasn’t now.

Dan would never have told her she couldn’t attend, but she hadn’t wanted to go alone. She was alone now, with no reason to hurry home. She could stay or leave as she wished; it was entirely up to her. How odd that this insight should give her such a profound sense of freedom. It felt as if shackles had been unlocked and the weight she’d carried had fallen from her shoulders. She was free—free to attend the concert. Free to enjoy life without catering to Dan’s likes and dislikes. Free to do what she wanted.

Walking over to the park, Grace stopped long enough to pick up an order of chicken teriyaki from the Japanese restaurant across the street.

Most of the seating had already been taken. Grace stood and watched, delighting in the fact that so many people were enjoying the concert. A trio of women cavorted on the bandstand. Dressed in miniskirts, pageboy haircuts and pink feather boas, The Blondells performed the old Supremes hits from the ’60s, and Grace found herself smiling at their energy and high-spirited fun.

“Grace!” Charlotte Jefferson raised her arm in order to attract Grace’s attention. Her best friend’s mother sat on the outer edge of a semicircle of lawn chairs, with a blanket spread in front of her.

Grace made her way over to Charlotte, maneuvering slowly through the crowd.

“Sit here with me,” Charlotte invited. “I have something I want to discuss with you later, all right?”

“Sure.” Grateful for the invitation, Grace sat down on the blanket and leaned against one leg of Charlotte’s chair. Her back would start to ache soon, but she would enjoy this as long as she could.

“This is such good music,” Charlotte announced when the intermission was announced.

“It’s fabulous,” Grace agreed.

“You know, I was just thinking of you the other day,” Charlotte said. “I have something for you.”

“Me?”

“I talked it over with Olivia, and she thinks it’s a good idea. Exactly what you needed, she said.”

Grace was intrigued.

“A friend of mine, a good friend, has a wonderful companion, and well, she’s moving to a retirement complex and needs to find a home for Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?”

“Harry’s been such a loyal friend, and seeing that you’re alone, I thought…” Charlotte looked uncertain. “I did plan to ask you first, but as I recall you’ve had dogs in the past.”

Dan had loved his dogs, and throughout their marriage they’d had a number of family pets. Two years ago, their small cocker mix had died peacefully in his sleep and Dan had decided they wouldn’t have any more animals.

“What kind of dog is Buttercup?” she asked.

“A golden retriever.”

“I’d love a dog,” Grace said decisively. “I really would.”

Charlotte rubbed her hands together. “I’m so pleased. Olga’s been terribly worried about finding a good home for her dog. I knew you were the right person.”

“I’d be happy to take Buttercup over to visit Olga now and then, if that would put her mind at ease.”

“Oh, Grace, what a thoughtful gesture. Olga would be so appreciative.”

That weekend, the golden retriever became part of Grace’s life. She wasn’t sure how well the dog would adapt to a new environment, but the moment Grace brought her into the house, it was as if Buttercup recognized it as her home and prepared to settle in.

“Well, Buttercup,” she said, releasing her from the leash. “What do you think?”

With her tail wagging, the golden retriever examined each room, paused in the middle of the living room and then jumped into the old recliner that had been Dan’s chair. Dark eyes watching Grace, she rested her chin on her paws.

Grace couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. Of all the places for Buttercup to claim as her own, she’d chosen Dan’s chair. Somehow she’d instinctively known that space was available.

“We’re going to be good friends, aren’t we, Buttercup?” Grace murmured to the dog.

This, too, Buttercup appeared to understand.

Grace poured herself a cup of coffee, reached for a crossword puzzle book and settled down in the chair next to that of her newfound friend and companion.

Life continued without Dan. He’d apparently found someone else and—Grace smiled over at Buttercup—so had she.