Читать книгу Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection - Debbie Macomber - Страница 27

Olivia felt good. Better than good. She felt confident, successful, at the height of her powers. She’d put in a fabulous day in court, and, since summer was now apparently in full bloom, she intended to enjoy what remained of her afternoon.

This was perfect weather for sitting at a café along the waterfront and enjoying a bottle of wine and some delectable Hood Canal shrimp. She could think of no one she’d enjoy doing that with more than Jack Griffin.

He’d proved to be delightful company. In the three weeks since the Fourth of July picnic, they’d attended a political rally, on which Jack had written an article. Then she’d tagged along while he interviewed the lady who crocheted beautiful tablecloths for the Saturday Farmers’ Market. That article had appeared in Wednesday’s edition of the Cedar Cove Chronicle. Last Friday night, Jack had taken her to dinner at Willcox House, a B-and-B in Seabeck that Bob and Peggy Beldon had recommended. The house boasted a room Clark Gable had once stayed in, and the food was incredible. Once again, Jack was writing an article. It was high time they went out just for pleasure, she decided, instead of combining it with business.

Leaning back in her office chair, she reached for the phone and punched out his number. “Hi,” she said when he picked up.

“Hi, yourself. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her.

“I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I promise you it will be.” Olivia loved the banter between them.

Jack chuckled. “I can hardly wait. What do you have in mind?”

“Close your eyes,” she whispered seductively. “Think of sitting out on the Cove.”

“Am I with anyone?” he interrupted.

“Naturally. You’re with me.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Jack!”

“Well, it’s important.”

She sighed in mock annoyance. The teasing was all part of the Jack she enjoyed most. “Okay. I’ve got on a sleeveless top and walking shorts, a big sun hat and dark glasses.”

“I like you in dark glasses. They make you look mysterious.”

She laughed; there wasn’t a thing mysterious about her—certainly not her growing attraction to him.

“Next, consider the background music.”

“Dire Straits? Guns n’ Roses? Red Hot Chili Peppers?”

“No,” she said with a beleaguered sigh. “I was thinking more along the lines of Neil Diamond, Barry Manilow, Henry Mancini.”

“Barry Manilow? Please, not Barry Manilow.”

“I happen to like Barry Manilow,” she chided.

Now it was his turn to sigh. “I don’t know if there’s hope for this relationship.”

“All right, we’ll compromise on the music.”

“If you like Manilow, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Okay, Eric Clapton,” she suggested.

“Bob Dylan’s better. Agreed?”

“All right. May I continue?”

“Go ahead,” he urged, as if she’d been the one holding up the proceedings.

“We’re together on the Cove watching the sun set, music is playing softly in the background and we’re sipping glasses of wine.” She hesitated, certain he was about to launch into a discussion regarding the wine. “Do we need to argue about the wine, too?”

“No,” he assured her, “you choose.”

“All right. A nice fruity Gewürztraminer.”

“Hmm. Isn’t that a little sweet? Are you sure you wouldn’t be interested in something—”

“I thought we weren’t going to argue about the wine. You can drink what you want and I’ll drink what I want.”

“Fine with me.” He was certainly amicable all of a sudden.

“A waiter appears with a menu,” she went on.

“If the menu’s got tassels, I can’t afford to eat there.”

“No tassels.”

“Good.” Jack said immediately. “Now, did the waiter bring the bread basket yet? I’m getting hungry.”

“Don’t rush him, we’re still enjoying our wine.”

“While you’re drinking the wine, I want the warm bread and butter.”

“You’re making this difficult, Jack.”

“Okay, okay, continue, but I should tell you I worked through lunch today, so if you’re going to start listing the specials of the day, I’ll have to make a run to the candy machine.”

Olivia heard drawers opening and closing. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think? I’m looking for something to eat.” A grumbling sound followed his explanation. “The best I could come up with was a roll of Tums.”

“Poor baby. I guess that means you don’t want to hear about the seafood fettuccini, dripping with spicy shrimp, seared scallops and bits of lobster, stirred together in a creamy Alfredo sauce.”

“You are a cruel woman, Olivia Lockhart.”

Olivia laughed delightedly. “You just wait until I show you how cruel I can be.”

Jack sucked in his breath. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

Olivia growled.

“When, where and how long will it take me to get there?”

“Tonight at seven.”

He hesitated. “I…can’t.”

“Six?”

“That won’t work, either.”

“All right, eight, but that’s really kind of late for me.”

“What about tomorrow night?” Jack asked.

“Can’t. I’ve got a judicial committee meeting. Why can’t you go to dinner tonight?”

“I just can’t.”

He was certainly being cryptic about it. “Jack, have you got another date?” she asked, half laughing as though it was a joke. Neither of them had made any promises. He was free to date someone else, just as she was. But she hadn’t.

He paused before answering. “Not exactly,” he said.

“Not exactly,” she echoed. What the hell did that mean? “Are you doing something illegal?” she asked.

“No.”

“Just secretive,” she muttered under her breath.

Again the pause. “If you want to put it that way.”

Olivia hated secrets. “I see,” she said, not bothering to hide her disappointment.

“Olivia, I’m sorry. I’d love to have dinner with you, but you’ll have to choose some other night.”

Olivia was a woman whose life was open to scrutiny; she disliked the way he chose to keep parts of his life hidden. If he had some dark secret, she’d rather know now.

“Come on, honey, it’s not that big a deal, is it?”

Honey. Now she was his honey.

“Another evening, all right?”

“No,” she said softly but with conviction. “It isn’t all right.”

“Let me make sure I’m getting this,” Jack said after a long pulsing silence. “You’re angry because I can’t go to dinner with you at the drop of a hat.”

“No, Jack, that’s not it at all.” She straightened in her chair. “Listen, I’m sorry. It seems I’ve been reading more into our relationship than warranted—”

“Olivia…”

“No, please, I understand.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” she countered. He wanted everything on his terms, which meant that any relationship could only be a surface one. He had his secrets, and she was just supposed to overlook that.

“Olivia…”

“I’m sorry you can’t make it for dinner,” she said, interrupting him a second time. “We’ll do it another night.” Maybe ten years from now.

“Don’t hang up that phone!” Jack shouted.

She was too stunned to react.

“I know what you’re going to do. The next time I call and suggest we get together, you’ll have a reason you can’t. The time after that, it’ll be the same, until I’ve got the message. Dammit, Olivia, I won’t let that happen.”

“Then I’ll be up front with it. Jack, I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue seeing each other.”

“Why? Because I can’t go to dinner with you tonight?”

“No,” she said swiftly. “Because I was married to a man who chose to keep secrets from me. I’m not willing to get involved with anyone who can’t be open and honest.”

Silence.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” she pressed. “You’re a man with secrets.”

It took him forever to answer. “If it gives you any pleasure, then I’ll say it. You’re right—I have my secrets.”

He replaced the receiver, and Olivia listened to the buzz droning in her ear. Jack should’ve known her better than that. She derived no pleasure from being right.

The instant Grace pulled into the driveway, Buttercup bounded out the doggie door at the back of the house and raced to her side.

“Hello, girl,” Grace said as she stepped out of the car. She leaned down and scratched the dog’s ears, then the two of them walked to the mailbox to collect the day’s offerings.

Along with a couple of magazines and a few odd bills, Grace got the Bremerton Sun.

“Are you ready for your dinner?” she asked Buttercup, unlocking the door that led to the kitchen.

The golden retriever dutifully walked to her water bowl and lapped up a drink, then waited patiently while Grace opened the closet door and brought out the large bag of dog food. She filled the dog’s dish, then settled down to glance at the mail.

Nothing important.

She set the magazines on the table and as she did so, noticed that the message light was flashing.

“Grace, it’s Roy McAfee. Give me a call when you get home.”

Dan.

Roy must have learned something about Dan. Her hand trembled as she looked up Roy’s number and immediately returned the call.

Corrie, Roy’s wife and assistant, connected her right away.

“Roy, this is Grace Sherman. Have you located Dan?”

“No, but I got the report from the Assets Check and thought you might be interested in what I found out.”

After running into nothing but dead ends, Roy had suggested they request a computer check for assets, but Grace had balked at forking over the extra two-hundred-dollar fee required for the search. Learning that Dan held title to a piece of land wasn’t going to help her locate him. In a community property state, any bank records would be open to her without cost.

“So—anything interesting?”

“Yup. The report listed a license application Dan made last June.”

“A year ago.”

“That’s right. You didn’t tell me you two owned a travel trailer.”

“We don’t.”

“According to state records, Daniel Clayton Sherman residing at 204 Rosewood Lane, Cedar Cove, Washington, applied for a license for a travel trailer.”

“When?” Grace asked. “Exactly when?”

“June sixteenth of last year.”

The date was meaningless, and Grace felt numb. “I…I don’t know about any travel trailer.”

“I called the private party who sold it to him and discovered he paid cash. It’s a twenty-four footer. The other person wasn’t likely to forget, since Dan arrived with the money in fresh one-hundred-dollar bills.”

“How much?”

“According to the seller, thirteen thousand dollars.”

“Cash?” They didn’t have thirteen thousand dollars in cash. Any extra money had been invested. Nearly everything they’d managed to save over the years was in stocks and bonds.

“The man made quite a point of telling me it was all one-hundred-dollar bills. Actually, he was quite shaken when he was handed that much cash.”

“Where would Dan get that kind of money?”

“I can’t answer that,” Roy told her.

Neither could she. “Dan couldn’t have taken out an equity loan without my knowing, could he?”

“He didn’t,” Roy said. “Not according to the bank records I have.”

And surely she would’ve received some sort of statement for any other kind of loan.

“This doesn’t make sense.” But then, very little of what Dan had done in the last year was logical.

“So you don’t know anything about this travel trailer?”

“Not a thing. Do you think Dan’s traveling around the country?” she asked, searching desperately for answers.

“I really don’t know. Haven’t come across any evidence of that—no credit card charges, for instance. None in his name, anyway.”

“Then what’s he using for money?”

“If he had thirteen thousand dollars in cash you knew nothing about, there’s no way of knowing how much money he had squirreled away.”

“Where could he have kept this money?”

“Do you have a safety-deposit box?” Roy answered her question with his own.

“Yes…no. I don’t know anymore.” They did have a box at some point, but she hadn’t seen the renewal application in years.

“Tell me this,” Roy said. “Who brought in the mail every day?”

“Dan.”

“That’s what I thought. Another possibility is that Dan has a post office box you know nothing about.”

All the secrets Dan had kept from her. Grace didn’t know how she could have lived with him for more than thirty years and not known the man who was her husband.

“The report didn’t show a safety-deposit box?” she asked.

“No, but if Dan has one strictly in his name, the bank isn’t legally obligated to report it. Some banks will as a matter of course, and others only if a court order is issued.”

“Will we need a court order?”

“We’ll face that when we come to it.”

“All right.”

As if she understood that her new mistress was feeling anxious, Buttercup walked over to the phone and stood next to Grace. She leaned down and stroked the dog’s head, which calmed both of them.

She spoke with Roy for a few more minutes. When she hung up, Grace experienced a new sensation. Considering the range of emotions she’d already become familiar with, she wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Since Dan’s disappearance, she’d felt disbelief, shock, grief and outrage. Lately she’d discovered a certain peace that came with resignation and acceptance. Roy’s latest news didn’t infuriate her. Instead, she was left feeling stupid.

Sitting at the table, she leafed through the latest issue of Sunset Magazine. Something must be wrong with her, she mused. Her life was falling apart and she was reading a chicken enchilada recipe.

The phone rang and for an instant Grace hesitated, uncertain she wanted to talk to anyone. But it was bound to be one of her daughters, and if she ignored the call they’d both worry.

“Hi, Mom.”

Grace was right. “Hello, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

“Pregnant,” Kelly complained. “Six weeks to go.”

The time had passed quickly for Grace, but she doubted her daughter would feel that way.

“Any news on Dad?”

Grace was always astonished by the way her daughters seemed to sense any new developments regarding Dan.

“Mom?” Kelly pressed.

“Can you get your sister on three-way calling?” Kelly had the option on her phone, whereas Grace didn’t.

“You learned something?”

“Get Maryellen on the line and I’ll tell you both at the same time.”

“Okay.” Grace was accustomed to the procedure. She was put on hold while Kelly dialed her sister’s phone number, and then once Maryellen was connected, Grace would be able to speak to both her daughters at once. She closed her eyes, her mind spinning as she waited.

In the beginning, Grace had wanted to protect her children from what Dan had done. Her reaction had been instinctive, but it’d also been wrong. Maryellen and Kelly were entitled to know. Furthermore, they might be able to provide an answer. For all Grace knew, Dan might have said something to one of the girls that would give her—or Roy McAfee—some kind of clue.

“We’re both here,” Kelly said anxiously.

“Are you all right, Mom?” Maryellen asked.

“No.” It was time for honesty. “Roy discovered that your father purchased a twenty-four-foot travel trailer last year.”

“Dad bought a trailer?” The question came from Kelly.

“Where did he keep it?”

That was a question Grace hadn’t thought to ask. “I don’t know, but I’m discovering that I knew very little about your father.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Again it was Kelly who asked. Kelly who was so close to her father and so confident he’d return before her baby was born.

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “He paid cash for the trailer.”

“How much?” Maryellen asked.

“Thirteen thousand,” Grace said. “In fresh one-hundred-dollar bills.”

Kelly gasped.

Maryellen said nothing.

“I don’t have a clue where he got that much money,” Grace told her daughters. It was as much a mystery as his disappearance.

“Mom, do you think the other woman might have bought the trailer for him?” Maryellen asked softly.

“Then why not register it in her name?”

“Maybe she wanted you to find out about it,” Maryellen suggested.

“Stop it!” Kelly shouted. “There is no other woman. Dad wouldn’t do that.”

“Grow up,” Maryellen said sharply. “When are you going to quit looking at Dad like he’s some kind of saint? He didn’t just leave Mom, you know. He walked out on you and me, too.”

“Don’t say that,” Kelly cried, breaking into huge sobs. “I don’t believe it. I’ll never believe it.”

“Girls, please…” Grace felt close to tears herself.

“Do you still think Dad’s going to magically reappear before your baby’s born?” Maryellen asked. “Get a grip! He doesn’t care about either one of us.”

“Maryellen, stop.” Grace refused to allow her older daughter to continue. This was hard enough without the two of them turning against each other.

An awkward moment passed, then Maryellen whispered, “I’m sorry, Kelly. I was upset and I took it out on you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Kelly said. “For you and Mom. One day we’re all going to discover the truth about Dad. I don’t know why he’s doing this or where he is, but there’s a perfectly logical explanation for his disappearance.”

Her daughter had said this many times before, and Grace let her say it again. Neither she nor Maryellen challenged what they both saw as a fantasy. They understood that Kelly needed to believe it.

Justine had been downright miserable since the reunion. She’d announced to Seth that she intended to marry Warren, but she hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it to Warren himself.

Friday night, Warren planned to take her to dinner at D.D.’s on the Cove, and she thought she’d tell him then, as long as he understood she wanted a lengthy engagement. Eventually they’d ease their way into marriage.

“You look fabulous,” Warren said, kissing her cheek when he picked her up after work. The bank was open until six on Friday nights and after a ten-hour day, Justine was tired. Warren might think she looked good, but that wasn’t how she felt.

Because they were close to D.D.’s, Justine suggested they walk over to the waterfront restaurant.

“Let’s drive.”

It seemed ridiculous to drive to a restaurant less than two blocks from the bank, but Justine didn’t want to start the evening with an argument.

Warren held open the car door for her and she discovered a small wrapped package on the passenger seat. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Open it and see.”

“Not another gift. Warren, please, this isn’t necessary.”

“Says who?” he joked. “It’s the only way I can prove to you that I’ll be a generous husband.”

“Warren.”

“All right, all right, no pressure.” Chuckling, he hurried around to the driver’s side.

Justine waited until he was seated before she opened the jeweler’s box. Inside was an oblong-shaped black pearl in a gold oyster clasp; it was suspended from a fine gold chain. The pearl was exquisite.

“A friend of mine picked that up for me in the South Pacific,” he told her.

“It’s lovely.”

“You deserve to wear diamonds and pearls.”

“Oh, Warren.”

“Come on,” he said, grinning. “Let’s get to the restaurant. I could use a drink.”

Justine enjoyed a glass of wine now and then, but she wasn’t a heavy drinker. Warren often overindulged and when he did, she drove them both home and spent the night in his spare room. She knew what people thought and was content to let their assumption stand. Warren appreciated her discretion. Evenings of this kind happened often enough that she kept a spare set of clothes at his house.

The parking lot at D.D.’s was already almost full, and they were fortunate to find a space. Instead of requesting a table for dinner, Warren led her into the cocktail lounge, where they sat at a circular booth overlooking the water.

Warren had two double scotches in quick succession. He’d just ordered his third when Seth Gunderson walked casually into the lounge.

Justine’s shocked gaze clashed with his. She’d had no idea he was still in town. The last place she’d expected to run into him was here.

Seth looked slowly from Justine to Warren, a disgusted expression on his face.

Since it would be rude to ignore Seth completely, she attempted a smile. He acknowledged her briefly by inclining his head in her direction, then made for the bar. He took a seat with his back to her.

“What’s wrong?” Warren asked.

“Nothing,” she assured him, staring out over the waterfront and the marina.

“Who’s he?” Warren asked, glancing at Seth and then, as if he’d figured it out, he reached for his drink and tossed it down in one swallow. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Warren. I’m with you, not Seth.” Agreeing to marry Warren right then and there would reassure him, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

“You want him, though. Don’t you?”

“Of course not.” How easily the lie came to her lips.

“Who do you think you’re kidding?” Warren said scornfully. “It’s written all over both of you.”

“That’s not true.” She repulsed Seth. Everything he did told her as much. He sat at the bar with his back to her, letting her know that he couldn’t bear the sight of her.

“You can’t take your eyes off him,” Warren commented and oddly, he sounded amused.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m going to clear the air here and now.”

“No! Warren, no.” She tried to grab his arm as he slid out of the booth, but he was too fast for her.

Horrified, Justine watched as Warren walked over to the bar. She could only speculate about what he said, but he appeared to be inviting Seth to join them. Seth declined, and obviously Warren persisted, encouraging him. Justine wanted to crawl under the table when Seth finally gave in, picked up his beer and followed Warren back to their booth.

“Sit down,” Warren said jovially.

Seth hesitated. The option was to sit next to Warren or to slide into the booth beside her. He chose to sit by her, so she was trapped between the two men. She noticed that Seth was as far removed from her as he could possibly be and still remain in the booth. Warren moved closer to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

“I understand you two know each other from high school.”

Seth didn’t seem too interested in answering.

“We were friends even before that,” she murmured.

“Did you enjoy the reunion?” Warren asked, directing his question to Seth.

“Parts of it.” His gaze burned into Justine’s. “I understand congratulations are in order. Justine told me she’s agreed to be your wife.”

Warren’s arm tightened around her shoulders, as if to tell her how pleased he was. Then—pretending he knew—he said expansively, “That’s right. As you can imagine, I’m a happy man.” He threw Justine a bold smile.

“A lucky one,” Seth added without emotion.

“But not a selfish one,” Warren said, not quite under his breath.

Justine pressed her hand against his arm, fearing what he seemed about to say.

“What do you mean?”

“Warren, I think it’s time we had dinner,” Justine said, eager to end this conversation.

“Not quite yet.”

“Warren, please.”

“In a minute,” he said a little more firmly. “I can see what’s happening between you two,” Warren went on.

“Not a damn thing, I can assure you,” Seth informed him stiffly.

“Maybe. I’m not here to judge. I know how Justine feels about you, Gunderson. She’s got the hots for you.”

“Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

Seth frowned, his face darkening.

“You aren’t any better at hiding your feelings than she is,” Warren continued. “Well, more power to you.”

“Justine’s already agreed to marry you,” Seth reminded him.

“True, but we both know she’s more woman than an old guy like me can handle.”

“Oh, God.” Never in all her life had Justine been so humiliated, so embarrassed. She tried to leave the booth, but with Warren on one side and Seth on the other, she couldn’t escape.

Seth leapt out of the booth as if it’d suddenly caught fire. “I’ve heard enough of this conversation to know I’m unwilling to listen to any more.”

“Don’t be hasty,” Warren said with a congenial laugh. “I’m just trying to show you both how open-minded I am. If you want Justine, you can have her with my blessing.”

Seth’s earlier look of contempt didn’t compare to the one he cast Justine now. Contempt…and pity.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said, slamming down his beer. “I have no interest in Justine.” Then he walked out of the lounge, not sparing her so much as a backward glance.