311 Pelican Court

by Debbie Macomber

  “Both are off the Interstate,” Roy reminded her.

  “So he took an early exit and got lost. That’s easy enough to do,” Corrie reasoned. “Remember the first time we drove to Cedar Cove?” If he didn’t remember, she certainly did. They’d driven across the Narrows Bridge on a sunny Sunday afternoon, searching out areas in Puget Sound where their retirement income would match the cost of living.

  Corrie had been reading the map and become confused. Consequently, Roy had exited the freeway too soon and they’d found themselves in what was primarily a rural area. They’d driven past small farms and horse ranches and then along stretches of undeveloped waterfront. They’d both grown excited when they realized property values were fifty percent less than they were across the water.

  “I remember,” Roy said. “But if that was the case, the mystery man would’ve had to travel a long way in the dark, on unfamiliar roads, and then he just stumbled onto the Bel-dons’ bed-and-breakfast.” He rubbed his jaw. “I suppose it’s possible. With the renaming of some streets, anyone, especially a visitor, could get confused.” Part of Lighthouse Road, on the other side of Harbor Street, was now called Cranberry Point.

  “True.” Roy had a point. The Thyme and Tide wasn’t on the beaten path and was miles away from the exit she’d mentioned.

  “So much of his visit to town doesn’t add up,” Roy muttered. “The fact that he had plastic surgery has bothered me from the beginning.”

  “I thought the coroner said it looked like the guy had some kind of accident.”

  “He did,” Roy said, “but Bob said there was something vaguely familiar about him. I keep thinking about that, too.”

  “Let it go,” she urged. “It’s almost Christmas.” If Roy took a break from the case, he might free his mind to explore solutions. It often happened like that; a case would lie fallow for months and then overnight a small piece of evidence her husband had found months earlier—a bit of conversation, a previously unrelated detail—would suddenly click into place. Soon afterward, he’d have the answers he needed.

  “I can’t do that just yet,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a few feelers out.”

  Corrie nearly groaned. The problem was, once Roy asked for favors, he owed just as many in return. It all depended on whom he’d contacted and why. “What sort of feelers?”

  “Not to worry, most of it can be done over the Internet.”

  “It’s almost Christmas,” she reminded him again. For once, she wanted him to simply enjoy the holiday and stop thinking about work.

  “Yes,” he agreed mildly.

  “Our children will be home soon, and it’s important that we spend time as a family.”

  “I agree,” he said, “but I want you to remember there’s another family somewhere who’s missing a father this Christmas.”

  Corrie had remained emotionally detached from the man who’d turned up dead at the Beldons’ B and B. He was a stranger who’d chosen to carry false identification. Nothing was known about him or his reasons for being in town. Because of that, Corrie hadn’t thought of him as a real person with a home and a wife and perhaps children.

  “You’re doing a missing person’s search, aren’t you?”

  Roy shrugged, which in itself was an answer. “Go, and have a good time with Peggy,” he told her.

  “Do you want me to bring you back anything for lunch?”

  Roy shook his head. “I’ll get by with peanut butter and jelly.” His favorite midday meal.

  Corrie left then, and spent a pleasant afternoon with her new friend. It felt good to get out, to be part of the annual Christmas-shopping experience. They ate at the mall’s food court, chatting over pizza slices and Coke as holiday tunes filled the air. Soon the two women were caught up in the crowd of shoppers.

  Corrie bought Linnette new gloves and Mack a Cedar Cove sweatshirt, and Peggy chose a new golf club for Bob and a book of plays. Bob loved community theater. Roy and Corrie had recently seen him in the fall production of Arsenic and Old Lace. He was actually quite talented. For her husband, Corrie bought a beautiful volume of Sherlock Holmes stories.

  From Peggy’s comments, Corrie sensed that Bob was putting the unfortunate circumstances regarding the John Doe behind him. She knew the police had questioned him, but whatever their concern, it had apparently been laid to rest.

  The two women left the mall at about three, saying goodbye in the parking lot. Vendors sold fresh-cut Christmas trees, and Corrie breathed deeply, inhaling the pungent scent of pine and fir. Nothing smelled more like Christmas.

  When she returned to the office, she found Roy hunched over his computer, a plate and an empty milk glass sitting on his desk. He stared intently at the computer screen and hadn’t noticed her.

  “Any phone calls?” she asked.

  Roy raised his head. “Oh, hi. What? Phone calls?”

  “Did the telephone go ring, ring, ring?” she teased.

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want to hear about my lunch?” She waited, but when he didn’t respond, she continued. “In case you’re interested, Peggy and I had a great time. I was thinking maybe we could invite them over for New Year’s Eve.”

  Again nothing.

  Corrie sighed. “Peggy’s such a good cook, I’ll bet no one ever thinks to invite her to dinner. You like Bob, don’t you?”

  Her husband stared up at her blankly. Corrie was starting to feel irritated.

  “I like the Beldons,” she said in a firm voice. “I think all four of us could become friends.”

  Roy leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on her. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  Corrie’s cheerful mood evaporated. “Why not?” she asked.

  Roy stood and walked slowly around his desk. His shoulders slouched, he ran his hand through his hair, disheveling it.

  Corrie stiffened. Roy had found something in his Internet search, and whatever it was, he didn’t want to tell her.

  “Do you think Bob is somehow linked to the John Doe?” she asked bluntly.

  Roy’s eyes met hers and he nodded.

  She swallowed tightly. The one friend she’d found, and now this.

  “Do you think Bob had something to do with his death?” she asked next. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to consider what that would mean for Peggy.

  Roy walked back to the other side of his desk and sat down. “I don’t know, but I’m not ruling it out.”

  Olivia’s Christmas was all planned. Justine, Seth and Leif, as well as her mother, would be at her house for dinner by midafternoon. Olivia had invited Jack, too, but unfortunately he’d already made arrangements to join Eric and Shelly and the twins in Reno.

  “Next year we’ll be together,” Jack promised. He’d stopped at her place early Christmas morning, before he left for the airport. She gave him her gift—a first edition of H. L. Mencken—and he set his gifts for her under the tree.

  “Promise for next year?” she asked, when he’d kissed her farewell.

  “Promise.” Jack gathered her in his arms and kissed her again.

  Olivia felt the warmth of that kiss all the way to her toes, and when he’d finished, her head was spinning. They were only now recovering their ease and comfort with each other, although they remained a little on edge, afraid of toppling the delicate balance.

  For her part, Olivia was careful. Neither of them had discussed Stan, although her ex-husband still called her often—always for what appeared to be legitimate reasons.

  Stan was smart. He wanted back in her life and he was a patient man. For the moment, he was letting things slide, doing nothing overt. Olivia knew her ex-husband, though. At some point, when he figured the time was right, Stan would swoop in.

  “Will you be here for New Year’s Eve?” she asked, looking up at Jack. The thought of spending the night playing Scrabble with her mother held little appeal, although it’d been their tradition for almost a decade. If Jack could join them, it would turn an
otherwise routine evening into something truly entertaining. Charlotte loved Jack as much as Olivia did.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I already made other plans.”

  Her smile faded, and her heart thudded to an abrupt halt. “Not with another woman, I hope?”

  He chuckled and appeared to be amused by her small display of jealousy. “It’s not what you think. I volunteered to be part of a retreat for Alcoholics Anonymous. I’m sorry. If I’d thought about it, I would’ve cleared it with you first.”

  She had no right to make that kind of demand on him. “It’s not a problem. I…I’ll miss you.”

  Jack kissed her one final time. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  Olivia walked him to his car and waved as he drove off. She wouldn’t see him again until after the first of the year. Sadness settled over her. And so did a measure of regret. The difficulties in their relationship had come about because she’d allowed herself to get caught up in Stan’s sudden need for her and the nostalgia she’d felt for their past. A past that couldn’t be retrieved…

  Olivia shook off her somber mood, and Christmas was wonderful. With her mother’s help, Olivia’s turkey turned out golden-brown and succulent. Although he was still too young to appreciate Christmas, Leif was thoroughly spoiled by Olivia. Stan had dropped off his gifts earlier in the week.

  They opened their presents after brunch, and it was an hour full of laughter and exclamations of pleasure. The contrast between Jack’s gifts to her and Stan’s seemed very telling to Olivia. Jack had bought her a small framed black-and-white photograph of the Cedar Cove lighthouse, one of Jon Bowman’s pictures. He’d also given her a new Cross pen, to replace the old one she’d used for years. Stan had bought her a diamond pendant, an “any woman” sort of gift. It seemed oddly impersonal, although Justine immediately made her put it on.

  At three o’clock, the small party telephoned James and Selina in San Diego and eighteen-month-old Isabella chattered away. Unfortunately, little of what her granddaughter said was decipherable to Olivia. What did come across was that this was the first Christmas her granddaughter understood that she had two grandmas. Selina assured Olivia that Isabella loved her gifts: a talking doll with its own baby carriage.

  “I wish you’d invited Dad,” Justine told Olivia privately in the kitchen while scraping the dinner dishes.

  “I thought about it,” Olivia confessed. She had, but she was afraid it would encourage Stan, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “I hate it that he spent the day alone.”

  Olivia swallowed down a sense of guilt, but later she reminded herself that if Stan was alone on Christmas Day, it was the result of choices he’d made sixteen years ago. He was the one who’d walked out on their family, on her and their two surviving children. Despite her sympathy for him, and her residual affection, she couldn’t get too involved in comforting her ex-husband, even if he was in the throes of a second divorce. Knowing Stan, that would lead to willfully mistaken impressions; besides, she had other priorities now.

  “Seth and I are hoping to spend New Year’s Eve at the restaurant,” Justine said casually, without looking at Olivia.

  If that was a hint that her daughter needed someone to watch Leif, Olivia was more than ready to volunteer. Jack had plans, so the only person she worried about upsetting was her mother.

  “Let me check with your grandmother, but if she doesn’t mind, I’ll stay with Leif.”

  “Really, Mom?” Justine was obviously relieved. “I don’t feel right leaving him with a sitter yet.”

  Olivia didn’t blame her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Her mother sat with her feet up in front of the fireplace, knitting what seemed to be a man’s sweater, although she hadn’t said who it was for. Possibly Seth, but that didn’t seem likely. If it was, Olivia assumed her mother would’ve finished it before Christmas.

  Sitting down next to Charlotte, Olivia took in the scene around her. A fire flickered in the fireplace and the Christmas stockings that had hung on the mantel were down now, empty and spread across the coffee table. Seth held his sleeping son cradled in his arms; he, too, had dozed off. Christmas music played softly from the CD player and the lights on the tree sparkled. It was about as perfect a Christmas as she could remember.

  “Mom,” Olivia said, “would you mind terribly if I didn’t join you this New Year’s Eve?”

  “Oh, you have other plans?”

  Olivia looked at her quizzically; her mother seemed pleased by the prospect of spending the evening alone. “Justine asked me to watch Leif so she and Seth could be at the restaurant.”

  “By all means, Olivia, you stay with Leif. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Would you like me to drive by and pick you up?” Olivia asked.

  “Nonsense,” Charlotte returned. “I might have a date of my own, you know.”

  Olivia smiled. Charlotte had men friends, but no beaus. Her friends had encouraged her to pursue a second relationship, but Charlotte had refused. Life was simpler that way, she’d always said.

  Following her divorce, well-meaning friends had tried to set Olivia up with various men. Had circumstances been different, she might’ve been interested. But at the time, she was in no condition to get involved with anyone, and she knew it.

  In addition, Justine and James had needed her. Her world and theirs had just collapsed, crushing them under the weight of their combined grief. For a long time afterward, the three of them had been emotionally crippled. They’d needed time to recover, and it hadn’t happened quickly or easily.

  In their own ways, they’d each succeeded. James had joined the Navy and married Selina. In the military he’d found security, and Selina had offered him the unconditional love he so desperately needed.

  Justine had faltered for years, and had managed to convince herself that she wanted neither a husband nor children. Thankfully, Seth Gunderson had convinced her otherwise.

  For her part, Olivia had found satisfaction and joy in her position on the bench. Meeting Jack had been an unexpected bonus. He’d brought laughter and spontaneity back into her life. With him, she could relax the rigidity that she’d so carefully incorporated into her daily routine.

  Her throat thickened with sudden emotion. She owed Jack so much, and she’d nearly thrown it all away. She’d nearly destroyed the relationship that gave her so much pleasure.

  It dawned on her then that she hadn’t heard from him all day.

  Later that night, after her family had left, Jack did phone, but their conversation was brief. He was flying back the following weekend, and they arranged a dinner date at the Taco Shack, his favorite restaurant. Olivia had to admit she was growing accustomed to reading a menu on a wall.

  After she talked to Jack, Olivia made a pot of tea and sat in front of the Christmas tree, reveling in a peaceful hour or so before bed. It had truly been a wonderful Christmas. The only improvement she could add to the day was Jack, and he’d already promised her they’d be together the following year.

  The phone chimed in the distance, and for a moment she was tempted to let it ring. In retrospect, she wished she had.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said before glancing at caller ID.

  It was Stan. “Same to you, sweetheart.” He sounded cheerful.

  She resisted the urge to correct him—to tell him she wasn’t his sweetheart and never would be again. “Hello, Stan. I imagine you want to talk to Justine and Seth, but they’ve left.”

  “No,” he said, “I’m calling to talk to you.”

  She didn’t comment.

  “I wanted to ask you out for New Year’s Eve.” Before she could object, he added, “Think about the two of us having dinner at the Space Needle, with champagne and ballroom dancing, just like we used to.”

  Clearly he had her confused with his second wife. When she was married to Stan, they could never have afforded such extravagance. “I’m sorry, but I already have plans.”

  A
momentary pause. Then he said, “Not with that newspaper fellow. Tell me you’re not serious.”

  Olivia bit her tongue to keep from defending Jack. It wouldn’t do any good. “If you must know, I agreed to watch Leif for Justine and Seth.”

  “You did?”

  She almost confessed that Jack would be at a retreat with some of his AA friends, but quickly decided that was more information than her ex-husband needed to know.

  “That’s great,” Stan said, sounding jovial now. “I’ll join you. We’ll put Leif down for the night, drink champagne and dance. It’ll be like old times, just the two of us.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Stan chuckled. “You can’t keep me away from my only grandson, and it’ll be the perfect opportunity for us to talk. Give me a chance to prove myself, Olivia. I made a mistake and I’ve paid for it. It’s time to put the past behind us. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  Olivia released a sigh. “I’m sorry, Stan, but you’re sixteen years too late.”

  * * *

  Christmas had been a miserable affair for Rosie. Allison was in a rotten mood most of the day because neither Rosie nor Zach could afford to buy her the computer she wanted. Eddie had been disappointed in his gifts, too, but he’d put on a brighter face than Allison. Rosie wondered when their children had become so terribly, terribly spoiled.

  That Saturday, two days after Christmas, Rosie and Zach met to divide the monthly bills. Until the divorce, Zach had always managed the money and had done an excellent job of handling their finances; now they shared this unpleasant task. The divorce had cost them both dearly and continued to do so.

  Zach had brewed a pot of coffee when she arrived at the house. The bills were spread out across the kitchen table, organized alphabetically. She noted that dishes were stacked in the sink and the living room needed to be straightened. From the look of the carpet, no one had vacuumed since before Christmas. She wasn’t about to mention his failings as a housekeeper, however, considering that she wasn’t much better.

  “When we’re finished there’s something I need to discuss with you,” he said. He reached for the coffeepot and automatically filled two mugs, which he brought to the table. He set hers down, then pulled out a chair across from her.