Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-6). Debbie Macomber
heard of him?”
“Of course. You mean to say you haven’t?”
“Sorry, Mom,” Olivia said and released the blanket. It floated down over the poster.
That old movie poster must be worth something these days. It was a collector’s item, no doubt.
“Shall we open the trunk?” Olivia asked.
“Just a minute.” A thought struck Charlotte and she returned her attention to the poster. Throwing back the blanket, she took a second look. When she did, her knees started to shake.
“Mom!” Olivia was at her side instantly. “What is it?”
Sitting on the edge of the old trunk, Charlotte pointed with one hand at the poster while the other covered her mouth. “This can’t be.”
“What?”
“That’s Tom Harding!”
“Who? The man in the poster?”
Was her daughter dense? “Tom Harding is…was Tom Houston.”
“Really?”
Olivia clearly didn’t appreciate the significance of her discovery. Charlotte took a deep breath. “Tom Houston was as popular as Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. He was as well-known as Gene Autry in his time. Oh, my, I can’t believe my own eyes.”
“He could be a relative of your Tom,” Olivia suggested.
“No, it’s him… Oh, my, he really was Tom Houston! You used to watch his television show when you were a little girl,” Charlotte informed her. “Don’t you remember? On Saturday mornings…Tom had his own television series for a couple of years in the nineteen-fifties, and then he faded from the scene.”
“Tom Houston,” Olivia repeated softly as though tugging at childhood memories. She shook her head and then it seemed to come to her all at once. “Tom Houston,” she cried. “That Tom Houston?”
Charlotte saw that Olivia was truly excited now. A moment later, though, she frowned. “Oh, Mom, this has to be some kind of joke.”
“No, that’s Tom. Oh, he was decades older when I met him, but it’s the same man, I’m convinced of that.”
“Should we open the trunk?” Olivia asked obviously a little hesitant.
“Yes.” Charlotte was adamant about that now. “I’m hoping we’ll find some evidence of family.”
“I thought you said Tom didn’t have any family.”
“That the state knows of,” Charlotte corrected. “Which doesn’t mean there isn’t any.” Everyone had family.
Olivia had a bit of trouble undoing the lock, but the struggle was worth it once they were able to pry open the trunk. Inside was a virtual treasure trove of memorabilia.
“Oh, my,” Charlotte whispered, staring at the contents. The first thing she noticed was Tom Houston’s signature white outfit. The good guys always wore white, and Tom was very definitely a good guy. His guns were there, too, along with a number of old television scripts that appeared to be originals. She also saw World War II medals, and remembered that he’d served in the military.
“This stuff must be worth a fortune,” Olivia said in awe.
Filled with purpose, Charlotte straightened. “This is why he wanted me to have the key.”
Olivia glanced at her as if she didn’t know what to say. “He never gave you a hint about who he was, did he?”
“Not even one. He obviously didn’t want me to know while he was alive.” Charlotte was beginning to understand. Tom must have sensed that he could trust her. He must have realized she would do whatever was necessary to get these things—this legacy—to the people who were entitled to it. She might have let him down earlier, but by heaven, she wouldn’t again.
“Mom.” Olivia apparently recognized this look.
“He’s entrusted me with his most precious items for a reason.”
Olivia frowned. “And what’s that?”
Charlotte frowned back. “I’m going to track down his people and—”
“What people? Even if he’s got family, where are they? Why was he a ward of the state?”
“I don’t know. But Janet told me Tom was transferred to Cedar Cove at his own request—it was his original choice. My guess is he’s got family in the area.”
“If that’s the case, then why didn’t Tom contact them himself?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said again.
“My point exactly.”
Charlotte didn’t see it that way. “He trusted me,” she said stubbornly. “Tom wanted me to make sure all of this is properly distributed.”
“Mother—”
“Furthermore,” she continued, cutting Olivia off, “he knew he could count on me.” That, as far as she was concerned, said it all.
From this point forward, Charlotte was a woman on a mission. She’d figured out how to make up to Tom for neglecting him the last few weeks of his life. As a woman of honor, she swore she’d do everything within her power to find Tom Houston’s family. She wouldn’t give up, nor would she rest until his legacy was passed to those who had the right to own it.
On her way home from the library, Grace collected the day’s mail. That used to be Dan’s task because he generally arrived at the house before she did.
It was three weeks to the day since his disappearance. Three hellish weeks, in which she’d been confronted by all the unanswered questions, by doubts and guilt and mounting frustration.
The little everyday things distressed her. Taking out the garbage, bringing in the mail, fixing the leaky faucet in the bathroom. All the things Dan used to do. Her fear and resentment intensified with each task.
At first Dan’s employer refused to believe he’d simply walked away from his life. Grace could hardly believe it herself, but all the evidence pointed toward the likelihood of exactly that. Dan was gone. No one had come up with any reason for it, any hows or whys. Grace had questioned Bob Bilderback, Dan’s boss at the tree service, at least five times, certain that he had some clue—even if he didn’t immediately recognize its significance. Bob was as bewildered as Grace.
Walking into the house, Grace quickly dispensed with the mail. Two bills went into a pile to join the others on Dan’s old desk. Money was tight. Bob had mailed her Dan’s last check made out to her. Frankly she was surprised Dan hadn’t collected that when he left, but then he had his credit cards.
Credit cards.
Grace hadn’t even thought to look at the VISA bill until now. She raced into Maryellen’s old bedroom, which had been turned into a den, and shuffled through the stack of unpaid bills on the desk until she reached the VISA statement still tucked inside the envelope.
Her hand shook as she tore it open and quickly scanned the list of charges. They all seemed to be in order with the exception of one. When she saw where the card had been used, her legs gave out. Bracing her back against the wall, she sank to the floor.
How long she sat there, staring at nothing, Grace couldn’t guess. She finally gathered the courage to call Olivia.
“Can you come over?” she asked. Her voice, which sounded scratchy, must have conveyed her urgency.
“I’m on my way.”
Less than ten minutes later, her friend was at the front door. “What is it?”
“The son of a bitch,” Grace cried, so furious she could barely contain herself. “Look at this!” She thrust the VISA statement