Lost and Found in Cedar Cove is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books eBook Original
Copyright © 2013 by Debbie Macomber
Excerpt from Rose Harbor in Bloom by Debbie Macomber © 2013 by Debbie Macomber
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-8041-7786-3
Cover design: Belina Huey
Cover image: Artazum/Shutterstock
www.ballantinebooks.com
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Other Books by This Author
About the Author
Excerpt from Rose Harbor in Bloom
Chapter One
Jo Marie Rose had an advantage over most widows. Seeing that she’d lived a good portion of her adult life as a single woman, she was accustomed to taking care of herself. Still, there were times when she would have welcomed a man’s help. Welcomed a man. She missed Paul dreadfully, but she’d married him knowing he was a soldier and the risk that involved. Even now, knowing what she did, she would always be grateful to have been loved by Paul Rose.
Rose Harbor Inn had become her sanctuary, a safe harbor for her and for Rover, the stray dog she’d adopted. Although she’d owned the inn for only a few months, she had already compiled a long list of upgrades and changes she wished to make. Unfortunately, many of these improvements were above and beyond her limited capabilities.
That was where Mark Taylor came into the picture. He was a local handyman, and if she were to describe him, the first thing that readily came to mind was prickly. To say he was a man of few words was to say a mime talked too much. Usually he answered with one or two words, as if any question she were to ask irritated him. Mr. Personality he was not.
Jo Marie was willing to put up with his gruff ways because he did a good job, and at an acceptable price. The problem was that Mark had a habit of taking three times longer than necessary to finish a project. As he was keen to remind her, others had hired him, too. She wasn’t his only customer, and he’d finish in a reasonable amount of time. To be fair, he generally did. What Jo Marie needed, he often reminded her, was a bit more patience.
Recently, however, Jo Marie had discovered a secret that had Mark stopping by to work on her project a bit more routinely.
Cookies.
Mark loved cookies, and she baked a batch every other day or so for her guests. It’d taken her only a short while to recognize that Mark tended to show up for work on baking days.
This morning it was peanut-butter cookies, one of his favorites. Right on cue, her doorbell chimed. Ever at the ready, Rover immediately barked and raced to the door.
Sure enough, it was Mark. “I got your message,” he said, sounding none too pleased. He made it seem as if the voice mail she’d left him had upset his all-important schedule.
“Good.”
“What do you need this time?” he asked.
Rover stood on his hind legs and placed his front paws on Mark’s thigh, looking to be acknowledged. Mark grudgingly patted the mutt’s head and then, scowling, added, “Down.”
Rover immediately obeyed.
“I’d like to remove part of the lawn for a rose garden.” She wanted a gazebo built as well but didn’t want to overwhelm him with too much at once. “I mentioned the project earlier,” she reminded him.
Mark frowned. “I’ve got other projects right now.”
“I know,” she said, doing her best to remain patient and calm. She was forced to bite down on her tongue to keep from asking about the cradle he’d been working on for weeks. When she saw how lovely it was—and it truly was—he said he’d gotten it in his head to build it, although it wasn’t a commissioned piece and he didn’t know anyone in need of a cradle. Far be it from her to tear him away for a paying job.
Mark must have smelled the cookies, because he moved into the kitchen without waiting for an invitation.
“Coffee?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind a couple of those cookies.”
Before she handed over the goods, she wanted it understood she had a stipulation to go along with this project. “I have a deadline for the garden.”
Mark shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not good with deadlines.”
She ignored that, poured his coffee, and brought down a plate but didn’t hand over the cookies. “Peggy Beldon suggested I have an open house, and I was thinking it would be nice to have it in late spring.”
“How late?”
“I don’t know yet. End of May or so. Can you do it?”
Mark’s gaze focused on the peanut-butter cookies cooling on wire racks along the countertop. “It shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You’re sure about that?” He might not find planting a rose garden particularly significant, but she did. This garden would be a tribute to her husband, to Paul. While it might not mean anything more than a job to Mark, it was important to her, and his cooperation in this would be greatly appreciated.
Mark scowled and shrugged.
Jo Marie set two cookies on the plate and brought it over to the table, where he’d plopped himself down. He’d eaten both by the time she returned with her own coffee and sat across from him. Rover curled up at her feet.
“When can you get started?” she asked, unwilling to be put off.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Where do you want the rose garden?” he asked.
“I’d like to have my guests view it as soon as they pull into the driveway.” That made sense to Jo Marie.
“You’d better show me.”
“Okay, fine.” Reaching for a sweater, she led the way outside. The morning was dark and gloomy, the skies overcast with thick slate-gray clouds that threatened more than the customary March drizzle.
Standing on the top porch step, she pointed in the direction that seemed the best choice to her. The chill got to her, and she wrapped the sweater more tightly around herself.
“The drainage there might be a problem.”
Jo Marie hadn’t thought about that. She’d assumed roses would bloom wherever they were planted.
“Where else would work?”
Alongside the shed, she guessed, but she’d hoped to have the gazebo close by, and she’d rather it not be close to any of the outbuildings. “Around the other side of the inn, I suppose.” She wasn’t keen on that idea, although it was an option.
“Let me check it out.”
“Okay.” She followed Mark as he led the way down the steps and along the pathway that meandered around the inn. Rover dutifully followed.
With his hands braced against his hips, Mark surveyed the area. “I’m going to need to do a bit of research first.”
“For what?” This sounded like a delay tactic to her.
“I want to read up on roses, learn what I can about planting and growing them before I start tearing up the yard. Then you and I can decide where would be the best spot for your rose garden.”
He came across as practical, and she didn’t have an argument. “Okay, but I want to remind you I�
��d like this done fairly quickly.”
“If you want to hire someone else, that’s fine by me. I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises.”
“Okay, okay,” she muttered and shook her head. Oh my, he was in a rare mood this morning. She led the way back into the house. “How much do you figure this will cost?” she asked, reveling in the welcome warmth of the house.
“That depends,” Mark said.
To show good faith, she replenished his plate with two additional cookies. “Just a rough estimate is enough.”
“I’ll be fair.”
“I know you will,” she said, sitting down across from him. She was half tempted to offer to pay him in cookies, but he might take her seriously, in which case she’d be baking for him for the next several years.
“What do you want me to do first? Put together a bid or research where best to plant the garden?”
It wasn’t an easy choice. “Do whatever will get my rose garden in by Memorial Day,” she suggested.
“Fair enough.” He quickly ate the two additional cookies and emptied his coffee mug. “I’d better get started, then.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll head down to the library and get a few gardening books and get back to you by the end of the week.”
“Sounds good.”
Standing, he carried his mug to the sink. “Those are some of your best cookies yet.”
A compliment? From Mark? This was worthy of a reward. “Why don’t I give you a few to take with you?”
He almost smiled. “I won’t turn them down.”
Unable to hide her amusement, she looked down at Rover, but her faithful companion wasn’t under the table. Nor was he curled up in front of the refrigerator.
“Did Rover come in with us?” He followed Jo Marie everywhere. It wasn’t like him to stay outside, especially when it threatened rain.
“I didn’t notice.”
Jo Marie hadn’t, either. She opened the door off the kitchen and called for him.
“Rover.”
Nothing.
“Rover,” she tried again.
Nothing.
“He can’t have gotten far,” Mark said. He shouted out her pet’s name himself and didn’t get a response.
“I’m sure he must be around here,” Jo Marie insisted. The inn was his home. They were good for each other, kept each other company. With this inn they’d both found a safe harbor, a place of healing. She’d come to rely on Rover, on his presence, his protection. It would sound half crazy to explain to anyone, in particular to Mark, that she genuinely felt Paul had sent Rover to her as a friend and constant companion.
For a long time, Jo Marie had toyed with changing his name. Rover was the name the animal shelter had given him. It was clear when he was brought in that he’d been on his own, roving for a good long while. It was such an ordinary name, though, so bland. Over the last few months she’d scoured pet-name books and come up with several unique and funny names, like Soldier (Paul would have loved that), or Wilson, after one of her favorite Seahawks players. Any number of good, solid dog names came to her, but none suited him better than just plain Rover.
Together with Mark, she searched the entire property, and Rover was nowhere to be found.
“Has he done this before?” Mark asked.
“Never.”
“He’ll be back. He knows where his dog dish is.”
If Mark thought he was helping, he wasn’t. “I want to find my dog,” she said, in danger of losing her composure. She hurried to the end of the driveway and looked both ways up and down the street.
Rover was nowhere in sight.
Mark waited for her on the porch steps. It had started to rain in thick sheets, but Jo Marie was oblivious to the hammering downfall.
“Don’t look so worried, he’ll be back,” Mark said again.
Jo Marie ignored that and raced inside the house for something warmer and her umbrella. “You don’t understand. It isn’t like him to disappear like this.”
“There’s no need for you to panic.”
“Yes, there is,” she snapped.
“I’ve had pets,” he challenged. “They like to explore. You’re overreacting.”
“I’m not!” she insisted. “Rover doesn’t leave the property. This is his home now, and he knows that, and furthermore, he’s more than a pet to me.”
She quickly jerked her arms into the sleeves of her rain jacket. Generally she avoided an umbrella, but the rain was coming down too heavy now.
“You aren’t seriously considering going out in this weather?”
“I told you I need to find my dog.” She wouldn’t explain why she was so strongly attached to him because Mark would find her fanciful ideas amusing. Too many factors about Rover convinced her that this was no ordinary pet.
First and foremost, Rover had chosen her and revealed an uncanny ability to comfort her. It was almost as if he could read her mind. From the moment she’d brought him home from the shelter he’d been by her side. He sensed her moods, and when she was especially sad, he would place his chin on her knee and look up at her with dark, soulful eyes as if to assure her she would laugh again, love again. Which was why she was convinced that he was a special gift from Paul.
“I’ll drive around the neighborhood and see what I find,” Mark offered.
Jo Marie appreciated the effort. “Thank you.”
“I’ll meet you back here in twenty minutes.”
Jo Marie checked her watch. “Okay.”
Despite the rain, she took off, her steps filled with purpose. Rover had never done anything like this before, and she couldn’t imagine what had possessed him to leave. If the sun was shining and he’d been chasing butterflies, she might have understood it. But in the middle of a wretched March rainstorm? It didn’t make the least bit of sense.
Twenty minutes later, Jo Marie returned to the house with her feet drenched. She should have changed her shoes, but, filled with a sense of urgency, she hadn’t wanted to take the time.
Mark stood alone on the porch, his hands buried deep inside his jean pockets.
“Did you see him?” Jo Marie called out as she hurried toward the inn. Despite the evidence, she had to ask.
Mark shook his head. “No sign of him anywhere. You?”
Jo Marie shook her head. The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened.
Mark frowned at her and then growled, “You’re soaked to the skin.”
“I’m fine.”
“Get inside. Rover’s been a stray. He’s used to being free to go where he pleases. He’s smart enough to know what to do to stay safe and dry. Eventually he’ll find his way back. Like I said, he knows where his food bowl is filled.”
“I’m not giving up until I find Rover.” If this was Mark’s idea of reassurance, then she’d rather he left right now.
“Rover knows his way around town.”
“He knows the route I walk him and little else. He’s probably lost and confused.” Part of her realized that the way she connected Rover with Paul made losing him feel as if she were losing Paul all over again. It sounded crazy, something a psychologist would want to analyze in great depth, but she couldn’t help it. Despite her best efforts, her voice trembled.
“You need to get warm.” Mark practically dragged her inside the inn and went directly into the kitchen and poured her some coffee.
Trembling now with cold and dread, she willingly accepted the mug. He didn’t take one for himself. Instead, he paced her kitchen as if unsure what to do next.
Neither of them spoke.
Jo Marie sniffled in an effort to hold back the emotion that threatened to spill over at any moment. She started to shake, but not from any chill.
“I can’t lose Rover,” she whispered, utterly miserable. “I simply can’t.”
“Give it time,” Mark insisted. “It’s only been less than an hour.”
“I told you before, Rover is more than a pet.” Her voice wobbled lik
e a drunk attempting to walk a straight line. “He’s gone, I feel it in my gut …” She refused to accept that, refused to believe she would lose him, too.
“Maybe his time with you is over and he’s ready to move on,” Mark offered. “I’ve found it’s better not to get too attached.”
At any other time his words would have struck her as tremendously revealing, but all she could think about was Rover lost in the storm.
“Don’t say anything more, please; you’re not helping.”
Mark shuffled his feet a couple of times, and then, as if he didn’t have anything more to add, he walked out the door.
Not knowing what else to do, Jo Marie went to the front window and watched Mark drive away. She shouldn’t have expected anything more of him. The moment she fell apart emotionally, he was at a complete loss. His sole thought was to escape.
To expect Mark to be her friend was asking too much of him. All at once she was angry with him … angry with the world. She’d lost so much already, and to lose Rover was more than she could take.
Never one to give in easily to bouts of weeping, Jo Marie no longer had the internal fortitude to hold them back. With tears raining down her cheeks, she went into her bedroom, stripped out of her wet clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped inside. Once under the hot spray, she let the sobs come, choking on what she was convinced was another hit, another loss she would be forced to face and absorb. She wasn’t going to stop looking. She couldn’t and wouldn’t until she found him.
Chapter Two
Unable to sit still and do nothing, Jo Marie dressed and drove into town, parking at the library. Grace Harding, the head librarian, glanced up from where she stood at the front desk.
She must have immediately sensed something was drastically wrong because she asked, “Jo Marie, what’s happened? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”
“I have,” Jo Marie choked out. “It’s Rover. He’s missing.” She extended her hands to her friend, needing advice and comfort and something to hold on to, someone to hold her together.
Gripping both of Jo Marie’s hands, Grace asked, “When did you last see him?”
“The thing is, I don’t know. Rover followed Mark and me outside. We went out to select an area to plant the rose garden. You know how he barely leaves my side. Rover was with me then, but a few minutes after we were inside, talking details, I noticed he wasn’t in the house. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of to look and he’s … gone. Vanished. I can’t imagine where he went or why.” Again, her voice did that wobbling thing as if she were on the verge of having an emotional breakdown. Which, as a matter of fact, she was.
Lost and Found in Cedar Cove (Short Story) Page 1
