Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber
was easing into the Bremerton dock. Seagulls hovered over the water. Closer at hand, statuesque herons walked delicately along the shore, picking at the exposed seabed with thin beaks while the tide lapped at their feet. A line of foam scalloped the rocky beach.
Peggy was busy clipping herbs in her garden, wearing a large straw hat to shade her face from the late-afternoon sun. She straightened when she saw him, a basket over her arm.
“Jack,” she greeted him warmly. “We haven’t seen nearly enough of you in the last little while.” Hurrying across the lawn, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Isn’t it a beautiful afternoon?”
“Sure is, Peggy.” He paused. “Is Bob around?”
“Sorry, no. He’s off with Pastor Flemming. I don’t know how he did it, but Dave Flemming’s got Bob working with the teenagers’ basketball team.”
Frankly, Jack didn’t know how the minister had managed it, either. “I didn’t realize you and Bob were churchgoing people,” he said, puzzlement in his voice.
“We didn’t used to be,” Peggy admitted. “Not until…” An unknown man had died in their home the previous winter, and—understandably—that had shaken them up. The circumstances were shrouded in mystery. The John Doe had arrived in the middle of a storm; he’d carried false identification and had yet to be identified. So many questions remained unanswered, and some people seemed to think Bob and Peggy might be involved. If the stranger had died at his house, Jack suspected he might start attending church, too.
Peggy, willowy and energetic as always, headed toward the kitchen as though she expected Jack to follow. He did so willingly. Peggy was the kind of woman who made everyone feel welcome. It was her gift and made her a natural in the bed-and-breakfast business.
She held the screen door open for Jack and set her basket on the counter. “I just made a fresh pitcher of iced tea,” she announced, and then, without asking, automatically poured two tall glasses. She arranged several large peanut butter cookies on a plate, as well.
With Jack carrying the tray, they walked to the patio. He set it down on the table and began to make an excuse to leave as soon as politeness allowed. He changed his mind; after all, he’d come here hoping for a distraction from his thoughts about Olivia.
“When do you expect Bob?” he asked.
“Around five, I guess,” Peggy told him.
A quick glance at his watch assured Jack that was only thirty minutes off.
“After Dan Sherman’s death…” Peggy began. She hesitated. “Bob took that hard.”
As a relative newcomer, Jack didn’t remember Bob being especially close to the former lumberman. Thinking about it, though, he recalled that Grace Sherman had asked Bob to speak at the memorial service held for Dan. That had surprised Jack at the time, but he hadn’t said anything.
As if reading his mind, Peggy explained. “Bob and Dan used to be good friends in high school. Dan’s death really disturbed him, and then of course there was…” She shrugged and met Jack’s eyes. He knew she was talking about the stranger.
“After Dan was buried, Bob decided he’d like to start attending church services,” Peggy continued. “I certainly didn’t mind. In fact, I’ve wanted to go for quite a while. Funny how death tends to unnerve us, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Jack smiled wanly, disinclined to chat. But after a few minutes, the silence became uncomfortable, so he tried to fill it with questions. “Bob and Dan didn’t see much of each other lately, did they?”
Peggy shook her head. “Not since they got back from Vietnam, but Dan was never the same after the war. They drifted apart. I don’t think Dan was much of a drinker, but Bob was…well, you know about his problems with the bottle as well as anyone.”
Jack nodded. “Friends can do that,” he said, thinking more about himself and Olivia than Dan Sherman and Bob. “Drift apart, I mean.” Only his relationship with Olivia hadn’t exactly drifted, it had been abruptly cut off. His gut twisted, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think he had the beginnings of an ulcer. When he reached for his iced tea, he noticed Peggy studying him.
“You’ve lost weight.”
“Have I?” If so, he was grateful. He had a bit of a paunch that had come with middle age and a demanding desk job. There wasn’t much time for exercise, and meals often consisted of what he could get from a vending machine.
“I suspect it has something to do with Olivia. You’re obviously miserable.”
Now, that was below the belt. Jack nearly groaned aloud. “Unfair,” he muttered. “And Olivia’s off-limits.”
“Okay,” Peggy murmured, apparently content to abide by his wishes. “But I do have one thing to tell you and then I’ll shut up.”
“One thing?” he repeated. “Just one?”
“Yes,” Peggy said, “and I think you’ll find this interesting. I had to go down to the courthouse the other day and everyone in the whole building was buzzing about another of Olivia’s decisions.” She paused, as if waiting for him to bite.
Funny Jack hadn’t already heard about it. Curiosity got the best of him and he swallowed the bait. “What did she do this time?” he asked.
Peggy explained the controversial joint custody decision Olivia had made. “I wish more judges would take the children’s needs into consideration,” she said.
This willingness to employ common sense in her courtroom was what had first attracted Jack to Olivia. He’d been surprised—and impressed—when a year earlier, she’d basically denied a young couple a divorce.
Everyone in the courtroom could tell that Ian and Cecilia Randall were still in love. They’d lost an infant daughter, and the death of their baby had ripped them apart. Olivia had not only recognized their emotional confusion and their need for each other, she’d boldly acted upon it. The last Jack had heard, Ian and Cecilia were together again.
Peggy was staring at him.
“I haven’t seen Olivia in weeks.” Jack helped himself to a cookie. Six weeks to be precise, not that he was counting. All right, all right, he knew down to the day and the hour, which he wasn’t admitting to anyone.
“Jack, that’s terrible!”
No kidding. Well, he didn’t much like it, either, but he’d backed himself into a corner. It was an impossible situation, and his ego demanded he stay exactly where he was.
“You miss her, don’t you?”
He started to say that after a while it wasn’t so bad, then stopped abruptly. Hell, who did he think he was fooling? It was worse than ever, especially in the past few weeks. “She seems to be doing okay. I hear Stan Lockhart is hanging around a lot these days.”
“Is Olivia dating her ex-husband?”
“Not according to Charlotte.” Jack nearly bit his tongue in his eagerness to close his mouth. He hadn’t meant to let Peggy know he’d been commiserating with Olivia’s mother. Charlotte was his biggest supporter. She’d told him that she’d nagged Olivia to mend fences with Jack; unfortunately, Olivia didn’t seem inclined to admit the error of her ways.
Jack set the cookie aside, his appetite gone. “Apparently Olivia’s got some bug up her butt about how I should be making a play for her.”
“A play?”
“You know,” he said, growing impatient. “She wants me to—in her words—show some gumption and fight for her.”
Peggy frowned. “She wants you to fight?”
“Well, maybe not a knock-down, drag-out fistfight but… hell, I don’t know what she wants.” He assumed she was expecting him to come on bended knee and