Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 (11 page)

S
itting with the other ladies at the Henry M. Jackson Senior Center, Charlotte Rhodes knitted with furious speed. Her friends chatted, but Charlotte's mind was moving as fast as her hands.

“Charlotte,” Helen Shelton said. “You look like you're a thousand miles away.”

“Oh…” she murmured with a start. She hadn't been listening to her friends' conversation, but the fact that they'd realized it was embarrassing. She smiled apologetically at Helen, who was a favorite of hers and another expert knitter. She was a widow, living in a lovely duplex on Poppy Lane; the two women had much in common and spent many an afternoon knitting and exchanging stories.

But at the moment Charlotte was worrying about her son and his recent move to Cedar Cove. On the surface, Will's decision to retire in Washington seemed logical, but knowing what she did, Charlotte had good reason to be suspicious.

“Bess asked if you'd check her knitting,” Helen said. “I can't quite figure out what she's done wrong.”

“Of course.” Charlotte set her own knitting aside and studied her friend's half-finished sock. She'd discovered many an easy fix in sixty years of working with needles and yarn. When people came to her with knitting difficulties, her initial advice was always the same:
Read the pattern.
If the directions weren't clear the first time, then read them again.

She glanced at the sock pattern, which had been passed around among the knitters and looked a little the worse for wear. She found Bess's mistake quickly enough and repaired it, using a crochet hook to pick up a dropped stitch.

The ladies at this table were her dearest friends in the world, and yet Charlotte couldn't divulge her troubles to them. That just wasn't done by most women of her generation. Family problems stayed inside the family. They were not to be discussed with outsiders, and that included one's very closest friends.

She envied Olivia and Grace their friendship. There wasn't anything those two couldn't and didn't talk about. But Charlotte couldn't share her disappointment in her oldest child with anyone other than her husband. Ben might not be Will's father but he was part of her family now.

How could she tell her friends that her only son had a weak character? How could she reveal to these women that Will had dishonored his wedding vows? Not once, but repeatedly. His ex-wife, Georgia, had kept this a secret for as long as she could and then the poor girl couldn't take it anymore. Charlotte didn't blame her. If Clyde had been alive, she knew he'd be embarrassed and ashamed by Will's behavior and would no doubt have a few things to say to his son. Maybe it was just as well that Clyde had gone on to his heavenly reward rather than suffer such disillusionment about his only son.

Ben was at home when she returned from the knitters' group. He opened the front door as she approached the steps, taking them slowly and one at a time.

“You look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said, taking the bag from her hand and steering her into the house. Charlotte went automatically to the kitchen.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked.

“If conversation goes along with that tea.”

Charlotte wasn't sure she could talk; her throat felt like it was closing. Swallowing hard, she nodded because she
needed
to talk, needed to share the feelings that pressed on her so heavily.

Ben collected the cups and saucers while she boiled water and measured out tea leaves. Soon they were sitting at the kitchen table across from each other but before she could pour the tea, he reached for her hand.

“Is it Will?” he asked.

“Where is he? Do you know?”

Ben shrugged. “He left a couple of hours ago. Said he was meeting with a rental agent to look at apartments.”

“Did he say where he was hoping to move?”

“He told me he'd like to find an apartment near us, in the downtown area.”

“I was afraid of that,” she said starkly.

“Why?” Ben asked, sounding genuinely taken aback. “It seemed thoughtful of him to want to be close by. In case either of us needs him, he said.”

“Hogwash,” Charlotte sputtered.

Ben's eyes widened at her outburst.

“I know my son,” she said, “and his wanting to be downtown has nothing to do with any concern for our well-being.” Her hand shook as she filled their teacups. “We aren't the
only
ones nearby,” she muttered, then pressed her lips together in consternation.

Ben frowned, as if he didn't understand.

“It's Grace,” she said, setting the teapot back on the table.

“Do you seriously think he's still hung up on Grace?” Ben asked. He seemed to find it far-fetched that Will would go to such extremes. “He knows she's married to Cliff, doesn't he?”

“Of course he does. But a little thing like a wedding ring hasn't stopped him in the past,” she said. A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “I know my son,” she said again. “He's highly competitive. That's one of the reasons he was such a success in the corporate world.”

“In other words, he doesn't like to lose.”

“He detests it.” Charlotte could list plenty of examples from her son's youth but resisted. “He's going to move downtown and in a week or two he's going to get a library card.”

“Because of Grace…”

“For no other reason,” she elaborated. “He hasn't felt a need for one in the last thirty-five years. Now, however, it's going to be a necessary part of his relocation. Mark my words,” she added, tapping her fingers rhythmically on the table.

“It's too late as far as Grace is concerned,” Ben said. “She's happily married.”

“I know.” And Charlotte felt it was her duty to see that nothing ruined Grace's happiness. Grace was like a second daughter to her. Charlotte wasn't planning to sit idly by and allow her own son to destroy Grace's life. He wouldn't succeed in seducing her again, but he was perfectly capable of interfering in her marriage, spreading innuendo and suspicion.

“Then why are you so worried?”

Before she could answer, the front door opened. In walked Will, looking carefree and decidedly pleased with himself. His eyes brightened and he smiled as he entered the kitchen. “I'm back,” he announced. “And I'd love a cup of tea.”

“How'd it go?” Charlotte asked. She stood automatically to get him a cup and was struck by what a handsome man he was, even more handsome at sixty than he'd been as a young man. He was tall and well-built, physically fit. He had a sense of style, too; from the time he was a teenager he'd taken care with his clothes. She remembered that he'd always been far more fashion-conscious than his peers. Recently his hair had begun to gray at the temples, giving him a distinguished look. Considering his appearance and his well-developed charm, it was little wonder that women had fallen at his feet. Even sensible women, like Grace.

“I found a small two-bedroom unit right off Harbor Street,” Will told them triumphantly.

“Off…Harbor Street?”

“On the water,” he said as she handed him his tea.

Charlotte knew of only one apartment complex on the waterfront. “I haven't seen a rental sign there,” she said, none too pleased. Naturally Will had chosen an apartment that was practically next door to the library.

“I'm subletting the unit,” he explained. “I'd prefer a more upscale place, but this will do for now.”

Charlotte caught Ben's eye. He nodded, got up and politely excused himself.

She waited until he'd left the room, then confronted her son. “This doesn't happen to be Linnette McAfee's apartment, does it?”

“It sure does.” He sounded surprised. “How did you know?”

“I spoke with her mother,” Charlotte told him. “Corrie hates the idea of her daughter moving away from Cedar Cove.” But Linnette was determined to leave, whether the apartment was rented or not.

“Well, her loss is my gain,” Will said, as though it was a joke. “I should be able to move in sometime next week.”

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order,” she managed to mumble.

“I'll be out of your hair but I'll still be around,” Will told his mother.

Charlotte didn't comment. Instead she stood and carried her untouched tea to the sink. Keeping her back to her son, she attempted to control her reactions. Turning to face him, she tried to gauge his intentions, troubled by the fact that she thought the worst of her only son.

“You're sure you're doing the right thing?” she asked tentatively.

Will wore a perplexed expression. “Of course I'm sure. Although you're both healthy, I feel it's my duty to be close by in case you need me.”

“Olivia and Jack are less than two miles away.”

For the first time Will seemed to notice that Ben had left the room. If he was looking to his stepfather for support, Ben wasn't there to give it to him.

“You mean you'd rather I wasn't living in Cedar Cove?” Will asked bluntly.

“I wouldn't go so far as to say that,” Charlotte told him. Will was, after all, her son and she was happy to have him there—as long as his intentions were honorable.

“Then what's the problem?” he asked, gesturing with his hands, palms up.

“The problem is Grace Harding.”

“Grace?” Will repeated her name with a frown. “What's Grace got to do with any of this?” Had she not known him so well, Charlotte might have questioned her own perceptions.

“I know what you did,” she said, refusing to hide her awareness of his behavior. She'd never spoken of it before, but Will needed to realize he hadn't deceived
everyone.
“That's all I'm going to say on the matter.”

Will's frown deepened. “I suppose Olivia couldn't wait to come tattling,” he muttered, anger shadowing his face.

“Hardly. I surmised what went on between the two of you all by myself.”

Will exhaled slowly. “Let me assure you, Mother, that your concerns are groundless. I'm delighted for Grace and…her husband. I wish them the very best. Grace made her choice and while I wish she'd chosen to marry me—”

“Marry you!” Charlotte exploded. “You were married to Georgia at the time.”

“We were planning to divorce,” he said with perfect calm.

Charlotte knew he was lying. “Oh, Will,” she whispered, her heart aching. “Do you honestly believe you can lie to me so easily? I'm your mother. I
know
you.”

Will had never liked being confronted, least of all by her. He bit his lip, the same way he had as a boy. “Let me assure you, Mother, I am not interested in getting involved with Grace. I'm sincere about that. Like I said, I wish her and Cliff happiness. Right or wrong, I lost her and I accept that. I'll step aside.”

“Do you mean it?” Charlotte asked, meeting his eyes.

Will grinned, and he certainly didn't look like a man who'd deceive his own mother.

“Scout's honor.” He held his arms open and when she moved into his embrace, he hugged her gently.

He disappeared again soon afterward without mentioning where he was going. Ben was in the living room reading in his recliner, with Harry, her guard cat, on his lap.

“Feel better?” he asked when she joined him.

“I…think so. I couldn't go another day without speaking my mind. I had to tell Will how unhappy I am about his behavior.”

Ben set aside his book, the memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, draping it over the arm of his chair. “Don't forget, I know what it's like to have children who disappoint you. You aren't alone in that, my dear.”

He spoke from experience. Ben's son David had constant money problems and often came to his father seeking financial assistance. Wisely Ben had made it a policy not to give his son any loans until he'd paid off the money he'd already borrowed.

“In some ways I wish the problem with Will was money,” she said. “He asked me to trust his intentions toward Grace. Really, I didn't have any choice but to tell him I would.”

“I agree,” Ben said, stroking Harry's fur from ears to tail. The cat purred with pleasure. “We'll have to wait and see.”

“Yes, but what do I do if he goes against his word?” Much as she wanted to believe that Will would do the honorable thing, deep down she suspected he wouldn't.

“Charlotte, my love,” Ben said. “Don't borrow trouble. Each day brings enough as it is. Take him at his word until you have reason to doubt him. Then and only then, confront him.”

She nodded. “In other words, I shouldn't cross that bridge until I come to it—and other assorted clichés.”

Ben stretched out his hand. “Exactly,” he said, smiling widely.

Charlotte walked over to her husband's chair and slipped her arm around his shoulders. “I'm so glad I married you. You're a man of wisdom, Mr. Rhodes.”

Ben kissed her fingers. “I was smart enough to marry the most beautiful woman in the universe. Now, didn't you say something this morning about an apple pie?”

“I did,” she said with a laugh.

“Apple's my favorite pie for August, you know.”

“I thought that was October,” she teased.

“Hmm. You might be right. But we don't want to be rigid about these things, do we?”

Unable to stop herself, Charlotte laughed again. She did love this man. She'd found love twenty-five years after losing the husband she'd adored. All she could hope was that her son would find a woman strong enough to love him despite his flaws. Strong enough to teach him despite his failings.

If such a woman existed.

H
e was acting like a high-school kid, Troy Davis chided himself. He'd actually started whistling as he got ready for his evening out with Faith. Whistling! Anyone hearing him, watching him, would hardly recognize him as the sober, level-headed sheriff of Cedar Cove—but he didn't care what anyone thought. This was the first Saturday night in years—yes, years—that was about indulgence, not obligation. He felt a little guilty thinking that, since he'd loved Sandy so much, but surely he was entitled to an evening of simple enjoyment. Surely he was entitled to this sense of joyful anticipation.

Faith had invited him to dinner at her house in Seattle. Late in the afternoon he shaved, then slapped on aftershave, the same brand he'd been wearing for decades. Maybe it was time for a change, he reflected. When he'd finished combing his hair, he searched his closet for a dress shirt. Not the starched-collar type; a knit one that would be considered appropriate for church on Sunday morning. Appropriate for a dinner date on Saturday evening.

Ever since that first call, he'd talked to Faith nearly every night. Usually he wasn't one to while away an hour on idle conversation, yet he and Faith were on the phone that long and sometimes longer. Then they'd hang up and Troy would remember four or five other things he wished he'd said; he'd have to resist the urge to call her right back.

They'd met a week ago in Cedar Cove for hot, greasy French fries and a diet soda—at the Pancake Palace, of course. The haunt of their youth, as Faith described it. Afterward, they'd wandered down to the marina. They chatted and laughed and reminisced. By the time Faith drove back to Seattle, night had begun to fall.

Troy had waited until he assumed she was home and then phoned, just to be sure she'd arrived safely. They'd spent almost four hours together, and another hour on the phone once Faith was back in Seattle.

They hadn't kissed. Not yet, anyway. He hadn't even touched her in more than the most impersonal of ways—fingers brushing as he passed her a drink, a hand on her elbow as they crossed the street. Frankly, he was afraid. He was determined to put those fears behind him, though, and if the opportunity arose, if the moment was right, he'd approach her for a kiss. She had to want it, too. It'd been so many years since he'd needed to read those signs…. Well, he just hoped he'd know.

Before he left the house, Troy rummaged through the bathroom looking for cologne, which, to his utter frustration, he couldn't find. His daughter had given him some for Christmas. Nice stuff, expensive. That must've been a year ago, maybe two, and he was sure he'd tucked it away somewhere in the bathroom. He'd never even opened the bottle.

Now that he thought about it, Sandy had still been living at home so it would've been more than two years. By now, it was probably ruined, anyway. Just as well; he didn't want to be too obvious. And he probably shouldn't wear competing scents, not that
he'd
really notice but women tended to have a better sense of smell. Fine. The aftershave was sufficient.

He straightened some magazines in the living room, trying to calculate when he should leave. He'd rather not show up early, which might look a bit pathetic, but getting there late might be seen as rude. Traffic and the ferry schedule made it difficult to figure out exactly how long the drive would take.

Just as he'd decided it was time to go, he heard the front door open.

“Dad, are you here?”

“Megan?” His heart sank. He hadn't said anything about Faith to his daughter. Not because he felt guilty, not really. But he wasn't sure what to tell her. It seemed too soon to describe the relationship as serious. Until he knew whether he and Faith truly had a future, he'd rather keep it to himself.

“There you are,” Megan said, rounding the corner of the kitchen as he stepped into the living room, pocketing his keys. His daughter arched her eyebrows in evident surprise. “Don't you look good.”

He grumbled something indistinct, wondering what he should say. His instincts hinted that Megan wasn't ready to hear about any other woman in his life.

Megan continued to study him, arms folded as she surveyed his attire. “What's the occasion?” she asked.

Troy shrugged uncomfortably. “Nothing much. I'm meeting an old friend.” Now was the time to mention that the “old friend” just happened to be female, yet he hesitated.

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you were going on a date.”

Troy frowned and shrugged again.

Megan shook her head. “That's what I thought.”

“What?”

“I can't picture you dating,” she said with finality. She seemed to think it was too improbable to waste time discussing.

“Why not?” he demanded. He might be close to retirement age but he wasn't dead.

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Megan joked. “You?”

“I might want to start dating again,” he informed her. “Eventually…” He didn't find her attitude the least bit encouraging. Nor was he amused.

“No way!” His daughter looked shocked, her response even more uncompromising than he'd expected.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Mom's only been dead a short while!”

No one needed to tell him that. “I'm well aware of when your mother died.” He didn't remind Megan that Sandy had been ill for years beforehand. Not once in all those years had he so much as looked at another woman. He'd been faithful to the very end.

“It wouldn't be right,” Megan said stubbornly, her smile fading. “You wouldn't do that, would you?”

“Why wouldn't I?” he returned, struggling to disguise his feelings.

“Like I said, it wouldn't be right,” she repeated, more loudly this time. “People would talk.”

“I don't live my life based on other people's opinions,” he said, his voice sharp with frustration and annoyance.

“You'd be dishonoring Mom's memory.” Megan was noticeably upset. “Good grief, Dad, it's barely been two months! You don't honestly mean—do you—that you're going out on a
date?
That's just…wrong.” Her eyes, so like Sandy's, filled with horror.

“No, of course not,” he said, his tone as soothing as he could make it.

Megan immediately relaxed. She smiled again, unable to hide her relief. “Thank goodness. For a minute there, you had me worried.”

Troy sighed. No point in asking his daughter's opinion on the matter of seeing Faith. She'd made her feelings completely clear. As far as Megan was concerned, everything should remain exactly the way it was.

“I stopped by to see if you'd come for dinner,” she announced.

“When?”

“I was going to suggest tonight, but I know you've already got plans—with your friend.” Her face revealed her distress. “I should've asked you sooner, but it never dawned on me that you might be doing something.” She bit her lip, then made an effort to pretend it wasn't important. “That's what I get for taking my dad for granted.”

More than anything Troy hated to disappoint his daughter. “What are you having?” he forced himself to ask.

“Steamed clams and fresh crab I picked up at the Farmer's Market this afternoon. Craig's got everything in a huge pot, along with freshly picked corn and new potatoes.”

“What are you celebrating?”

A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “You'll have to wait and see. Is there any way you could make it?”

Why, oh, why hadn't he left the house ten minutes ago? Then he wouldn't have been here and Megan wouldn't have known anything about his plans.

“Can you, Dad?” Her eyes shone with hope.

“I'll have to make a phone call first.” The words nearly stuck in his throat. If there was any alternative, he would've taken it. Yes, Megan was spoiled; he admitted that. He guessed it was natural enough, since she was an only child and cherished by both parents. In addition to that, he and Megan had been through so much together during Sandy's illness. They'd grown close and solicitous of each other's feelings. Although Megan obviously had her limits…

“Oh, Dad.” Megan sniffed and her eyes were wet with tears. “I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I can't.”

“Save what?” he asked, trying to pretend that changing his dinner plans was no big thing.

“My news,” she said. He could tell she was trying hard to keep her voice even.

Troy didn't know what to think.

“I'm pregnant!” she cried, and then she allowed the tears to slip down her cheeks. “Craig and I are going to make you a grandpa.”

It took Troy a moment to grasp this. “You're going to have a baby?”

She nodded enthusiastically and started to laugh again, still weeping. “I'm almost two months. Can you believe it? It must've happened shortly after Mom died, when I was so upset and…and missing her so much. Don't you see, Dad?”

Troy wasn't sure what he was supposed to see.

“This baby is Mom's last gift to me.”

“Your mother…”

“She sent this baby to me because she knew how lonely I'd be. Mom knew a baby would help me face the future without her.”

“Oh.” He was touched by how childlike she sounded—and a little worried, too.

“You're happy for us, aren't you?” she asked, reaching out and touching his sleeve, silently imploring him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said and gathered her in his arms. “I am. I'm thrilled for you. For all of us.” He paused. “Are you feeling all right?”

She nodded. “I feel wonderful. Craig's so excited. Me, too. At first I could hardly believe it. I've been on the pill ever since we got married. I just went off it a few months ago, and…”

This was information he didn't need to hear, the type of thing Megan should be discussing with her mother. But he'd been standing in for Sandy so long, it probably seemed natural for his daughter to share the intimate details of her marriage with him.

“I stopped taking them when Mom got—when it became obvious we wouldn't have her with us very much longer,” she elaborated. “I just forgot….”

“I see.”

“Now you can understand why I said this baby is Mom's last gift to me.”

Troy patted her back. The pregnancy
was
exciting news, and Sandy, had she lived, would've been over the moon at the prospect of being a grandmother.

“What time do you want me at the house?” Troy asked.

“Seven,” Megan said, breaking away from him. “I don't think doing it tomorrow night is a good idea with the clams and the crab.”

Troy agreed they shouldn't delay. “I'll call my friend.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Megan hadn't called him Daddy in years. Generally it was
Dad.
“I'll see you in an hour,” she said, hurrying toward the door.

“I'll be there,” he assured her. Then, remembering his manners, he asked. “Do you want me to bring anything?”

“No…oh, Dad, please don't let on that you know about the baby. Craig's parents are coming, and I don't want to ruin the surprise.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” So the in-laws would be there, too. Funny Megan hadn't thought to mention that earlier. Not that it would've mattered. She had no reason to think he might have made other plans, since he rarely did anything outside of work. There hadn't been room for anyone in his life except Sandy and of course Megan—until now.

Troy watched Megan pull out of the driveway and head down the street before he walked over to the phone. Without needing to look up Faith's number, he punched it in.

“Hello.” She answered after the first ring, her voice cheerful.

“Hi,” he said, bracing himself to tell her the unhappy news.

“Troy! Don't tell me you're in the neighborhood already. Not that it's a problem. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'm afraid I went overboard with dinner,” she said with a laugh. “I baked fresh rolls from a recipe that was my grandmother's. I can't remember the last time I used that recipe. Thanksgiving, I think.”

“Faith…” All he could do was blurt out the truth. “Listen, I—”

“Do you remember the chocolate cake I made before you left for basic training?” she asked, not letting him finish.

“You baked a cake, too?”

“Yes. I hardly ever bake these days. There doesn't seem to be much point when it's just me. I'd nearly forgotten how much I enjoy it.”

He felt dreadful. “Faith,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment. “I can't come.”

The line went silent.

“I'm sorry,” he added, “sorrier than I can say.”

“Something came up?”

He wasn't sure how much to tell her. “Yes. Something…important.”

She paused and seemed to regroup. “These things happen, Troy. So much for the best-laid plans,” she said lightly. “We'll do it another time.”

“It's Megan, my daughter,” he explained. “She just found out she's pregnant. She's invited me to dinner to celebrate.”

“Troy, that's wonderful news!”

“Yes, yes, it is,” he said. “The invitation came at the last minute.”

“I understand,” she said. “Of course you have to join your daughter and her husband.”

“Will you give me a rain check on dinner?” he asked.

“With pleasure.”

“I appreciate how kind you're being about this,” he told her and meant it. Faith had apparently spent the entire day cooking in anticipation of their evening together.

“Troy, have dinner with your daughter tonight. I understand completely. Don't worry about it for a second.”

“Thank you.” His gratitude made him feel lighthearted and almost giddy. Faith was every bit as compassionate, as
good,
as he remembered. He looked forward to seeing her again—seeing what the future held.