204 Rosewood Lane (33 page)

“Tell me what?” She laughed. “Marge is leaving you?” She smiled at her own joke.

“Yes—sort of.” The laughter had drained from his eyes. “Marge and I are separating.”

Olivia couldn't hide her shock. Her silly, flippant remark had been correct. “Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah, I am, too.”

“Why are you—” She raised her hand. “No, it isn't necessary for me to know. I just didn't expect this.”

“Neither did I.” He returned his attention to the dishes. “It's been a pretty rough year for us, and we decided last week that it would be best all the way around if we took a break from each other.”

Olivia couldn't think of anything to say.

Reaching for a towel, Stan wiped his hands, keeping his eyes lowered. “This evening with James and Justine here, seeing both our children so happy and so much in love—I don't know, something happened.”

“Happened?”

“I'm not sure how to explain it. We're grandparents, Olivia, and we're about to become grandparents a second time.”

“Yes…”

“Sitting at the table with our children made me realize how badly I wish I could undo the past. I wish you and I were a couple again.”

“Oh, Stan…”

“I know, I know, I shouldn't have said that, but it's true. It hit me between the eyes at dinner. You and I always belonged together. I made a terrible mistake when I left you, and I can't help regretting it.”

A hundred times over the years, Olivia, too, had regretted the divorce. Had she been stronger, better able to deal with Jordan's death, she would have fought to keep the marriage, the family, together. But it was too late to recover something that now belonged to the past. Olivia recognized this, and in his heart, so did Stan. She was sure of it.

M
aryellen was impressed with The Lighthouse. Justine and Seth had done a first-class job with the renovations to The Captain's Galley. Her mother had attended the function with her and was sipping wine, talking to Olivia in a corner of the restaurant. Apparently they had a lot to talk about, because their heads had been together from the moment Grace arrived.

The hors d'oeuvres on their silver platters were laid out on long tables draped in white linen. Anticipating a feast, Maryellen had eaten sparingly all day and was famished. Taking a salad-sized china plate, she stood in the buffet line and chatted with other members of the Chamber of Commerce.

The expression might be clichéd, but Justine truly looked radiant, Maryellen thought as she watched the husband-and-wife team greet their guests. She and Justine had talked about their pregnancies and learned they were due to deliver a few weeks apart. They'd known each other their entire lives, but
other than the fact that their mothers were best friends, they didn't have a lot in common. For one thing, Maryellen was seven years older and in childhood that was significant. Justine had been in fifth grade when Maryellen graduated from high school.

In the years since, life had taken them in opposite directions. Only now that they were both pregnant and having their babies close together had they spent any significant time together. They regularly compared notes about their pregnancies and had recently taken a day to shop for baby furniture.

Maryellen sat at one of the newly upholstered booths and made small talk with Virginia Logan, who owned the bookstore two doors down from the Harbor Street Gallery. As they discussed the town council's motion to arrange stone planters along the main streets, Justine approached.

“Maryellen,” she said, holding out her hand. “And Virginia. I'm so glad you came.”

“This is lovely.”

“Yes, it is,” Virginia added.

“So, what do you think?” Justine asked them both. “Any changes you'd suggest?” Maryellen understood how important this venture was to the young couple. Still, Justine wanted their sincere opinions, not just flattery and compliments. That was the very reason they'd decided to hold this open house.

“Everything's fabulous,” Virginia said, reaching for a second crab puff. She popped it into her mouth and then closed her eyes to savor it. “The food is incredible.”

Maryellen nodded agreement.

“We have our chef to thank for that. He's wonderful.”

“Where did you find him?” Virginia asked.

“Word of mouth. He applied for the job, and Seth interviewed and hired him. I don't think we realized how
good he really is until now. Would either of you like a tour of the kitchen?”

Virginia shook her head. “Not me, but thanks, anyway.”

“I would,” Maryellen said, more to be polite than from any desire to study the internal workings of the restaurant.

With Maryellen following, Justine wove her way around the people sipping wine and sampling the wide assortment of offerings. As they passed the buffet table, Maryellen grabbed a napkin and a pickled asparagus spear. She'd never been fond of asparagus until this pregnancy. These days she couldn't get enough of it. She supposed there were worse cravings.

Justine held open the swinging door to the kitchen and they stepped aside as a waitress carried out a platter displaying an artichoke cheesecake, complete with a paper-thin phyllo crust. Maryellen had tried it earlier and marveled at the unexpected blend of flavors and textures.

The kitchen sparkled with polished steel, a bevy of pans suspended from a rack above the workspace. Two men in white with tall chef's caps were working efficiently, moving about the room in an almost synchronized fashion.

“Let me introduce you to our chef,” Justine said. “Jon, this is a good friend of mine, Maryellen Sherman. Maryellen, this is the chef I mentioned, Jon Bowman.” She paused, frowning. “Oh, wait. You two know each other from the gallery.”

If there'd been time, Maryellen would have turned tail and run. Instead she was forced to put a smile on her face and hold out her hand, praying Jon wouldn't say or do anything to embarrass her.

“Nice to see you again,” Jon said but his gaze rested directly on her midsection.

“Maryellen and I are both due in the same month,”
Justine said as if to cover for Jon's all-too-obvious attention to her pregnancy.

“I see.” He met Maryellen's eyes now, his own narrowed.

She was tempted to grab on to the counter because her legs felt as though they were about to give out. “You're a very good chef,” she murmured. “Um, the hors d'oeuvres are excellent.”

“Thank you,” he said grimly. Obviously he was no better at small talk than when she'd known him.

“Over here is Ross Porter, the pastry chef,” Justine said, leading her away from Jon. “We captured him from André's, too,” she said with a gloating smile. “Come and check out our walk-in refrigerator. Who'd have guessed a year ago that I could get so excited about something like that?” Justine laughed.

The rest of the tour was a blur as Maryellen obediently trailed Justine around the kitchen.

“About the staff…” Too late Maryellen realized it was impossible to form a coherent question.

“Oh, you mean the staff from the old Captain's Galley?” Justine asked. “We kept a number of the waitresses and one of the hostesses. You might know her, Cecilia Randall. Her father used to work as a bartender. He moved to California shortly before we bought the restaurant.”

Maryellen was only slightly acquainted with the staff from The Captain's Galley, but was pleased to hear that some of them had been retained. Her head was whirling. She'd be astonished if she managed to ask anything intelligible.

“You've done a marvelous job,” she said when they returned to the main part of the restaurant. That was the simple truth.

“Thank you,” Justine said as Seth joined her. He placed his arm around his wife's waist and smiled down at her.

Maryellen was impressed with the way they'd become a real couple, a partnership in every sense. Impressed and a little envious. Investing in a restaurant was a bold move, but they seemed determined to make a go of it.

As soon as she could, Maryellen made an excuse to leave. Her heart was pounding so loudly she could barely think as she drove home. She knew without his saying anything that Jon would want to talk to her, and soon. She wanted to reassure him that she wasn't going to ask for any kind of monetary support. He obviously had no interest in the baby, and as far as she was concerned, Jon Bowman was free and clear on all counts. Once he understood that, she was sure he'd rest easier.

Maryellen hadn't been home an hour when her doorbell rang. Already? It looked as though their confrontation would occur that very evening. She certainly wasn't expecting anyone else.

He stood like an avenging angel in the doorway of her small rental home, his face dark, staring down on her when she opened the door.

“I, uh, thought you might want to talk,” she said, letting him in.

He strode into the hallway. “You said there weren't any consequences from our night together.”

“I lied.” Her honesty seemed to unnerve him further.

“Why?”

“Because it was obvious that you were worried I might be pregnant. You wanted an easy out and I gave it to you, so you have no reason to be angry now.”

“Like hell!” he shouted.

“Please.” She gestured for him to sit down. “Yelling isn't going to help. I'm sorry this came as such a shock, I really am, but there's no need to be upset.”

He ignored her suggestion to take a seat. “No need to be
upset?
” he bellowed. “The hell there isn't. You're pregnant—I'm going to be a father.” His scowl challenged her to deny it.

“Yes, but…” Her voice trailed off. She had no intention of pretending he
wasn't
the father of her child.

“Don't you have anything to say?” He started to pace.

“Would you kindly stand still?” Even if he wasn't going to sit down, she had a sudden need to do so. Sinking onto the sofa, she placed her hands over her stomach. “Please…”

“Please what? Please leave?”

“No… It's probably best that you know the truth.”

“Probably?”
The word exploded out of his mouth.

Maryellen held up her hand. “Listen—you're upset and—”

“Upset?” he repeated. “That doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling. You don't have a clue about me.”

“A clue…?” She shook her head. “Don't bother. It doesn't really matter.”

“What matters is my baby,” Jon insisted.

“Would you stop pacing? You're making me dizzy.”

“That's too bad, because if I stop I might do something I regret.”

“Is that a threat, Jon?” She hadn't thought of him as violent, but she'd never seen him this out of control.

“A threat?” He stared at her as though he'd taken as many shocks from her as he could stand. “No, Maryellen, that isn't a threat.” Then, as if he'd exhausted every ounce of energy he possessed, he collapsed into a chair.

“I apologize for this. I guess you have a right to know.”

“Damn straight I do.”

She was prepared to deal with his anger. It was what she'd expected and frankly what she deserved. If he'd give her a
moment, she'd reassure him, tell him she didn't need his support, and then they could both continue with their lives.

“I don't want you to worry about anything,” Maryellen told him. “This is
my
baby.”

He frowned. “
Your
baby? Yeah—and mine.”

“Jon, I don't require a thing from you. As far as I'm concerned, you're not part of this child's life. I intend to raise the baby on my own.”

“Oh, no, you don't!”

“Now what?” she cried. She thought this was what he'd come to hear. She was relieving him of all obligations.

“I
want
to be part of my child's life.”

“That's impossible!”

“The hell it is.” He was back on his feet, fists clenched.

Maryellen got to her feet, too. “I think you should go.”

“We'll see about that,” he said and stormed out the door, leaving Maryellen shaken and unsure.

Why, oh, why did everything have to be so complicated? It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Yes, learning about the pregnancy must have been distressing to Jon, but once he knew, she assumed he'd feel grateful to be released from any responsibility.

Instead he was making demands—demands she wasn't prepared to consider.

 

This had to be one of the proudest moments of Jack Griffin's life. He stood with his son and Shelly at Colchester Park, which overlooked Puget Sound. The panoramic view of the Seattle skyline was breathtaking. The promise of summer was in the air; tulips lined the flowerbeds and fifty-foot-tall fir trees stood like sentries, keeping watch over all who entered the park.

Standing close to the water with her back to Puget Sound, Olivia faced the young couple, while Jack held Tedd and Todd in his arms, as proud as any grandfather had a right to be. Fortunately, the babies were fast asleep. At three months, they'd both filled out nicely and although they were identical, Jack could detect differences between them. Tedd was more active than his brother and always fell asleep last. Todd seemed content with his thumb, while Tedd preferred his pacifier. Both boys strongly reminded him of Eric as an infant, and Jack saw his son over and over again in his two grandchildren.

Jack's ex-wife hadn't been able to make the wedding. He assumed Vicki had stayed away to avoid seeing him. Bob Beldon, his AA sponsor, suggested Jack held too high an opinion of his importance to Vicki, but Jack was fairly confident he'd read his ex correctly. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, and what little relationship they'd had at the time of the divorce quickly disintegrated when he continued drinking. Alcohol had consumed his life for the next several years.

Closing his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate on the marriage vows as Eric repeated them.
Love and honor.
Jack's heart swelled with love for his son, his grandsons, his daughter-in-law—and for Judge Olivia Lockhart. Getting to know her, spending time with her, had changed his life and all for the better.

Shelly repeated her vows and then Eric's best man, a friend from work named Bill Jamison, handed him the diamond ring, which Eric slipped on Shelly's hand.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Olivia said, and her voice echoed through the park.

In the next moment Eric and Shelly were kissing while Olivia and the friends who'd stood up with them looked on, applauding. Several people, including Shelly's maid of honor, Karen Morrison, took photographs.

With his arm around Shelly, Eric turned to Jack. “I'll bet you wondered if you'd ever see this day.”

“You mean you and Shelly married, or holding my grandchildren in my arms?” It seemed to Jack he was about as blessed as any man could be, despite his faults and his past.

“Both,” his son answered. Eric took Tedd out of Jack's arms and Shelly reached for Todd. Soon both infants were strapped into their carriers, and everyone was ready to depart.

“Thank you, Olivia,” Eric said.

“Yes, thank you so much.” Shelly impulsively hugged her and then added, “For everything. You, too, Jack.”

“We'd better head for the airport if you're going to make your flight,” Bill said. He was the most responsible of the group, Jack noted, the one who kept them all on schedule.

“I hate to get married and rush away like this,” Eric said.

Jack and Olivia walked them to the parking lot. “Go,” Jack told his son and they hugged one last time. “But call me tomorrow, you hear?”