Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber
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