Rose Harbor in Bloom (16 page)

Nothing.

“It looks like he’s out,” I told Rover.

As if to prove me wrong, Rover barked a couple of times and then placed his paw against the door.

I could see Rover wasn’t going to give up easily. After what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, I pressed the buzzer a second time.

“Be patient,” Mark grumbled from the other side of the door.

A moment later it was thrust open. Mark leaned heavily on his crutches and glared back at me as if I was nothing more than a pest.

His lack of appreciation irritated me. It was all I could do not to look down at Rover and tell him this had been a complete waste of time.

“I brought you dinner,” I said, and lifted the bag so he could see I had a reason for interrupting his busy social calendar.

Mark frowned. “Why?”

I couldn’t very well tell him it’d been Rover’s suggestion. “I don’t know—silly of me, I guess, but I thought you might be hungry and fixing your own meal would be a hassle.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm. I was sorry I’d given in to Rover.

Mark stared back at me as if testing my words. His frown deepened as if he suspected I had an ulterior motive.

“Do you want me to leave it on the porch?” I asked, growing more irritated by the moment.

He hesitated and then shook his head. “You can come in.”

Well, well, this was a surprise. He was admitting me into his private domain. I wasn’t sure I should be happy about this.

The moment he’d opened the door, Rover had bolted inside as if escaping grave danger. Mark scooted to one side so I could enter his living room. It’d been a considerably rocky week for Mark and me. At this point I wasn’t sure we were even on speaking terms. The television was turned to a news channel, and the ottoman was scooted away from the chair. It looked like he’d been elevating his leg.

“Would you like me to put this in the kitchen?” I asked.

“Please.” He followed me and seemed quite agile with his crutches.

I didn’t make a show of looking around, although I did my best to scout out the place, hoping I wasn’t being obvious. My curiosity was on high alert. I couldn’t see anything of a personal nature. No photos, no knickknacks. The walls were bare. The house looked more like a hotel room, but then I reconsidered. At the very least a hotel room boasted artwork. Mark had next to nothing.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“How do you think I’m feeling?”

“Okay, it was a silly question. I was making conversation.” I should have realized by now Mark wasn’t in the mood for a social visit.

After placing the package on the kitchen counter I turned to
face him, my hands behind my back and Rover at my feet. My dog was sprawled out as though he intended on staying awhile.

“Did you take the pain medication?”

“No. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

Now it was my turn to frown, but that was his choice, not mine. I’m no hero, and if the doctor felt I would be more comfortable with pain meds, I’d swallow them down without a moment’s hesitation. Clearly Mark and I had a difference of opinion on the subject.

I started to leave when Mark stopped me. “I feel I might owe you an apology,” he said, his hands tightening around the grips on his crutches.

He might?

I clenched my teeth before I could tell him I felt I was due an entire series of apologies. Mark had been brusque, short-tempered, ungrateful, and downright inhospitable. By all that was right I shouldn’t give a hoot if he ate dinner or not and probably wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Rover.

“I appreciate you finding me in my workroom,” he murmured, as if he found it difficult to say the words. They seemed to be glued to his tongue, as though he wasn’t accustomed to making amends. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

I clenched my jaw tighter this time. This accident should be a lesson for Mark to keep his business door unlocked. What kind of businessman was he, anyway? “You need to thank Rover for that.”

Rover raised his head and looked expectantly up at Mark as though willingly accepting his gratitude. He was a forgiving kind of dog, I noted, whereas I didn’t quite meet his level.

“I brought you a salad and some squash soup,” I said, seeing that the apology made him so uncomfortable.

Mark frowned. “How’d you know that was my favorite soup?”

“I didn’t. I just happened to have some in the freezer. Would
you like me to heat it up for you? Or would you rather have the salad?”

“I’ll take the soup.”

“Okay.” I saw that he had a microwave, and opening a cupboard, I found a bowl and heated up the soup.

“You don’t need to do this, you know.”

I was well aware of that but didn’t acknowledge the statement. “I’ll put the salad in the refrigerator for later.”

“Keep it out if you would,” he instructed.

“Okay.” Then, feeling that I’d worn out my welcome, I reached for Rover’s leash. “I’ll leave you to your dinner.”

He pulled out the kitchen chair and sat down. “You know this broken leg means it might be some time before I’m able to get back to work on your rose garden.”

That went without saying. “I figured as much.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Me, too.”

For the second time, Rover and I started for the front door.

“Thank you, Jo Marie,” Mark called after me. “For everything.”

Appreciation. From Mark?

I had to admit it felt good to have him say it. He wasn’t as bad an ogre as I’d thought him earlier. The pain in his leg must have been horrific, and that had caused him to be such a grump.

“Would you like me to check up on you in the morning?” I asked. It would be late morning, as I was bound to be busy with providing breakfast and checking in guests before then.

“No,” he said flatly.

I couldn’t keep from smiling. Everything was back to normal.

When I returned to the inn, I found Kent and Julie Shivers had returned.

“We’re waiting for our friends to pick us up,” Julie explained.

“Oh, I thought you’d already left for dinner.”

“No, Oliver and Annie took us for a ride around the cove, and I pointed out where Kent asked me to be his wife.” Her voice went soft, with romance gleaming from her eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t propose down by the waterfront,” Kent insisted. “We were at the movie theater—”

“We most certainly were not,” Julie said, cutting him off. “A woman remembers these things, and we were standing where the gazebo is now. Why else would Annie have the renewal of our vows take place there?”

Kent crossed his arms. “I distinctly remember getting up my nerve to propose while watching Steve McQueen.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “We never even went to the movies in Cedar Cove.”

“Fine. If that’s what you want to believe, then it must have been with some other girl.”

Julie’s gaze narrowed. “I always expected you met someone else … some girl …”

“Oh, for the love of Pete,” Kent said and exhaled sharply. “There’s no talking to you, woman.”

With that, he left the kitchen and marched down the hallway to their room, slamming the door.

Julie flinched. “I apologize on behalf of my husband,” she said, clearly disgruntled.

I found it interesting that these two people who had managed to maintain a healthy marriage for fifty years could be at almost constant odds. When Annie had told me about her grandparents, there’d been a gleam in her eyes as she spoke of their love and affection for each other. Annie said she hoped that when she married she could have the same kind of loving relationship with her own husband that her grandparents shared.

“I believe I’ll wait for our friends in the living room,” Julie said,
as if nothing had happened and Kent was simply resting awhile before dinner.

“Would you care for some tea?” I asked, playing along. Although Julie did her best to hide it, I could see she was upset.

“Yes, that would be very nice,” she said, and with a dignified walk made her way into the other room.

I brought her tea. “Where are Annie and Oliver?” I set the cup down on the end table.

“They went out themselves. Oliver is such a dear, dear boy. I’d always hoped …” She let the rest fade.

“You hoped?” I prodded, wondering if she was thinking the same thing I was regarding those two.

“I’d hoped that Annie might be romantically interested in Oliver,” Julie admitted shyly. “I’d never say anything, seeing how much she seems to dislike him. I have no idea why she feels the way she does. And now that she’s broken her engagement to that car salesman, I guess there’s hope.”

Based on Annie’s reaction to Oliver, I tended to think there really wasn’t much of a chance of anything romantic happening.

“I met him once, you know,” Julie continued. “His name escapes me at the moment. He was handsome enough, I suppose, but there was something about him that put me off. Something about his eyes.”

From what Annie had told me, Julie had hit the nail on the proverbial head. Annie’s fiancé—er, former fiancé—did seem to have a wandering eye. Although it’d been difficult, I felt she’d made a wise choice, and from what I was hearing I wasn’t the only one.

“He was so sure of himself, cocky-like. Kent said I was imagining things, but I knew all along that salesman didn’t have a clue how to make my granddaughter happy.”

“Have you said anything to Annie about your feelings?” I asked her.

“No. Kent didn’t think it was a good idea. He said I’d look like an interfering old woman, and I suppose he’s right.”

It was nice to know Julie thought Kent was right about something, I mused, holding back a smile.

“We’ve interrupted your dinner,” Julie said. “Please don’t feel you need to keep me company. Our friends will be here any minute.” She held up the china cup and motioned toward the kitchen. “Now, go. Enjoy your meal.”

The truth was I’d completely forgotten about my salad. I’d been preoccupied by Mark and then by Kent and Julie. I suspected that Julie wasn’t in the mood to chat, and so I returned to the kitchen. Rover was curled up in his bed there asleep, exhausted from the events of the day. Good dog that he was, he would remain there until bedtime and then dutifully follow me into my bedroom.

Dinner had lost its appeal, and after a single bite, I decided to save the salad for my lunch the following afternoon. After covering it with plastic wrap, I set it inside the refrigerator.

The Shivers’s friends arrived, and Kent came out of the bedroom; within minutes the two couples were out the door. It appeared their squabble was forgotten.

The house was quiet once again. I went to my room and sat down in front of the television with my knitting. As my fingers worked the yarn of the afghan my mind whirled with memories of Paul and the phone call with Lieutenant Colonel Milford.

It was during quiet moments like this that I missed Paul the most. I hadn’t felt his presence for several weeks now, and I longed to feel once again that he was with me. I hungered for those special times when it seemed I could close my eyes and pretend that he was sitting close by and the two of us were content just to be together. Words weren’t necessary. Several times now I’d felt Paul’s presence with me. This sense was so real I was convinced I could reach out and touch him. When I’d first taken over the inn, Paul had come to tell me I would heal here. It was his reassurance and love that gave
me the courage to move forward in life. I’d never told anyone about these visits, if, indeed, that was what they were, for fear of what everyone would think. Frankly, I didn’t care if this feeling, this sense of closeness, was strictly in my imagination. It comforted me. It soothed my aching heart. Paul might be dead to the world, but he remained very much alive to me.

Annie didn’t like this one bit. She’d been trapped into having dinner with Oliver. Her grandparents were going out with friends for the evening, and naturally Oliver had immediately suggested that the two of them do the same. Although she’d tried to get out of it, first Oliver and then her grandparents had insisted she dine with him.

“Thanks, but I’ve got plenty to do before the family get-together.” That was a small white lie, but three against one wasn’t the least bit fair. She’d seen to just about everything and was satisfied that the day would go as smoothly as possible.

“Oh, Annie, you’ve worked far too hard as it is,” her grandmother had gone on to say. “Let Oliver treat you to dinner.”

“Yes, let me,” Oliver had chimed in. He’d flashed her a cocky
grin. He knew exactly what he was doing and that she would do almost anything in order to avoid spending time with him. It seemed like he went out of his way to make her as uncomfortable as possible. Oliver Sutton hadn’t changed at all.

“I … I …” She’d fumbled for an excuse, but neither her grandparents nor Oliver would hear of it. So now she was trapped.

Oliver suggested they dine at DD’s on the Cove, and she readily agreed, eager to get this evening over with as quickly as possible. They were led to a table on the deck overlooking the cove, and despite her reluctance, the sun bouncing off the water helped put her mind at rest. It was rare to have such a lovely evening this early in the year.

Sailboats moored at the marina bobbed gently in the water, and multicolored flower baskets hanging from streetlights dotted the water’s edge. The scene was worthy of a postcard.

“What looks good to you?” Oliver asked, scanning the menu.

Annie had been absorbed with the scenery and hadn’t bothered to look. “I’m not sure yet.” She was far too tense to be hungry. “I’ll probably just order an appetizer.” The minute the words were out she froze, certain Oliver would make some derogatory comment about her weight or something else that would fluster or embarrass her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, after studying her expression.

“I was waiting for you to say something sarcastic,” she returned, stiffening as she did so.

“Why would I do that?” He seemed completely relaxed. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his legs. When they’d first arrived he’d ordered a glass of sauvignon blanc. All Annie wanted was water.