The door slid open and Cliff stuck his head in. “Any change?” he asked.
“None that I can see.” Olivia had been asleep the entire time. “Where’s Jack?”
“He met Justine in the hallway. He’s giving her an update.”
Grace would be forever grateful that Justine had gone to her mother’s house yesterday morning. It might well have meant the difference between life and death.
“Charlotte and Ben are here, too,” Cliff said. Olivia’s mother had spent the morning at the hospital, along with Ben. They’d gone home for a few hours but were obviously back.
The private room was small, and when Justine and Jack came inside a few minutes later, Grace decided to take a break. She needed a cup of coffee and some fresh air. Cliff sat with Charlotte and Ben in the waiting area, watching television.
“I’m going down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee,” she announced.
Charlotte, who was contentedly knitting, was the only one who seemed to hear. “Oh, you’re up,” she said. “I glanced in earlier but I didn’t want to wake you.”
Ben and Cliff were both concentrating on the last few minutes of the Seattle Seahawks football game.
“Does anyone need anything?” she asked.
Charlotte looked up from her knitting again. “I’m fine, Grace, thank you.”
“Cliff? Ben?”
Her husband smiled briefly in her direction. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Me, too,” Ben returned without moving his eyes from the screen.
Cliff had told her that this game would determine the team’s ranking in the playoffs later in the season. Grace liked football well enough, but at the moment it seemed irrelevant to her. She was too concerned about Olivia.
When she got to the cafeteria, she stood in line with a couple of male nurses and reached for a midsize cup. Someone came to stand behind her, but she didn’t look over her shoulder.
“Hello, Grace.”
She made an effort to disguise the effect Will Jefferson’s voice had on her. She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d shown up at the hospital. Olivia was, after all, his sister, and he was as worried as anyone. Apparently he’d visited Olivia yesterday evening, but their paths hadn’t crossed.
She turned. “Hello, Will.” She spoke in a controlled, even voice. Their history made her wary of him. It wouldn’t be out of character for Will to say or do something to make her uncomfortable.
“How’s my sister?”
“There hasn’t been any change since early this morning.”
“She’s out of danger, isn’t she?”
She nodded. “Immediate danger, yes. She’s still fighting the infection.”
“Poor Liv,” he murmured.
Grace reached the coffee machine and filled her cup. Will followed and filled his own. She noticed that his shoulders were wet.
“It’s raining?” she asked, disappointed because that meant she couldn’t go out for fresh air.
“Afraid so,” Will said. “Actually, I was hoping for snow.”
Grace smiled. “You and every school-age child in Cedar Cove.”
Will grinned back at her. “Hey, I guess I’m still a kid at heart.”
“Apparently so.” In more ways than one, she mused. She got to the cash register and was digging in her pocket for change when Will beat her to it.
“Both coffees,” he instructed the cashier.
“Thank you, Will, but that isn’t necessary.”
He shrugged. “Consider it a peace offering.” He gestured toward an empty table. “Do you have a few minutes?”
Grace hesitated.
“If Cliff objects, I’ll understand.”
Grace knew he was baiting her. Her husband wasn’t an unreasonable man, nor was he particularly jealous, although Will had given him cause to doubt her.
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions about the gallery,” he said.
She looked pointedly at her watch. “I don’t suppose five minutes would hurt.”
“Good.” He led the way to a small table and sat down.
Grace joined him.
“I signed the final papers last week,” he said proudly.
“Already? I didn’t think you were taking over until January.”
“I didn’t, either, but the paperwork went smoothly and there was no reason to wait. The previous owners thought it would be to their advantage tax-wise to close early, so I agreed.”
“Congratulations.” She raised her cup in a gesture of celebration.
Will touched his own cup against hers. “If not for Olivia, I would never have known about the gallery.”
“The community is grateful.” Grace knew the art gallery had given many local artists their start. Jon Bowman, her son-in-law, was one of them. His photography was first displayed at the Harbor Street Gallery back in the days when Maryellen had managed it.
In fact, they’d met through the gallery. Jon’s work was displayed in a large Seattle gallery these days, and he now had an agent. His photographs appeared in print ads, including a series of high-profile tourism ads for the state.
“I was astonished at the amount of artistic talent in this area,” Will told her. “When’s the last time you were in the gallery?”
Grace had to admit it had been some time. “I’ve only been by once or twice since Maryellen left.” Her daughter had been instrumental in the success of the Harbor Street Gallery. When Maryellen was forced to give up her job due to a difficult pregnancy, the gallery’s fortunes had steadily declined.
“That’s the message I’m getting from everyone,” Will said. “I’m talking to Maryellen, of course, but I’m also meeting with local artists and getting their suggestions on how to generate interest in the gallery again.”
“That’s a great idea,” she said, and meant it.
“Thanks.” He accepted her praise in an offhand manner. Staring down at his coffee, he asked, “Do you know Shirley Bliss?”
The name was vaguely familiar to Grace. “I think so…I seem to recall Maryellen being impressed with her work.”
“She’s a fabric artist. She quilts, but she also uses other techniques and she’s very inventive about materials. Her work’s really exciting.”
The gallery had occasionally displayed fabric art, like Shirley’s, but had tended to feature paintings and photography.
Will glanced up. “I’m hoping Shirley has some fresh ideas. We’re meeting this week. I’d like to do more with fabric art.” He added a little more sugar to his coffee and stirred. “Quilting and knitting are incredibly popular activities these days—as my mother has pointed out.”
Grace nodded. “That’s true.”
“Mom thought I should have a special quilt display,” Will said. “They’re usually seen as practical—you know, a traditional domestic craft—but they can be works of art.”
Grace was pleased by Will’s enthusiasm…and relieved that he’d found a focus for his time and energy. She finished her coffee, then said, “I really should get back.”
“Right.” Will held his cup with both hands. “Tell everyone I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Sure.” Grace stood and turned to leave. “See you later.”
When she entered the waiting area, the football game appeared to be over. Both Ben and Cliff spoke animatedly about the last-second win.
As Grace took the seat next to her husband, Cliff reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers.
“I met Will in the cafeteria,” Grace told Charlotte casually.
“Oh, I’m glad,” Charlotte murmured, pausing in the middle of counting stitches. “He said he was coming by.”
“We talked for a few minutes.” She mentioned this so it wouldn’t come as a surprise, should Will bring it up in front of Cliff.
Her husband nodded, not questioning the comment, and she squeezed his fingers.
Justine came out of the hospital room and joined them, with Jack following a moment later.
“Shift change,” he explained. Everyone was asked to leave when the next staff group came on duty and the nurses were updated on each patient’s condition.
“How does Olivia look?” Charlotte asked anxiously.
“Not bad,” Justine answered. “Mom’s a trooper.”
“She’s awake now,” Jack informed them. “You were right,” he told Cliff and Grace, “she didn’t know I’d been gone.”
“Mom’s going to be fine,” Justine said with the certainty and optimism of the young.
Grace had every intention of believing those words. And if love, faith and prayers could make a difference, Olivia would indeed be fine.
“Hey, everyone.”
Grace glanced up as Will stood in the entry to the waiting area.
“Hello, Will.” Cliff got up and offered his hand.
They shook hands, then Will bent to kiss his mother’s cheek and sat down next to Ben.
“Did you hear the Seahawks won?” Ben asked.
“I heard it from one of the physicians in the elevator.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “So what’s the latest on my sister?”
“She’s improving,” Jack told him. “Although she gave us all a fright.”
Will nodded. “I’m glad she’s doing better.”
“We all are,” Charlotte said with feeling. “But I’m still not sure Ben and I should be taking that cruise.”
“Grandma.” Justine shook her finger at Charlotte. “You’re going. If Mom hears you’re even thinking about not getting on that ship she’ll have a fit.”
“I did purchase travel insurance,” Ben told everyone, “so we can cancel if we have to. I want Charlotte to have a good time, and she can’t do that if she’s worried about Olivia.”
“Then there’s only one thing to do,” Jack said, looking at each person gathered there. “We’ll all have to make sure Olivia recovers quickly.”
Charlotte beamed. “I’m going home and making my chicken noodle soup. It worked when Olivia was a little girl and it’s bound to work now.”
“I love that soup,” Will said, smiling at his mother. “I used to pretend I was sick just so Mom would make a batch.”
“You sneak!” Charlotte burst out, and everyone laughed.
“But like you always said, Mom, it cures whatever ails you.”
Jack chuckled. “I wonder if those cancer specialists know about the medicinal qualities of Charlotte’s soup.”
“I’ll tell them,” Justine said.
Charlotte shoved her knitting in her bag. “Let’s go, Ben. We’ll be back with a thermos of chicken noodle soup.” She stood up slowly, reaching for her husband.
Not for the first time, Grace noticed that Charlotte was showing her age. Ben, too, she thought as he rose awkwardly to his feet. They held each other, arms linked, and shuffled out.
Jack’s gaze met hers, and it was plain that they shared the same concern. If Charlotte was going to make a batch of her chicken noodle soup, it might be a good idea if she and Ben had some, too.
A few minutes later, a nurse stepped into the waiting area.
“Olivia is now receiving guests,” the woman said cheerfully. “She’s doing well. I spoke with her physician, and Dr. Franklin thinks she should be able to go home in another day. Two at the most.”
“That’s great news!” Grace said, clasping her hands together.
“Yes, it is,” Jack agreed. “And she hasn’t even had her chicken soup yet.”
Grace smiled. If Jack’s sense of humor was back, things really were looking up.
Nineteen
Christie was embarrassed to admit how nervous she felt about this dinner party her sister had arranged. When they’d met the previous week, Christie had agreed to contact James on her own. It’d sounded like a good idea at the time….
And yet Christie couldn’t make herself do it. The fear of rejection was just too strong. In exasperation Teri had intervened and asked both James and Christie to dinner. Christie knew James would be attending, but apparently he’d been left in the dark. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with that—it didn’t seem fair—but Teri insisted she knew what she was doing.
The two sisters had discussed their plan several times over the course of the day.
“What are you wearing?” Teri asked an hour before Christie was due to arrive.
So far she hadn’t decided. She’d tried on almost every outfit she owned and discarded them all. “I…don’t know yet. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Nothing too fancy,” Teri cautioned. “The evening’s supposed to be relaxed, low-key. Think casual.”
Christie glanced at her reflection in the bedroom mirror and started to unfasten the sequined top. She hadn’t liked the way it fit, anyway. “How about jeans and a sweater?” she asked next. Earlier that week, Wal-Mart had offered jeans on sale. Christie knew a bargain when she saw one and with her employee discount, the store had practically given her those Levi’s.
“That’s a little too casual. Do you have any black pants?”
Christie’s gaze shot to her closet. “Yeah, I think so.” Somewhere buried deep in the back there was probably a pair. She tended to stick to jeans; they fit well and were comfortable.
“Wear those and a sweater. Listen, I’ve got to scoot if I’m going to get dinner on the table.”
Christie stopped her. “James still doesn’t know I’m coming, right?”
Her sister hesitated. “Unfortunately he does. Bobby wasn’t supposed to say anything but he forgot.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll be here, don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
“See you in an hour.”
That hardly seemed long enough. Christie tore into her closet again. Clothes were scattered all over the floor and across her bed. Anyone looking at her room would assume she’d been the victim of a burglary. She’d worked today, so she hadn’t bothered to make her bed, and between that and the clothes strewn everywhere, the room was a hopeless mess. Christie was pretty sure she knew what James would think if he were to see it.
Instantly the image of James naked and in her bed flashed into her mind. She couldn’t begin to imagine what kind of lover he’d be. Polite to a fault, no doubt. She shook her head to dispel the image. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t even figure out why she cared about this overpolite stuffed shirt, anyway.
But for reasons she didn’t completely understand, she did care. She wanted him to like her; she wanted to be a better person for James.
She could still see the disappointment in his eyes when she’d come out of The Pink Poodle. Yes, she’d been drinking, but she wasn’t drunk. Far from it. Besides, it wasn’t any of his business where she was or who she was with or what she was doing. But…she couldn’t forget that look in his eyes.
As Teri had said, James Wilbur was the first decent man who’d shown interest in her, and that left Christie feeling vulnerable and exposed. The man seemed to disapprove of Christie as much as he was attracted to her, which confused Christie. That confusion made her resentful, and her resentment made her…confused.
Tonight’s date was a perfect example. It wasn’t really even a date, just a “casual” dinner, and she should wear what she wanted. Yet here she was, worrying about every aspect of her appearance simply because James was going to be there.
Walking closer to the mirror, Christie studied her reflection. The woman who stared at her revealed none of the poise or elegance she’d worked so hard to create. Shaking back her hair, Christie wondered if this was just another instance of wanting what Teri had.
As a kid, Christie had followed her big sister around like a shadow. Teri had hated it and done everything she could to ditch her. In their teens and twenties, the animosity between them had nearly destroyed their relationship. If Teri had it, Christie wanted it. It included boys. And later, men. She asked herself if what Teri had this time was really so appealing. Well, yes.
First, her sister was married to a
man who loved her, while Christie’s marriage, brief though it was, had been a disaster from the start. The man who’d promised to cherish her had beaten her in a drunken rage instead. At the rate the violence had escalated, Christie figured she would’ve been dead within the year.
Her sister had security, too—financial and emotional. That was something neither of them had experienced in their youth. Teri wasn’t the same person she’d been before marrying Bobby. Love had changed her. Christie envied her that.
Christie frowned at herself in the mirror. She didn’t have time to stand here analyzing her feelings for James. They were just…there. Right now, she had an outfit to throw together, makeup to put on, hair to brush.
When she finally arrived at her sister’s house, Christie was fifteen minutes late. She hadn’t located a single pair of black slacks and had worn gray stretch pants and a long red sweater. The combination was festive. She chose a necklace made of silver bells that jingled whenever she moved. Her shoes were too tight but there was nothing she could do about that.
Teri opened the door, looking pregnant and just as radiant as a pregnant woman was supposed to.
“Christie, you’re late,” Teri hissed, grabbing her arm and dragging her into the house. It’d been a while since Christie had been inside and she was astounded at the transformation that had taken place. Every nook and cranny was decorated for Christmas.
“Wow,” she said, gazing around. From where she stood in the entry she could see three Christmas trees—on the landing, in the living room and in a corner of the hall. She saw Nativity sets of different styles and sizes on various available surfaces.
“Bobby said I could decorate for Christmas however I wanted to.”
“Why all the trees?” Christie asked, forgetting about James for the moment. “How many are there, anyway?”
“Five.”
“Five decorated Christmas trees?”
“I love Christmas,” Teri announced.
“No kidding,” Christie muttered. She loved Christmas, too, but she could never have afforded anything like this—or had the space for it. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 Page 47
