“Good. Jack was there.”
Her husband wasn’t supposed to tell her who was or wasn’t at his AA meetings, but there was little in life they didn’t share.
“Olivia and Jack are still in the honeymoon phase,” he said, sounding like a serious student of the stages of marriage. “All he could talk about was Olivia.”
“It’s refreshing to find a man who’s madly in love with his wife, don’t you think?”
Bob laughed. “That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one.”
“I like Olivia.”
“So do I, but those two are about as different as two people can be.”
“Yes, but they’re well-suited, too. Jack makes her laugh. And Olivia brings balance into his life.”
“He cleaned out his car for her.”
“Jack?” This was a noteworthy event. Jack’s car was notoriously cluttered with fast-food cartons, old newspapers and what-have-you. For years Peggy had made a joke of it.
“Apparently Olivia’s something of a neat freak. Everything in its place and a place for everything.”
Peggy frowned. Jack was a born slob. The only thing he’d ever organized in his life was the front page of the newspaper.
“It won’t be long before Jack starts complaining,” Bob said knowledgeably.
“About what?”
Bob sighed as if the answer should be obvious. “Olivia, of course. Mark my words, Peggy. Jack will give this marriage his best shot, but I don’t think he’ll be able to maintain Olivia’s high standards.”
Peggy was not amused. “That’s the most negative thing I’ve heard you say in months.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I think the world of Jack—and of Olivia—but I can see the writing on the wall with those two.”
Peggy was annoyed by his attitude. But before she could chastise Bob, he continued his discussion of the differences between Jack and Olivia.
“She’s even got him eating healthy meals. She actually made grilled tofu and eggplant—eggplant—last week. I burst out laughing when Jack told me. Can you imagine a meat-and-potatoes man like Jack eating tofu and eggplant?”
“I’ll bet it was fabulous.” Peggy was a big fan of both and had cooked tofu a number of times. Bob had eaten it, not realizing what it was, and complimented her on dinner. She’d pass along a couple of her recipes to Olivia and explain that the secret was not to say a word.
“He made some excuse as soon as he could and drove to Burger King for a Double Whopper with cheese.”
“Shame on him,” Peggy murmured, although she smiled at the thought of Jack rushing out the back door, desperate for a fast-food fix.
Bob brought her the coffee in a mug. No sooner had he handed it to her than the lights flickered. “This is turning into some storm. What did the weatherman have to say?”
“I switched channels before the weather came on.”
Bob scowled up at the light fixtures. “I’d better find a flashlight before we lose electricity altogether.”
Peggy sipped her coffee and set the mug on the counter. “That’s not a bad idea.”
She followed her husband into the mudroom, where he opened a cupboard door and peered inside. “Have you heard anything on the Russell investigation?” she asked.
Bob glanced over his shoulder as if her question had startled him. “No. What makes you ask?”
“No reason. I was just thinking about everything this afternoon. Doesn’t it seem mighty convenient that Dan Sherman killed himself when he did?”
Her husband didn’t answer.
“I can’t help wondering about that.”
The lights flickered again, and this time went out. The room was pitch-black and silent without the background noise of the TV and the hum of the fridge.
“Bob?”
“I’m here.”
He reached for her, his hand clasping her elbow.
There was a pounding in the distance. “What’s that?” Peggy asked, jolted by the unexpectedness of it.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“I do.”
Her husband switched on the flashlight and led the way back into the kitchen. The pounding was unmistakable now. Someone was at their front door.
“I hear it,” Bob said in a husky whisper.
Panic swelled in Peggy’s throat. This was like history repeating itself. “Don’t answer it,” she whispered fearfully.
Bob ignored her. With the flashlight guiding him, he left her and walked into the other room.
Peggy wanted to cry out, to remind him that it’d been a night like this when Maxwell Russell had come to their door. Their lives hadn’t been the same since.
“Bob! No!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Peggy.”
She moved behind him, trembling as he released the dead bolt. Her breath seemed to catch in her lungs as he opened the door and flashed the light on their unforeseen guest.
Hannah Russell stood drenched and shivering on the other side of the screen door.
“Hannah,” Peggy cried and stepped around her husband to open the screen and let the woman in. “Are you all right?”
“I got lost,” she whispered. “I thought I could find your place again on my own, but I was lost, and the rain was coming down so hard and I was sure I was going to drive off the road.”
Peggy couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t phoned. “Come in,” she urged. Bob took Hannah’s coat and hung it on the hall tree to dry.
It was all Peggy could do to hide her distress when she saw how thin and pale the young woman was. “Come inside where it’s warm,” she insisted, taking Hannah’s arm. “When was the last time you had anything to eat?”
“This morning—I think. I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.”
The lights flickered and came back on, and Peggy sighed with relief.
Bob clicked off the flashlight.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Hannah mumbled. “I told myself I wouldn’t, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You made the right decision. Bob, bring in her suitcase. I’ll put on some soup. Hannah, you go take a hot shower and get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”
“I can stay?”
“Of course you can stay with us.”
Tears spilled from the young woman’s eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“There’s no need to thank us,” Peggy said, escorting Hannah to the bathroom down the hall, where there were plenty of thick, fresh towels.
When she returned it was to find her husband studying her. He didn’t look nearly as certain about this as Peggy did.
“We’ll settle everything in the morning,” she promised.
Bob’s eyes burned into hers. “That’s what you said the night Max Russell arrived.”
Seventeen
Rachel Pendergast checked her afternoon appointment schedule at Get Nailed as she ate her Weight Watchers frozen entrée. Jolene Peyton was down for a haircut. Rachel remembered the young girl from previous appointments. She recalled Jolene’s father, too, and his uneasiness about being in an establishment frequented by females. She found his attitude fairly typical of single fathers.
Jolene was a motherless child and she’d made it clear that she was eager to have her father remarry. Bruce Peyton’s wife had been killed in a car accident two years ago while driving to pick up Jolene from her kindergarten class. From what Rachel had heard, several hours had passed before anyone remembered that Jolene was still at the school. Not surprisingly, the seven-year-old was terrified of being left behind.
Despite Jolene’s effort to push Rachel and her father together, Bruce Peyton amused Rachel more than he attracted her. While she enjoyed the child’s company, Rachel felt that getting involved with a man so obviously in love with his dead wife had virtually no chance of developing into a healthy relationship.
Just after four, Jolene skipped into the salon, as relaxed in Get Nailed as her own bedroom. “Hi, Rachel,” she said, pi
gtails bouncing.
The child must be going into third grade this year; to Rachel, she seemed younger than her age—again, not surprising. “Are you ready to get your hair cut?” she asked, taking out a miniature version of the plastic cape.
Bruce followed his daughter into the salon but didn’t show any of her enthusiasm. He nodded briefly in Rachel’s direction, then glanced nervously around as if he suspected someone would wrestle him to the ground and dye his hair blue.
“Here you go,” Rachel said, turning the chair for Jolene to climb into. She adjusted the cape and secured the clasp.
With practiced ease Jolene flipped her pigtails over her shoulder. “I want you to cut it just like you did before.”
“Ah, a woman who knows her own mind,” Rachel murmured. She released the bands holding Jolene’s hair and carefully ran a brush through it. To her surprise Bruce didn’t take a seat or wander into the mall the way he had on previous visits. Instead he stood about two feet behind Rachel, watching every move.
“Do you want to sit down, Bruce?” she asked. He was making her uncomfortable, standing there like that. After cutting Jolene’s hair for the last few months, she would’ve thought he’d trust her with his daughter.
“Dad’s afraid I’m going to talk,” Jolene piped up.
“Jolene!” Bruce growled out a warning.
“He told me I’m not supposed to say anything about you marrying him.”
Rachel jerked around in time to see Bruce throw back his head and groan aloud.
“I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with that,” Rachel said, hoping to reassure him.
“You already met someone?” Jolene sounded horrified. Her big dark eyes widened with dismay.
“No, but—”
“She’s going to the auction, though,” Terri called out from the nail station on the far side of the salon. “We all are.”
“What auction?”
“The Dog and Bachelor Auction being put on by the animal shelter.” Terri pointed to the poster on the wall near the front door. “Everyone in town is talking about it.”
“I’m saving every penny of my tip money,” Jeannie, another nail tech, chimed in. “This could be my last chance.”
“I’m more interested in the dogs myself,” Rachel said for Bruce’s benefit. She could just imagine what he thought of all this chatter about men.
As if the conversation had suddenly made Bruce feel awkward, he walked over to the waiting area and claimed a chair. From the corner of her eye, Rachel saw him reach for a magazine and pretend to read.
“What’s a Dog and Bachelor Auction?” Jolene asked, cocking her head to one side. Her gaze met Rachel’s in the big mirror.
“It’s a fun event where women make bids to adopt a special pet and a date with a bachelor.”
“What’s a bachelor?”
“A man who isn’t married,” Rachel explained.
“My dad’s not married anymore.”
“Hey, Bruce,” Terri shouted. “Have you signed up for the auction?”
Bruce lowered the magazine and shook his head. “Not on your life.”
“Why not?” Terri pressed. “It’s for charity, you know.”
“I’m not interested in dating again, thank you very much.” His steely-eyed look dared his daughter to comment.
“You said I could have a new mommy,” Jolene reminded him, yelling it across the salon.
“Someday,” he muttered.
“But that’s what you say when you really mean no.” Jolene’s face fell. “You promised.” The child seemed about to break into tears. “I’m the only girl in my class without a mommy and you said, you promised…”
Every eye in the salon turned to glare at Bruce Peyton.
Feeling sorry for him, Rachel helped the girl out of the chair and led her to the shampoo sink. She hoped that with a bit of distraction, Jolene would forget about her father’s promises, as well as the Dog and Bachelor Auction.
When Rachel finished shampooing Jolene’s hair, she noticed that Bruce had left the salon. She guessed he’d decided to wander around the shopping center, after all. That was probably for the best, considering the grilling he’d gotten earlier.
“Who else is going to be in the Back-lor auction?” Jolene asked once Rachel had her back in the chair.
“Navy men,” Terri supplied gleefully. “An entire aircraft carrier full of sailors arrived last month and I hear several of the crew have volunteered.”
“For the sake of charity,” Rachel reminded her friends.
“I don’t care why they signed up,” Jeannie said, filing her customer’s nails. “They’re fair game.”
Her friends’ enthusiasm for this auction astonished Rachel. Frankly, she didn’t hold out much hope of meeting anyone through a charity function. Yes, it was a clever way to raise funds, but as for meeting men, she’d been disappointed so many times she’d given up hope. Her thirtieth birthday had come and gone with barely a ripple of the calendar page. Her desire to settle into a comfortable married life was still unfulfilled, and Rachel had given up looking. If she was meant to find a husband, then it would happen. In the meantime she was content.
“Would you pay money to go out with my dad if he was in the auction?” Jolene asked as Rachel sectioned the youngster’s hair.
She considered the question and shrugged. She didn’t want to disappoint the little girl, but she didn’t think Bruce was ready for another relationship. “I don’t know.”
Jolene frowned as though puzzled by Rachel’s answer. “Don’t you like my dad?”
“I don’t know your father well enough to say if I do or not,” she said honestly, hoping to ward off Jolene’s persistence.
“But if you bought my dad at the auction, you’d know him.”
Rachel finished sectioning Jolene’s hair and reached for her scissors. She decided it was time to have a short heart-to-heart with the little girl. “Sweetheart, it embarrasses your father when you talk about him remarrying.”
Jolene blinked. “That’s what he said, too—that it embarrasses him. But he wouldn’t say why.”
“I don’t think your father’s ready to get involved with anyone. He loved your mother very much and I think maybe he doesn’t want to fall in love again.”
“I loved her, too, but I want a mommy,” the girl said plaintively.
“Maybe it’s just a friend you need.”
“I have friends but they’re my age and—” She paused and seemed to contemplate Rachel’s words. “Could you be my friend?”
Rachel smiled. She thought it was a good idea for them both. Jolene was a motherless child and she was a woman without family. “I’d like that a lot.”
“I would, too.”
Rachel needed to talk to Bruce, make sure he sanctioned this. She wanted it understood, however, that she wasn’t pressuring him into any kind of relationship. This was between her and Jolene. She would enjoy playing a role in the little girl’s life, but only if he had no objections.
Just as she was finishing up Jolene’s haircut, Bruce returned. He walked over to Valerie, who ran the reception desk, and pulled his wallet out of his rear pocket.
“Hi, Daddy,” Jolene called out.
His expression softened as he turned to face his daughter. “All right, all right, ladies,” he said and shook his head, looking chagrined. “You talked me into it. I signed up for the Dog and Bachelor Auction.”
“You did?” Terri was so excited she nearly leaped up from her table.
“Great,” Jeannie cried, equally thrilled.
Bruce glanced at Rachel, obviously anticipating her reaction. She nodded, letting him know she approved, but she hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed when she didn’t bid on him.
Eighteen
During the summer months, Charlotte’s favorite night of the week was Thursday. For a number of years now, the Chamber of Commerce had sponsored Concerts on the Cove, bringing in a variety of free entertainment, from pop groups to
jazz quartets. Tonight was an Irish band, with fiddles and one of those Celtic drums—Charlotte couldn’t remember what they were called. The concerts brought almost the entire town together once a week, as young and old alike crowded the small waterfront park, enjoying the festive atmosphere.
Before he came by to collect her, Ben had bought their dinner, teriyaki chicken and rice from her favorite take-out restaurant. Walking hand in hand, he carried their folding chairs, while she held on to their food.
“Oh, good. We have our spot,” she said, looking at the place under the mountain ash where they usually sat. Some couples shared a song or a favorite movie; Charlotte and Ben had their own patch of lawn in Waterfront Park.
Ben was so thoughtful and considerate toward her, Charlotte mused as he set up the chairs and insisted she sit down. And she loved his old-fashioned manners—the way he held doors and stood when she entered a room. The world didn’t have much time or interest in those niceties anymore, but Charlotte was of a generation that still appreciated them.
They settled in their spot. It was still early, but they always arrived a good hour before the concert began in order to secure their special place.
“Oh, look,” she said with the take-out container balanced on her lap. “There’s Corrie McAfee. I don’t think I’ve seen her at any of the concerts before.”
Corrie glanced around as if she wasn’t sure where to go.
“Corrie,” Charlotte said, waving her arm. “Over here.”
Corrie headed eagerly in Charlotte’s direction. “Hello, Mrs. Jefferson.”
“Call me Charlotte. You know my friend Ben Rhodes, don’t you?”
Although he had his meal in his lap, Ben stood. Charlotte wouldn’t have expected anything less.
“This is your first time here, isn’t it?” Charlotte asked. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” She wanted Corrie to know she was welcome. She hadn’t had much opportunity to meet the McAfees. They were still considered new to the community, although they’d lived in Cedar Cove for several years. As a private investigator, Roy had probably learned more about this town and its people than he’d ever cared to know. It was important, Charlotte felt, to bring the couple into the fold.
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series Page 105
