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Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.

CEDAR COVE

16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD

204 ROSEWOOD AVENUE

311 PELICAN COURT

44 CRANBERRY POINT

50 HARBOR STREET

6 RAINIER DRIVE

BLOSSOM STREET

THE SHOP ON BLOSSOM STREET

A GOOD YARN

OLD BOYFRIENDS

WEDNESDAYS AT FOUR

TWENTY WISHES

SUMMER ON BLOSSOM STREET

HANNAH’S LIST

THURSDAYS AT EIGHT

CHRISTMAS IN SEATTLE

Dear Friends,

Welcome to the fifth instalment of the Cedar Cove series. Whether this is the first Cedar Cove book you’re reading or the fifth, my hope is that you’ll feel right at home.

Like some of the residents of Cedar Cove you’ll find a few surprises – and a new romance in the making. And I hope there’ll be a lot of smiles and a laugh or two along the way.

I always enjoy hearing from my readers. You can reach me through my website by signing the guest book at debbiemacomber.com. Click the Cedar Cove button and you’re in for some fun. If you aren’t online, you can write to me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA. Three or four times a year I provide updates on the characters – letters from the characters themselves – and they often have a recipe they want to share.

So make yourself a cup of tea and settle down with your friends from Cedar Cove. Olivia, Jack, Grace, Charlotte, Ben, Roy, Corrie and everyone else – they’re all eager to fill you in on what’s happening in town. They’re delighted you’re back. And so am I!

Warmest regards,

Debbie Macomber

50 Harbor Street
Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Mary Lou Carney whose friendship and wisdom have been a special blessing to me.

Some of the Residents of Cedar Cove, Washington

Olivia Lockhart Griffin: Family court judge in Cedar Cove. Mother of Justine and James. Married to Jack Griffin. Lives at 16 Lighthouse Road.

Jack Griffin: Newspaper reporter and editor of The Cedar Cove Chronicle. Recovering alcoholic. Married to Olivia. Father of Eric, who lives in Nevada with his wife, Shelly, and their twin boys.

Charlotte Jefferson: Mother of Olivia. Now married to widower Ben Rhodes.

Justine (Lockhart) Gunderson: Daughter of Olivia. Married to Seth Gunderson. Mother of Leif. The Gundersons live at 6 Rainier Drive.

Seth Gunderson: Justine’s husband. Co-owner, with Justine, of The Lighthouse restaurant.

James Lockhart: Olivia’s son and Justine’s younger brother. In the navy. Lives in San Diego with wife, Selina, and daughter, Isabella.

Stanley Lockhart: Olivia’s ex-husband and father of James and Justine. Now lives in Seattle.

Will Jefferson: Olivia’s brother, Charlotte’s son. Married and lives in Atlanta.

Grace Sherman: Olivia’s best friend. Librarian. Widow of Dan Sherman. Mother of Maryellen Bowman and Kelly Jordan. Involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with Cliff Harding. Lives at 204 Rosewood Lane.

Cliff Harding: Retired engineer and now horse breeder living near Cedar Cove. Divorced father of Lisa, who lives in Maryland.

Cal Washburn: Horse trainer, employed by Cliff Harding.

Maryellen Bowman: Oldest daughter of Grace and Dan Sherman. Mother of Katie. Married to Jon Bowman.

Jon Bowman: Photographer, married to Maryellen. Father of Katie.

Zachary Cox: Accountant, married to Rosie. Father of Allison and Eddie Cox, aged seventeen and eleven. Lives at 311 Pelican Court.

Anson Butler: Boyfriend of Allison Cox.

Cecilia Randall: Navy wife, living in Cedar Cove. Accountant, working for Zach Cox. Married to Ian Randall, submariner. Lost a baby (Allison). Is now pregnant.

Rachel Pendergast: Works at the Get Nailed salon. Friends with Bruce Peyton and his daughter, Jolene. Romantically involved with sailor Nate Olsen.

Bob and Peggy Beldon: Retired. Own the Thyme and Tide Bed & Breakfast at 44 Cranberry Point.

Roy McAfee: Private investigator, retired from Seattle police force. Two adult children, Mack and Lynnette. Married to Corrie.

Corrie McAfee: Roy’s wife and office manager. The McAfees live at 50 Harbor Street.

Lynnette McAfee: Daughter of Roy and Corrie. Moves to Cedar Cove to work as a nurse practitioner in the new medical clinic.

Gloria Ashton: Police officer for Bremerton force. Lynnette’s friend and neighbour.

Troy Davis: Cedar Cove sheriff.

Pastor Flemming: Local Methodist minister.

One

Corrie McAfee was worried. And she knew that her husband, Roy, was too.

Who wouldn’t be? Starting in July, Roy—a private investigator—had received a series of anonymous postcards, and while the messages weren’t overtly threatening, they were certainly distressing.

The first communication, which had been mailed to the office, spoke of regrets. During the intervening weeks, there’d been several others. Corrie had read each postcard so often she’d memorized them all. The first one stated: EVERYONE HAS REGRETS. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’VE DONE YOU WISH YOU COULD DO OVER? THINK ABOUT IT. There hadn’t been a signature then, or on any of the other cards. They’d arrived at infrequent intervals and been mailed from different locations. The cryptic messages kept playing in her mind. The passing of time hadn’t helped; she was as much in the dark now, in October, as when she’d seen that first postcard.

There was a final gasping, gurgling sound as the coffee drained into the glass pot. The noise distracted Corrie from her worries for a moment—long enough to glance out the wide office window that overlooked downtown Cedar Cove, Washington. Serving as Roy’s secretary and assistant had its advantages, and in this instance, disadvantages. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss; the current situation was definitely one of those cases. She’d sleep better if she’d never learned about the mysterious postcards.

And yet…even if Roy had managed to keep them hidden from her, she would still have known—because the last message had been hand-delivered, at night, to their front door. Not to the office like the others, but to their home. Late one evening, someone had walked up the sidewalk and onto the porch of their house. As it happened, Roy and Corrie were entertaining dinner guests that night—and had opened the door to discover that an unknown person had left a fruit basket and an accompanying note. Chills raced up Corrie’s spine at the thought that this person knew their home address.

“Is that coffee ready yet?” Roy called from inside his office. Apparently she hadn’t delivered it fast enough.

“Hold your horses—it’s coming.” Corrie didn’t mean to snap at her husband. Normally she wasn’t short-tempered. This uncharacteristic outburst revealed how upset she was by everything that was happening to them. Sighing, she filled a clean mug for Roy and carried it, steam rising, into his office.

“Okay, that does it,” she said, putting the coffee on the corner of his desk. “We have to talk.”

As if he didn’t have a care in the world, Roy leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. They’d been married for twenty-seven years, and Corrie found him as attractive now as she had in college. Roy had played football for the University of Washington and been a “big man on campus,” as they used to say. He was tall and broad-shouldered, still muscular, his posture as straight as ever. He stayed in good shape without apparent effort, and Corrie envied, just a bit, the fact that he’d never gained any weight. His dark hair had thinned and was streaked with gray, which only added a look of dignity to his appearance.

Of all the women he dated during college, he’d fallen in love with her. Theirs hadn’t been an easy courtship, though. They’d broken up for more than a year, and then reunited. Once they were back together, they realized how much they loved each other; there’d been no uncertainty about their feelings. They were married shortly after graduation and their love had endured through trials and tribulations, through good years and bad. They’d had plenty of both.

“Talk about what?” Roy asked casually.

His nonchalance didn’t fool Corrie. Her husband knew exactly what was on her mind. “Does THE PAST HAS A WAY OF CATCHING UP WITH THE PRESENT tell you anything?” she murmured, sitting down in the chair normally reserved for clients. She wanted Roy to understand that she wouldn’t be put off easily. She was afraid he knew more about these postcards than he’d let on. It would be just like him to try to protect her.

Roy frowned. “Those messages don’t have anything to do with you, so don’t worry about it.”

His answer infuriated her. “How can you say that? Everything that happens to you affects me.”

He seemed about to argue, but after all these years, he recognized that she wasn’t going to be satisfied with glib reassurances. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I’ve made enemies and, yes, I have regrets, but who doesn’t?”

Roy had reached the rank of detective for the Seattle Police Department and been forced into early retirement because of a back injury. In the beginning, Corrie had been excited to have her husband at home. She’d hoped they’d be able to travel and do some of the things they’d always planned, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Roy had the time now, but their finances had been adversely affected when he’d had to take early retirement. Their income was less than it had been by at least twenty percent. In a money-saving effort, they’d moved from Seattle and across Puget Sound to the community of Cedar Cove. The cost of property was much more reasonable in Kitsap County, which also offered a slower pace of life. When the real estate agent showed them the house at 50 Harbor Street, with its wide front porch and sweeping view of the cove and lighthouse, Corrie knew immediately that this house and this town would become their home.

They’d moved from the big city, and it hadn’t been as much of an adjustment as Corrie had feared. Folks in town were pleasant, and Roy and Corrie had made a few good friends—notably the Beldons—but kept mostly to themselves. They knew their neighbors’ names and exchanged greetings, but that was about it.

To Corrie’s disappointment, Roy had grown restless with retirement. His moods had reflected his boredom, and he was frequently cantankerous. Everything changed when he decided to rent office space and hang out his shingle as a private investigator. It was a decision Corrie had encouraged. Soon her husband was busy and looking forward to each day. He took on the cases that suited him and turned down those that didn’t. Corrie was proud of Roy’s skills, proud of his success and the way he cared about his clients. Never did it occur to her, or apparently to Roy, that one day he’d be solving his own mystery.

“You could be in danger,” Corrie murmured, letting her anxiety show. She refused to hide her feelings, refused to pretend all was well when it wasn’t.

Roy shrugged. “I doubt I’m in jeopardy. If anyone wanted to do me harm, they would’ve done so before now.”

“How can you say that?” she asked irritably. “Bob was followed, and we both know it wasn’t Bob they were interested in. He was driving your car. They thought they were following you.”

Bob Beldon, together with his wife, Peggy, was the owner of the local Bed-and-Breakfast, Thyme and Tide. Bob had borrowed Roy’s car and phoned in a near panic, sure he was being followed. Roy had advised him to drive immediately to the sheriff’s office. As soon as Bob had pulled in to the station, the tail had left him. Only later did Roy and Corrie figure it out. Whoever had shadowed Bob had assumed it was Roy driving.

“The letter said we’re in no danger,” her husband reminded her.

“Of course! That’s what they want us to think,” Corrie argued. “Whoever’s doing this wants us to lower our guard.”

“Now, Corrie—”

She cut him off, rejecting any further attempts to pacify her. “That basket was delivered to our front porch. This…stranger walked right up to our home and left it, and now you’re telling me we have nothing to worry about?” Her voice quavered, and she realized how close she was to losing control of her emotions. She was tired of being afraid, tired of waiting for the next message—or worse. Tired of waking up with her eyes burning from lack of sleep. Her first conscious thought every morning was fear of what might happen that day.

“The basket came over a week ago, and we’ve heard nothing since.” Roy said this as if this was supposed to comfort her. It didn’t.

“There was no postcard in the mail today, was there?” he asked, and she heard an unmistakable hint of tension in his voice.

“No.” Corrie had collected the mail, flipped through it and tossed the bundle of bills and circulars on her desk.

Roy nodded, as if to say Well, then?

“Roy,” she said with deceptive calm, “I can’t remember the last time I slept a night straight through. You’re not sleeping well, either.”

He didn’t agree or disagree.

“We can’t go on pretending everything’s all right.”

Roy’s handsome features tightened. “I’m doing everything I can,” he told her curtly.

“I know, but it isn’t enough.”

“It has to be.”

Corrie wasn’t an expert in the area of investigations, but she knew when it was time to seek help, and they were well past that point. “You need to talk to somebody.”

“Who?” he asked.

The only person she could suggest was the local sheriff. “Troy Davis…”

“Not a good idea,” Roy said. “Whatever this is about happened long before we moved to Cedar Cove.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Regrets. Every postcard mentions regrets. There isn’t a cop who doesn’t have regrets—about things we’ve done or haven’t done or should’ve done differently.”

She thought—but didn’t say—that every human being had regrets. It wasn’t restricted to cops.

“The last message said I JUST WANT YOU TO THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU DID. DON’T YOU HAVE A SINGLE REGRET? To me, that implies I did something—arrested someone, testified against someone—when I was a detective for Seattle.”

Her voice fell to a whisper. “You were on the force a lot of years. Surely there’s a case or two that stands out in your mind.”

Roy shook his head. “Do you think I haven’t thought about that? You’ve seen me read through my files and notes, going all the way back to my first year on the force, and there’s nothing.”

“I don’t know…You haven’t talked to me. You block me out.”

“I’m protecting you.”

“Don’t!” she cried with barely controlled anger. “I need to know—I have to know. Don’t you see what this is doing to me?”

Roy leaned forward then, bracing his elbows against the desk. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ve wracked my brain and I can’t think of anyone who’d come after me like this.”

“But there must be some case…One you might’ve forgotten.”

Obviously at a loss, Roy shook his head again. “Clearly I have. I’ve put murderers away and received my share of threats over the years, but I can’t think of anyone who’d do this. Yet who else could it be?” he said, almost to himself.

“What do you mean?” She was more in control now. Clutching a wadded tissue in her hand, she inhaled a calming breath.

“The type of people I dealt with weren’t subtle. If they wanted revenge, they wouldn’t bother with postcards.”

“A relative of some criminal you sent to jail? Or…a victim?” That was a possibility she’d entertained more than once.

He raised his shoulders in a slight shrug. “Could be.”

“What are we supposed to do now?” It was this constantly being on guard, not knowing what to expect, that had driven Corrie to such an emotional extreme.

“We do nothing.”

“Nothing?” This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How can we?”

“We have to, for now, until they make a mistake. That’ll happen, sweetheart, I promise you, and once it does, this nightmare will be over.”

“You promise?” she repeated.

Roy’s expression softened and he nodded. Offering her further reassurance, he extended his arm across the desk. Corrie reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. Her husband gazed deep into her eyes. She felt his love, his comfort, and for now it was enough. For today, for this morning at least, she would be fine. Her problem, Corrie decided, was that she was just so tired. Everything would seem less frightening if she could get even one decent night’s sleep.

The front door to the office opened, and Roy abruptly released her and stood. From his years of police work he was always on the alert, never more so than now.

“Mom, Dad?” Their daughter’s voice rang from the outer office where Corrie’s desk was situated.

“Linnette,” Corrie cried eagerly, although her enthusiasm might have seemed a little strained. “We’re in here.”

Their daughter came into the room, then paused, an uncertain expression on her face. She was petite like Corrie, with dark hair and eyes. Also like Corrie, Linnette had excelled in school, and because she was the daughter of a policeman, she’d always been sheltered. Her studies had kept her from pursuing much of a social life, but Corrie hoped that would change now. Linnette had never had a serious boyfriend.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Linnette glanced suspiciously from Corrie to Roy and back again. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine,” Corrie assured her in a rush. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

Their daughter was far too intuitive to be easily fooled, but thankfully she let it pass. “I’ve found an apartment,” Linnette announced and did a small jig around the office.

“Where?” Corrie asked, hoping it was in town. Linnette had been hired by the new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic as a physician assistant, and Corrie was thrilled to have her closer.

“It’s on the cove, just down from the Waterfront Park,” Linnette explained. “The complex next to the Holiday Inn Express.”

Corrie knew the apartment building, since she passed it nearly every day when she went for her afternoon walk. The building was close to the marina and a short distance from the library. The two-story complex had a fabulous water view of the cove and lighthouse, with the Bremerton shipyard in the distance. As far as Corrie was concerned, this was perfect.

“I hope they aren’t charging you an arm and a leg,” Roy cautioned, but Corrie could tell he was pleased.

“The rent, compared to what I was paying in Seattle, is a bargain.”

“Good.”

Roy was still protective of his little girl. Unfortunately, he had a difficult time expressing his feelings for his children—especially their son. Mack and his father were constantly at odds. In Corrie’s opinion, they were too much alike. Mack seemed to know exactly what to say to irritate Roy. And Roy wasn’t blameless, either; he seemed to go out of his way to find fault with their son. Because of the tension between them, they generally avoided each other. Corrie didn’t like it. Most of the time, she felt trapped in the middle. Thankfully that wasn’t the case with Linnette, who was two years older than her brother.

Linnette was talking about the apartment and the move-in date and her job at the clinic. Corrie nodded at the appropriate moments but only listened with half an ear. Roy returned to his work while Corrie walked back to her desk, Linnette following her.

“Mom,” Linnette said as soon as they were in the other room. She lowered her voice, and her face was thoughtful. Concerned. “Are you sure everything’s all right between you and Dad?”

“Of course! What makes you ask?”

Her daughter hesitated. “Just now, when I came into the office, it looked like you were ready to cry, and Dad…he—his eyes were so…hard. I’ve never seen him that intense. I didn’t know what to think.”

“You’re imagining things,” Corrie insisted.

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s nothing. We’ll talk about it later.” Her daughter could be obstinate, definitely a trait she’d inherited from Roy. The last person Corrie intended to share her worries with was Linnette. Eventually, perhaps, once this was all settled, they could laugh about it over lunch. But for now, these postcards were no laughing matter.

“You dropped a piece of mail,” Linnette said, gesturing toward the desk.

Corrie froze. “I did?”

“Yes, there was a postcard on the floor when I came in. I put it on your desk.”

Roy must have heard because he came out of the other office. His eyes met Corrie’s. “Give it to me,” he instructed.

A small protest rose from her throat as she walked over to retrieve the card. Carefully she turned it over and read the message before handing it to Roy.

It said in large block letters: ARE YOU THINKING YET?

“Mom,” Linnette demanded. “You’d better tell me what’s going on.”

Two

Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes worked cheerfully in her kitchen, baking a large batch of cinnamon rolls, Ben’s favorite. After nearly sixty years as Charlotte Jefferson, she had to think twice to remember that she and Ben were actually married. A woman her age didn’t expect to find love this late in life. Like so much else in the past few years, romance had come as a very nice surprise.

“It sure smells good in there,” Ben called out from the living room where he sat, feet propped up on the ottoman. The Bremerton morning newspaper was folded over as he completed the New York Times crossword puzzle. Charlotte was impressed by his skill with words and his wide general knowledge. She also liked his lack of arrogance—he used a pencil to fill it in.

“The first batch will be out of the oven soon,” she promised. She enjoyed baking, especially when there was someone who appreciated her homemade treats. Ben certainly did, but he preferred his cinnamon rolls without raisins. She liked the raisins and Jack, her rascal of a son-in-law, did too. The solution was easy enough; she simply split the batch in half.

Her husband of little more than a month was a handsome man, a Cesar Romero lookalike and a few years younger than Charlotte. Their age difference of four years didn’t bother him and it didn’t bother her, either. Charlotte was a young seventy-seven. While still in her teens, she’d married Clyde Jefferson; that was toward the end of the Second World War. Women married much younger back in those days, she reflected. Together Clyde and Charlotte had raised their children in Cedar Cove. Olivia, her daughter, was a family court judge and still lived here. Her son, Will, had moved to Atlanta.

Cedar Cove, where she’d lived for most of her life, was situated on the Kitsap Peninsula across Puget Sound from Seattle, and it was a thriving community. With a population of little over seven thousand, the town was small enough to be friendly, but large enough to have its own medical facility.

The new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic was due to officially open in the middle of November. Charlotte beamed with pride, knowing that without her and Ben and her friends from the Senior Center, there wouldn’t be a clinic.

Even Olivia, her own daughter, hadn’t seen the need for one, since the hospital in Bremerton was less than half an hour away, and there were good doctors in town. All of that was true, but Charlotte felt Cedar Cove should have a more complete medical facility, where emergencies could be handled. Half an hour was a long time to wait if you were having a heart attack! It could make the difference between life and death. Ben had felt the same way, and the cause had bonded them, especially when they were arrested for their peaceful demonstration. That rankled even now, but nearly the entire town had showed up to support her, Ben and their comrades in court. Just remembering how her friends had gathered around them was enough to make Charlotte’s eyes fill with tears.

But, she reminded herself, that was neither here nor there; the clinic had been built and the staff hired, including the McAfees’ daughter, Linnette, a physician assistant.

The phone rang, and Charlotte glanced at the kitchen clock, slightly annoyed that anyone would be phoning so early on a Saturday morning. To her astonishment, it was nearly ten.

“I’ll get it.” As she reached for the telephone, she noticed that Harry, her black cat, was curled up in Ben’s lap. Now this was progress. Harry was Charlotte’s protector and he wasn’t fond of visitors. It had taken him half of this first month to get accustomed to Ben’s presence and that long again to have anything to do with him.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully into the receiver. Clyde used to say that Charlotte was born in a good mood. She had a natural inclination toward happiness; while some looked at the world as a place of gloom and sadness, she saw the positive things in life, even though she, too, had experienced great sorrows.

“Is my father there?” a rather pleasant male voice asked. Then, as if to clarify the point, he added, “Ben Rhodes.”

“Yes, of course. Is this Stephen?”

Her question was followed by an awkward laugh. “No, it’s David. I’m calling from California.”

“Hello, David,” Charlotte said warmly. “I’m so sorry you weren’t able to make it to our wedding. You were missed.”

Ben’s youngest son seemed taken aback by her friendliness. “I wish I could’ve been there, but I’m sure Dad explained that I got tied up with a work situation.”

Ben hadn’t said anything about either son’s absence, and Charlotte hadn’t pressured him with questions. She wasn’t sure what kind of relationship Ben had with his children. He rarely mentioned them and avoided the topic whenever she brought it up. And yet this young man seemed so likable and polite.

“I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to meeting you, David.”

“I’m eager to meet you, too, Charlotte. My father’s a sly old fox. First he moves to Cedar Cove, when he could just as well have moved closer to either Stephen or me, and then he marries again. I don’t mind telling you that was a real surprise for the family. A most delightful surprise, of course.”

“I was thrilled when your father came into my life,” Charlotte said, charmed by David Rhodes. When neither David nor Stephen made it to the wedding, she feared there must be some problem between Ben and his sons—a fear reinforced by Ben’s apparent unwillingness to talk about them. Maybe there was no problem, after all. David certainly appeared to be an agreeable young man.

“Is my father there?” he asked again.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, but I do tend to chatter. I’ll get him right away.” Charlotte set down the phone and discovered that Ben was watching her. “It’s your son. David.”

Ben carefully dislodged Harry, laid down the newspaper and stood. “Did he say what he wanted?”

Ben’s frown confused her. David had been gracious and warm in his manner and given no hint of any tension in the family.

Returning to the kitchen, Charlotte couldn’t help overhearing Ben once he’d picked up the phone. She didn’t mean to pry, but she did admit to being curious.

“Hello, David,” Ben said coolly.

It sounded as if Ben and his son were estranged, and that saddened her. She wondered what had happened. A misunderstanding? A long-held grudge? Or simply years of insufficient contact? And why wouldn’t Ben tell her? After his less-than-enthusiastic greeting, he was silent for some time. Unfortunately Charlotte was privy to only one side of the conversation.

“I believe we’ve already gone over this a number of times. The answer is no, so please don’t ask again.”

Ben’s words were followed by another lengthy pause.

Charlotte joined Ben and slipped her arm around him, offering her love and support. Her husband should be grateful David had phoned and that he and Charlotte had now had a chance to meet, even if it was only by phone. The last people Charlotte had expected to disapprove of their marriage had been their children. In fact, Olivia’s objection to her remarriage had caused the first major rift in their relationship. Olivia’s lack of faith had hurt Charlotte deeply. Ben’s son, however, didn’t seem to have any opposition to her marrying his father.

“I’ll check,” Ben said. He held the receiver against his shoulder. “David will be in Seattle on business early next month and he wants to know if we can join him for dinner.”

Charlotte smiled. “Tell him I’d love to.”

Ben frowned again, as if he wasn’t sure what to say as he brought the receiver back to his ear. “It appears we can make it,” he said in lackluster tones.

Charlotte resisted the urge to poke him in the ribs with her elbow. This was no way to act! Despite their apparent falling out, David was making an effort; the least Ben could do was meet him halfway.

Ben reached for the pencil dangling from a string by the calendar and wrote down the date and time. “We’ll walk onto the Bremerton ferry,” he told his son, “and take a taxi to the restaurant. We’ll meet you there at seven.” With no further conversation, Ben replaced the receiver.

He turned back to her. “As you might’ve guessed, my son and I have had our share of differences.”

“He seems like such a nice young man.”

“He can be,” Ben murmured, his face impassive, difficult to read. “Especially when he wants something.”

“Oh.” Perhaps David had more than one reason for getting in touch with his father. “Did you find out what he wants, then?” she asked tentatively. She wouldn’t ask too insistently. But Ben was closing himself off from her and Charlotte found that troublesome.

Ben shook his head. “I generally don’t ask David a lot of questions,” he said. “I didn’t question him when he left his wife of one year for his secretary—and abandoned his infant daughter. That second marriage didn’t last long, either.” He paused. “Frankly, David is a disappointment to me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t say it, but her own son was a disappointment to her, too. Olivia had never said a word, nor had Olivia’s best friend, Grace Sherman. But Charlotte had caught wind of what Will had done from something Justine, her granddaughter, had mentioned. It had been a casual, offhand remark about how Grace was trying to patch up her romance with Cliff after her Internet relationship with Will. Apparently this wasn’t the first time, either—at least for Will. Georgia, his wife, had hinted that Will had a problem with fidelity. Charlotte didn’t know whether he’d had actual affairs or they were all e-mail relationships. She had no idea what had happened in her son’s life to explain his behavior. Clyde would roll over in his grave if he learned of the careless way their son was treating his marriage vows.

“I wish now I’d said we couldn’t make it,” Ben muttered.

“But we can. I want to meet your son.”

“He’s a self-centered young man. Well, not that young anymore. He’s over forty now. I suppose I’m to blame for his selfishness. Joan spoiled them both while they were growing up. I was so preoccupied with my Navy career and gone so much of the time that I didn’t realize until it was too late. Unfortunately both my sons lack discipline and self-control. When I recognized what they’d become, they were already adults.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a perfectly lovely dinner,” she said in a soothing voice.

“I’m not,” Ben countered sadly. “But we’ve made the commitment, so we’ll do as David wishes and go into Seattle. I want you to meet my children, but it’s important that you know in advance the kind of men they are.”

“My children have disappointed me at times, too,” Charlotte confessed. She’d been mortified to learn that at one point her own daughter had hired Roy McAfee to investigate Ben’s background.

Ben stared blankly out the window. When he spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful. “Sometimes I feel as if my sons begrudge me any happiness. I think they believe I’d be more use to them dead.” At Charlotte’s gasp, he added, “If I know David, and I do, he’s counting on his inheritance to get him out of another financial mess.”

“But Ben, you should’ve told him…” Before their marriage, Ben and Charlotte had adjusted their wills. They’d left the majority of their estates to each other. Ben had left one-third of the remainder to each of his sons, and the last third to charity.

“It’s important that we attend this dinner with a positive attitude,” Charlotte warned.

“I know.” Ben sighed heavily and then hugged her.

“Everything will work out just fine,” she whispered. She had a good feeling about meeting David. She wanted to be a peacemaker in the family, to bring Ben and his sons together, and hoped that David would eventually grow to love her.

The timer on the oven buzzed and Ben lifted his head. “Does that mean what I think it does?” he asked.

“As soon as these cinnamon buns cool down, I’ll frost them and give you a small sample.”

“A small sample?” he protested.

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I don’t want you to ruin your lunch.”

“I won’t,” he promised. Ben sounded like a youngster, pleading with her.

“Sometimes I think you married me because of my baking,” Charlotte said, smiling to show she didn’t mean it.

The laughter fled from his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Then you’d be wrong, Charlotte. I married you because I’ve never loved a woman as much as I love you.”

Three

Cecilia Randall arrived at Smith, Cox and Jefferson Accounting ten minutes early on Monday morning. She was just as glad to get to work. Being home by herself, without her husband, was lonely, despite her friends. The weekends were the worst, especially now that she was pregnant. Ian, her Navy husband, was out to sea on the aircraft carrier USS George Washington. Despite her reassurances, Ian worried about her—with reason, as he pointed out. Everything in their current situation was exactly the same as it had been with Allison, their first child. And Allison had been born with a defective heart.

Ian hadn’t been with Cecilia when Allison was born. Nor had he been there when Cecilia buried their infant daughter. Standing alone at the tiny gravesite had nearly destroyed her and subsequently their marriage. If not for the wisdom of a family court judge who’d denied their divorce on a technicality, they wouldn’t be together now.

Pressing her hand against her stomach, Cecilia sent her unborn daughter thoughts of love and reassurance. It would be different this time, with this baby. But everything had seemed normal with Allison, too. Cecilia quickly flung aside the doubts that pummeled her. Ian had enough of those for both of them.

Cecilia was five months along now and happier than she could remember being in a long time. She desperately wanted this baby. If it had been up to Ian, they wouldn’t ever have children again. He was afraid. Cecilia was, too, but her desire for a family had prevailed over her fears.

“Morning,” Zachary Cox, her boss, said absently. He sorted through his mail as he walked past her desk, which was located outside his office.

“Morning,” she returned.

“Allison will be in this afternoon,” he said, looking up from the mail long enough to catch Cecilia’s eye. “She’s trying to earn money for a car. Her mother and I told her we’d match whatever she managed to save. I’m hoping there’s enough to do around here to keep her occupied for the next few months.”

Cecilia nodded, excited about seeing Mr. Cox’s teenage daughter again. Cecilia had been hired while Mr. and Mrs. Cox were going through a divorce. The same judge who’d denied her and Ian’s divorce had made the joint custody decision in their case. Judge Olivia Lockhart had stated that the children and not the adults were the ones who needed a stable life. Instead of shuffling between residences, the kids, Allison and Eddie, were to remain in the family home and the Coxes would alternate, moving in and out every few days. It had worked well—better than expected—and before long Zach and Rosie Cox were back together.

Soon after Cecilia had begun working for Mr. Cox, he’d started bringing in his troubled teenage daughter. The after-school job was an effort to keep an eye on the rebellious fifteen-year-old and to limit her exposure to a group of out-of-control friends she’d recently taken up with. Despite all that, Cecilia was almost immediately drawn to her. The fact that Allison shared the same name as her own daughter had cemented their bond.

They’d quickly become friends and Allison often confided in her or asked for advice. Cecilia had watched her blossom from an irrational, angry girl into a lovely young woman of seventeen. The contrast between then and now was striking. Cecilia sometimes fantasized that this was how her own daughter would’ve looked and acted at this age had she lived.

“I’ll be happy to keep her busy,” Cecilia assured her boss. There were always a number of small tasks she didn’t get to by the end of the day, and this would help her catch up before she took her maternity leave.

“Great.” Mr. Cox entered his office, still perusing his mail. “Thanks, Cecilia.”

Cecilia was busy all morning with only a short break—a telephone conversation with her best friend, Cathy Lackey, whose husband was aboard the George Washington with Ian. The two of them had formed their own support group and relied on each other when their husbands were out at sea. Rarely a day passed that they weren’t in touch with each other.

At three that afternoon, Allison Cox showed up at the office, just missing her father, who’d left to meet with a client. Allison was willowy and classic-featured, a lovely girl. She wore her dark-brown hair long, all the way to the middle of her back. As she removed her gray wool coat, Cecilia saw that she’d dressed for the office in a green plaid skirt and white turtleneck sweater. When Cecilia had first met her, Allison’s favorite color was black. The girl had rebelled against the destruction of her family and lashed out at those around her. Cecilia liked to think that their friendship had helped Allison. In reality, she supposed, it was her parents’ reconciliation that had changed the girl’s outlook on life. Still Cecilia liked to think she’d been a good influence, and Mr. Cox had frequently made a point of telling her she had.

That was two years ago, and Allison was now a high school senior.

“It’s so good to see you,” Allison said, hugging Cecilia, although it’d been less than a month since they’d spent time together. “How’s our baby doing?”

Cecilia pressed her hand to her stomach. “She’s kicking. Want to feel?”

Allison’s eyes widened. “Sure.”

Cecilia held the girl’s hand over her stomach and watched as Allison stared intently, bit her lower lip and then after a long moment, dejectedly shook her head. “I don’t feel anything.”

“It might be a little early yet,” Cecilia murmured, trying to remember how far along she’d been with the last pregnancy before Ian could feel their daughter’s movements.

Disappointed, Allison dropped her hand. “Well, I guess I’d better get to work.”

Cecilia set her up at a vacant desk across from her own. During tax season, when the accounting firm hired extra help, every square inch of space was used by temporary employees. It got fairly chaotic from January through April of every year.

Allison had been working for an hour when Mary Lou, who staffed the front desk, hurried into their work area. “There’s a young man asking to see you,” Mary Lou said to Allison. She cast a doubtful look at Cecilia as if to say she wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing.

“Did he give you his name?” Allison asked.

“No, but he said you’d know who he is.”

“What’s he wearing?”

Mary Lou edged closer and lowered her voice. “He has a goatee and has on a long black coat that’s got chains attached. He’s wearing a big cross, too. I don’t mind telling you, he looks a bit scary.”

“That’s Anson.” Allison stood and went out to the front. She was gone for ten minutes and was clearly pleased—no, downright jubilant—when she returned.

Cecilia was more than a little curious. “What was that about?” she asked. Without being obvious, she’d managed to get a glimpse of this Anson character through one of the office windows. Cecilia understood Mary Lou’s concerns. The boy’s hair was long, greasy and dark. His overcoat fanned out from his sides, as though he had weapons concealed beneath it. Presumably he didn’t, but still…He wasn’t the type of boy Cecilia expected Allison to be interested in.

“I barely know him,” Allison claimed. “He’s in my French class and he sits beside me. We’ve talked a couple of times and that’s about it.”

“How did he know you were here?”

Allison shrugged. “One of my friends must’ve told him.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“Not really. He asked about our French assignment.” She grinned shyly and glanced down at the floor. “That was just an excuse, though, ‘cause then he asked what I was doing tonight.”

Cecilia nodded, a little worried about the girl’s attraction to this self-styled rebel.

“He lives with his mother,” Allison added.

“Oh.”

“I don’t think they get along very well,” she said thoughtfully.

Cecilia didn’t know what to say. “Would you go out with him if he asked?” she murmured. Whether Allison admitted it or not, she was attracted to the boy. Everything about her said so.

“I…I don’t know, but it’s irrelevant. Anson hasn’t asked and I doubt that he will. Guys like Anson don’t go out. They hang out.”

It was obvious that Mr. Cox hadn’t met the young man, and Cecilia could only imagine how he’d react if he found his daughter with Anson.

“Be careful,” Cecilia warned softly.

“Why?”

“Bad boys can be attractive, which translates into dangerous.”

Allison smiled. “Don’t worry. Like I said, we hardly know each other.”

Cecilia didn’t mean to doubt her, but there was trouble coming; she could feel it. Cecilia just hoped Allison knew what she was doing.

She didn’t have time to think about Allison after she left work because she was meeting Cathy and her three-year-old son, Andy. Cecilia drove straight to her friend’s house without stopping at home. The two of them were putting together Christmas packages to mail off to Ian and Cathy’s husband, Andrew. Cecilia had already filled the trunk of her car with Ian’s gifts. She looked forward to the evening and to the take-out Chinese dinner she and Cathy planned to order.

“Did you get an e-mail from Ian this morning?” Cathy asked.

Cecilia shook her head. “Maybe there’ll be one at home.” Ian never talked about what he did for the Navy. His job had something to do with guided missile systems and involved computers and other advanced technology. Ian couldn’t discuss the details of his Navy life for reasons of national security, and Cecilia accepted that. She didn’t care what the United States Navy had him do, as long as her husband arrived home safe and sound. Currently the George Washington was somewhere in the Persian Gulf, but exactly where was a mystery.

Ian e-mailed her at least once a day. He didn’t have time to send long messages, but even a short note raised Cecilia’s spirits. He insisted that he needed to hear from her, too, and just as often.

Because Cathy was a stay-at-home mom, she’d picked up the necessary mailing supplies. While Andy sat on the floor and played with puzzles, the two women packaged their various gifts.

“You won’t believe what’s in here,” Cathy said, holding up a small jewelry-sized box.

“You’re sending Andrew a ring?” Cecilia asked, puzzled.

“No, it’s a sheer black nightgown—with the promise that I’ll wear it for him when he gets home.”

Cecilia giggled. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” she said, remembering that she herself had done something similar once…

Cathy laughed, too. “I doubt Andrew will think of it that way. I’m ready for a second child. As far as I’m concerned, little Andy needs a baby sister.”

Cecilia managed to smile but quickly looked away and resumed her wrapping. Her life would be so different if Allison had lived. There were no guarantees that the heart ailment that had killed their daughter wouldn’t afflict this second baby. Cecilia prayed with everything in her that the child she carried now would be healthy.