“Would you do that, Olivia?” Jack pleaded. “For the sake of my sanity.”
And their relationship, Olivia added silently. “On one condition.” She said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to spring this on Eric, or on Shelly, for that matter. You have to tell Eric I’m inviting her.”
“Done,” he promised. “But will you talk to Shelly for me? Please? I don’t want to sound like I’m meddling.”
“But you are,” Olivia pointed out.
“Yes, but I don’t see any other alternative. They can’t seem to resolve this on their own.”
“All right, give me her phone number,” she said with a sigh. She wrote it down and then made little squiggly lines around the numbers while they continued to talk.
“You doing anything exciting tonight?” Jack asked, and his voice dipped to a sexy growl.
“I don’t know. What have you got in mind?”
“The Chamber of Commerce is having an open house. Wanna go?” Jack’s suggestive tone implied a night of passionate lovemaking, not a rather dull business event.
“I just might be able to fit it into my busy social calendar.”
“Can I pick you up at seven?”
“Seven’s good.”
“Wear something sexy.”
“For the Chamber of Commerce?”
“No, Olivia,” he said blandly, “for me.”
The smile lasted a long time after the conversation had ended.
As soon as Olivia got home, she called Shelly Larson. After a lengthy explanation of who she was and why she’d phoned, she waited for a response to her invitation.
“Does Eric know about this?” Shelly asked.
Her voice was soft and well-modulated. Olivia tried to match it to the photograph Eric had once shown her. As she recalled, Shelly was a petite brunette who worked for a Seattle-based advertising agency. She’d been living with Eric for almost two years.
“Jack suggested I invite you,” Olivia said. “I agreed on the condition that neither of you walked into this blind. He’s hoping you and Eric can settle things once and for all.”
Shelly didn’t respond; apparently she was still considering the invitation.
“Do you have family in the area?” Olivia asked, wanting to get some idea of Shelly’s support system.
“No—my mother died when I was a baby and my dad hasn’t really been part of my life. I was raised by my grandmother, but she’s been gone for three years now.”
“So you’re on your own.”
“Yes.” She didn’t seem interested in continuing with that theme. Instead, she burst out, “I just don’t understand why Eric doesn’t believe the baby is his. It’s an insult to me and to everything I stand for.”
Olivia certainly didn’t want to take sides. According to Jack, his son was incapable of fathering children, but stranger things had happened. “Men are just dense sometimes,” she said, hoping she sounded sympathetic.
“I very much appreciate the dinner invitation,” Shelly said, her voice gaining strength and conviction, “but I have to refuse. Eric and I are finished.”
“Not if you’re carrying his child,” Olivia reminded her. “In that case, the relationship is far from over.”
“It doesn’t matter. Eric doesn’t believe me, and as far as I’m concerned, the courts can deal with this. I don’t want to put a damper on your Thanksgiving—that wouldn’t be fair to you or Jack or your other guests. It was very thoughtful of Jack to want to include me, but it just won’t work.”
Olivia didn’t feel comfortable ending the conversation just yet, now that she knew Shelly was alone in the world. “I’d like to keep in touch, Shelly, if you don’t mind?”
“I guess that would be okay. Jack has a right to know his grandchild.”
They hung up shortly afterward, and Olivia stood there, thinking over what had been said. The young woman had shown extraordinary wisdom in declining the invitation, in Olivia’s opinion. She could sense how badly Shelly wanted to be included in the festivities, yet she’d refused, knowing that the others would be made uncomfortable by the situation between her and Eric.
Jack arrived promptly at seven. “Well?” he asked hopefully. “Did you talk to Shelly?”
“I did, and she turned us down.”
“No.” Jack groaned and ran all ten fingers through his hair in abject frustration.
“What did Eric say?”
“He’d come to dinner if Shelly came, but otherwise he was thinking of joining a few of his friends over in Kirkland where he works.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Olivia said.
“Not for me,” Jack cried.
And not for them either, Olivia supposed.
“Damn, I was counting on better news than this.” He slumped onto her chair, then reached inside his jacket. “I’ve had this for weeks and was waiting for the right time to give it to you.” He took out a gaily wrapped package. “It’s your birthday gift.”
She stared at him in complete astonishment.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Open it.”
Olivia took the gift, sat down next to Jack and untied the ribbon.
“I’m sorry it’s late,” he said, watching her anxiously.
She peeled away the paper and lifted the lid of a gray velvet box. The instant she saw the diamond tennis bracelet, she let out a gasp.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Jack, I…I’m not sure what to say.”
“I wanted you to know how important you are to me, Olivia.”
“Oh, Jack…” She struggled to tell him how thrilled she was and then decided that words weren’t necessary. With great care she set the box aside and slipped her arms around Jack’s neck, kissing him in a way that would leave him in no doubt of her appreciation.
Thanksgiving would be a quiet day for Grace with just Maryellen for company. The divorce had been declared final on Monday. She didn’t have to appear in court; Mark Spellman had phoned her late in the afternoon with the news that everything had gone smoothly. As of Monday afternoon, she was no longer married to Dan. All the paperwork had been signed, sealed and notarized. She was a single woman again.
Thanksgiving morning, Grace woke early. Just as she had a year ago. But last Thanksgiving she’d bought a twenty-pound turkey. While she stuffed the bird and prepared it for roasting, Dan had bantered with her and then gone outside to cut firewood. Later, Kelly and Paul had come to dinner and Maryellen did, too. It had been a pleasant day, a family day, full of laughter and warmth.
This year, Kelly and Paul were driving to his parents’ home, Dan was gone and the twenty-pound turkey had been replaced by a small turkey breast and a store-bought pumpkin pie.
Grace found it impossible to contain her emotions. The house had never felt so big and empty. Sensing her mood, Buttercup stayed close to Grace as she wandered aimlessly from room to room.
Shortly after she’d filed for divorce, Grace had cleaned out Dan’s side of the closet. Although she’d searched his clothes before, desperate for some hint as to why her husband had disappeared and where, she’d gone through each shirt and pants pocket a second and even a third time. Then she’d folded up his clothes and set them aside to donate to charity. They were neatly piled in bags and boxes, which she’d left in one of the empty bedrooms for the moment.
The phone rang, and glancing at her watch, Grace saw that it was barely seven.
“Hello,” she said, wondering who would phone this early.
A burst of static answered her.
“Hello,” she said again, more loudly this time. An uneasy feeling came over her when the line was suddenly disconnected. She hung up but kept her hand on the phone for a few seconds. How…strange. This was just the kind of stunt Dan would pull. Dear God in heaven, could it have been him?
Was he, too, thinking about their Thanksgiving just a year ago? Perhaps he missed her; perhaps he’d read about the divorce in the paper’s legal announcements. Dear God, this was crazin
ess! Sheer absurdity. She had to let go of Dan, she had to stop thinking about him. Her marriage was over, and she had to move on to the next stage of her life.
Maryellen got to the house around noon. By then, Grace had the potatoes on to boil and the turkey breast was baking, browning nicely. She planned to mash the potatoes with garlic and serve broccoli and a small salad. “It smells good in here,” her daughter said as she let herself in the kitchen door.
She set a small pot of bronze chrysanthemums in the middle of the table and kissed Grace on the cheek.
“I made that orange-cranberry relish you like so much,” Grace said.
“Oh, Mom, that’s great. It just wouldn’t seem like Thanksgiving without your relish.” She opened the refrigerator and peeked inside. “My goodness, how much did you make?”
“Just what the recipe calls for.” Maryellen’s question was yet another reminder that it was only the two of them this year. “Take whatever you want home with you.”
“Okay.” Maryellen moved restlessly around the kitchen. “Do you need me to do anything?”
“Everything’s pretty much under control.”
Her daughter walked down the hallway to what had once been her bedroom. She returned a couple of minutes later. “I see you’ve got Dad’s stuff packed up.”
Tears clogged Grace’s throat. She nodded. “The divorce was final on Monday.”
“I know.” Maryellen gently squeezed her arm. “How are you handling this?”
“About the same as you did when your divorce came through.”
Maryellen sighed deeply. “That bad?”
Grace looked away, determined not to allow this day of giving thanks to become a day of grief and anger.
The phone rang and Grace motioned for Maryellen to answer, fearing that if she spoke now, her voice would crack.
“Hello,” Maryellen said, then frowned. “Hello? Hello?” After a moment, she hung up the receiver. “That was weird. There was no one at the other end.”
“I got a call like that earlier,” Grace said. “No one answered then, either.”
Maryellen stared at her with stricken eyes. “Do you…think it was Dad?”
Grace had already guessed exactly that, but she had no way of knowing for sure. Cutting back on expenses had been important, and soon after Dan’s disappearance, she’d cancelled Caller ID and the other extras the phone company offered.
“Why would he do such a thing?” Maryellen demanded, sounding angry now. “Why can’t he just stay out of our lives instead of playing these sick games?”
“I suppose he misses us,” Grace said. It was the only reason she could think of.
“If he misses us so much, why doesn’t he come home?” Maryellen shouted. “I’m going to tell him that.” She reached for the phone and started punching in numbers.
“Who are you calling?” Grace asked.
“Star 69.”
“It won’t work,” Grace said, her voice tight. “I couldn’t afford all those extras…. Dan must’ve known that. He must’ve figured out that I wouldn’t be able to trace the call.” She closed her eyes in a futile effort to regain her emotional balance. “Sometimes I think I hate him for doing this to us.”
“Mom, it’s all right. We can’t let him ruin our day….”
“Your father and I were married for more than thirty-five years.” Her legs felt shaky and she sank into a kitchen chair.
The phone rang again.
“Don’t answer it!” Grace said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction. Let it ring, just let it ring.”
On the fifth ring, the answering machine came on, and once more the only sound they heard was static.
Maryellen pulled out a chair and sat down across from Grace. She took her mother’s hands, clasping them tightly. “I don’t know why Dad left,” she whispered, “but whatever the reason, it wasn’t because of anything you did or didn’t do. You’re a wonderful mother and you were a good wife.”
Grace hung her head, watching as her tears dripped onto the quilted place mat. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She wished she could believe Maryellen, but she didn’t think men walked away from long-term marriages if they were content.
She sniffled and made an effort to put the phone calls out of her mind. Maryellen released her hands, passing her a tissue to wipe her eyes.
“I wish Cliff Harding was here,” Maryellen said forcefully. “That would shake Dad up, wouldn’t it? It’d serve him right if a man answered the phone.”
Grace smiled shakily. “That it would.”
The potato water had begun to boil over, and Grace leaped up to turn down the burner. She used those few seconds to compose herself and when she returned to the table, she was smiling.
“Mom,” Maryellen said hesitantly. “What about you and Mr. Harding? Are the two of you going to start dating now that the divorce is final?”
Grace had been thinking about this for weeks, unable to arrive at a firm decision. In fact, she’d put Cliff off once already. “Probably not,” she told her daughter.
“You should,” Maryellen urged. “I like him. I know Kelly might have a hard time accepting another man in your life, but she’ll get used to it.”
“It isn’t because of what Kelly will say—or you or anyone else, for that matter,” Grace confessed. “Don’t misunderstand me, I like Cliff, but I’m not ready to enter the dating world.”
“But Mom…”
“It’s too soon. I still feel too raw. I thought…I hoped I’d find some closure when the divorce became final, but I can see now that isn’t going to happen. I have to know, Maryellen. I need answers. Where’s your father? Why couldn’t he tell me where he went or why? What deep, dark secret is he hiding from us?”
Grace knew very well that life didn’t always supply the answers. Perhaps one day she’d find peace. But for now there was none. Instead, the uncertainty and the anger and grief raged inside her, as strong as they’d been the day her husband disappeared. Not that her life was devoid of happiness or that she didn’t still have plenty to be thankful for. She had her daughters, her friends, her job, but—
“You have to, Mom. You have to.”
Her daughter said this with such urgency Grace didn’t know how to respond.
“If you don’t, I’m afraid you’ll end up like me.”
“And what exactly is wrong with you?” Grace asked sharply.
“Look at me!” Maryellen cried. “I’m thirty-five and I’m terrified of falling in love again. I don’t trust my own judgment. I practically have a panic attack if a man wants to kiss me. I’m so afraid of what might happen that I refuse to allow any man close to me. I look at Kelly and Paul, and they seem so happy and so normal. Why couldn’t my marriage have been like that?”
“Oh, Maryellen…” Grace had no idea what to tell her daughter. Maryellen so rarely spoke of her marriage that she felt at a loss as to how to comfort her.
“I love little Tyler so much. But I’m never going to have a child of my own.”
“Don’t say that. You’re still young,” Grace insisted.
Maryellen shook her head. “Don’t let your divorce do to you what mine did to me,” she repeated. “Please, Mom. You have a lot of good years ahead of you. If you get another chance at love, take it! Promise me you’ll take it—and that you’ll be happy. Otherwise I don’t think I’ll ever find any kind of contentment myself.”
Thanksgiving with her mother had been one of the most disturbing days of her life, Maryellen thought as she opened the gallery first thing Friday morning. She still felt emotionally drained from it. If she could’ve taken today off, she would have. But she expected to be swamped with customers in what was traditionally the biggest shopping day of the year.
With so many people stopping by the gallery, it was almost two before she had a chance to eat her leftover-turkey sandwich. The only reason she had a moment to herself then was due to her assistant, Lois Habber-smith, who’d agreed to work the afternoon with her. The gallery’s
absentee owners, the Webbers, lived in California and trusted Maryellen to handle all aspects of the business.
Sitting on a stool in the back room, Maryellen crossed her legs and had just taken the first bite of her sandwich when Jon Bowman entered the room.
“Jon…” She hadn’t expected him. Already her heart was hammering wildly. He’d phoned twice since the Halloween party and she’d managed to avoid speaking to him both times.
“Still running away?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.
He grinned, letting her know she hadn’t fooled him. “Could you use some more pictures?”
“Yes,” she said, eager for as much of his work as he was willing to let her have. “That last group completely sold out.”
“Can I get them to you this evening?”
She wondered why he hadn’t brought them now. “Yes, that would be fine. What time?”
“Seven.”
The gallery closed at six. “I can wait for you here,” she told him. She’d hang the photographs right away so they’d be ready for sale tomorrow.
“I want you to pick them up at my house,” he said matter-of-factly. “I promise you, the drive will be worth your while.”
Maryellen frowned. How clever of him to make sure she didn’t have a previous commitment. “I’d prefer to have you bring them here.” That was how their arrangement had worked in the past.
“I know you would, but not this time. I’m making dinner for you. If you want the pictures you’ll be at my place at seven.”
She started to argue, to tell him she wouldn’t be blackmailed, but he didn’t give her the opportunity. He simply walked away. If she was going to argue, she’d have to follow him into the crowded gallery, and he knew she wouldn’t do that.
Twice that same afternoon, Maryellen had inquiries about Jon’s work, and she found herself promising they’d be available the next day. His pictures sold almost as fast as they appeared on the walls. If she wanted more, he’d made it plain she’d have to come and get them herself.
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