50 Harbor Street

by Debbie Macomber

  Now Olivia smiled, too. She reached for her fork and cut into her lemon meringue. “All right, enough about me and Jack. What’s going on with you and Cliff?”

  Grace sighed heavily. “Cliff fell asleep during the movie. I woke him up when he started snoring—loudly.”

  Olivia burst into laughter.

  “Olivia Lockhart Griffin, this is not funny.”

  Her friend made an effort to restrain her amusement.

  “Ten minutes later, he was snoring again. I’d had it, and we left the theater.” In truth, Olivia should be grateful she’d missed out on their evening. Cliff had been exhausted. He’d been working with his horses all day and ended up feeling tired and cranky. Dinner after the movie had been dismal.

  “I’m so disappointed I could’ve cried.”

  “What is it with our men?” Olivia asked.

  “I don’t know. But I’m sick of this,” Grace said. “It’s like I’m married with none of the benefits.”

  “No regular sex?” Olivia teased.

  “You might be my best friend, but there are some things I will not divulge, even to you, and my love life is one of them.”

  “In other words, you don’t have one.”

  “In other words, you’re right.”

  They both laughed and it felt good. Christmas was four days away and she was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with her girls and then go to Cliff’s late Christmas morning. But Grace found she was having second thoughts about seeing Cliff at all.

  “What are we going to do?” Olivia asked. “Jack will think it’s very clever of me to buy him a treadmill, but I can’t make him exercise. Nor can I keep him away from double bacon cheeseburgers.”

  “I can’t make Cliff love me.”

  That comment obviously shook Olivia. “Cliff does love you,” she insisted.

  Grace used to believe that, too, but these days she wasn’t so sure. “We had a wonderful Thanksgiving, but now we’re in a rut. Being with me seems more of a burden than a joy. Our date last Saturday was an obligation he felt he had to fulfill. I certainly didn’t enjoy myself and I doubt he did, either.”

  “So what’s next?”

  That was a question worth contemplating. “I wish I knew.”

  “Just promise me you won’t do anything until after Christmas.”

  Grace made a wry face. “Here’s how Christmas will go. I’ll arrive at Cliff’s around noon, make dinner and then knit while he falls asleep in front of the television.” She’d wash the dinner dishes, kiss him goodbye and let herself out. She might as well stay home with her dog and cat; Buttercup and Sherlock were frequently better company. “Some time the next morning,” Grace concluded her scenario, “Cliff will phone and apologize and then we’ll start all over again.”

  “Cliff needs his cage rattled,” Olivia suggested, tapping her finger against her lips.

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “You feel like you’re married but don’t have any of the benefits? Then tell him you want to marry him.”

  “You think I should propose?”

  “Yes,” Olivia said. “That should wake him up.”

  “I want to get Cliff’s attention, not give him a heart attack.”

  “Force him to make a decision—a commitment.”

  Grace could just imagine the look on his face, but maybe Olivia was right. It was time to either make that commitment or walk away. However, Grace didn’t know if she had the courage to follow through on any kind of ultimatum.

  “Well?” Olivia pressed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve got to do something,” Olivia said firmly, scraping up the last of her pie.

  That was true enough, but suggesting marriage seemed rather drastic. “I’m afraid,” she admitted after a thoughtful moment.

  “What are you afraid of?” Olivia asked.

  Grace set her fork aside and picked up her coffee, then put it down again. “I don’t know.” That wasn’t the complete truth. She knew. Her biggest fear was that Cliff would tell her he had no marriage plans. Or none with her, anyway.

  “Grace?” Olivia stretched her arm across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’ve gone pale.”

  She managed a shaky smile. “I’m still waiting for the effects of that pie to kick in.”

  “Are you going to do it?” Olivia asked.

  Grace took a deep breath. “I believe I will. It’s time I learned where I stand with Cliff.”

  Twenty-Four

  Christmas morning Maryellen woke cozy and warm in bed with her husband’s arms around her. She sighed happily and turned to face him.

  “Merry Christmas,” she whispered, and discovered that Jon had raised himself on one elbow, looking down at her. His eyes brimmed with love as he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  “Merry Christmas,” he echoed. “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She lifted her head tentatively and waited a moment. All seemed well. Her stomach hadn’t immediately started to heave and that was a good sign. This pregnancy wasn’t as difficult as the last, the infant son she’d miscarried. This time, she’d been experiencing some morning nausea but it wasn’t debilitating.

  Jon remained fearful that it’d been a mistake to get pregnant so soon. That was irrelevant now. She hadn’t tricked him; he knew she wasn’t using birth control and it was bound to happen sooner or later. He’d just assumed, as she did, that it would be later. When it turned out not to be, Maryellen was surprised herself—and overjoyed. She wanted Katie to have a brother or sister and she didn’t want to wait much longer. As it was, she was almost forty.

  “You’ll notice Katie’s still asleep.”

  “Little wonder.” They’d gathered at Kelly and Paul’s home with Maryellen’s mother for Christmas Eve. Katie and Tyler had played together, racing around the Christmas tree, their laughter ringing through the house. It had been a late night, but Katie was too excited to fall asleep until almost midnight.

  “I’m thinking,” Jon whispered as his warm hand closed over her breast, “that we have a good hour to ourselves.” He pressed his erection against her and kissed her with an urgency that spoke of his need. “Wouldn’t you say this is the perfect time to begin a new holiday tradition?”

  “That sounds interesting,” Maryellen murmured happily. She loved this man and knew that if she’d let him walk out of her life, she would have lost herself, too—lost the woman she was meant to be.

  An hour later, they sat in the living room, each holding a mug of coffee, and gazed out at the view of Seattle. It was still dark, so the lights of the city shimmered in the distance. Jon settled his arm around her shoulders.

  “Do you think we should wake Katie?” Maryellen asked.

  “If we do, I have a feeling we’ll live to regret it.”

  Jon was right. Katie tended to wake up whiny, especially after a late night. Besides, Maryellen cherished this private time with her husband and didn’t want to squander it.

  “Let’s open our gifts,” she suggested. Maryellen had spent her Christmas bonus from the Harbor Street Gallery on a high-end digital camera for Jon. He’d been eyeing it for months, but couldn’t justify the expense. She knew how badly he wanted it and her joy at being able to purchase it for him made her feel giddy with excitement.

  “You first,” he said. Getting up, he walked over to the tree and plucked off a small package dangling from one of the branches. Maryellen had noticed it there but hadn’t touched it. Her main concern had been keeping Katie away from the gifts.

  “I hear good things come in small packages,” she teased. They were on a limited budget, so she expected something inexpensive. A token. She tore off the wrapping and found a jeweler’s embossed box. She stared at Jon, and her smile faded.

  “Open it,” he said.

  Her husband wasn’t a man who smiled often. His delight at watching her open this gift was revealed by the way his eyes brightened and the edges of his mouth curved upward in antici
pation.

  Maryellen lifted the lid and gasped. It was a diamond wedding ring with a solitaire diamond that had to be a full carat in size. Tears instantly blurred her vision and speech became impossible. When they were married, all they’d been able to afford was a simple gold band. Not once had Maryellen even hinted that she would’ve preferred a diamond. Jon was her jewel, she’d told him, and the love they shared was worth far more than any ring.

  “Say something,” he said urgently. “Do you like it? Because if you don’t, I can exchange it.”

  “I love it….” She threw her arms around his neck and broke into sobs of joy. “How?” She was sure he hadn’t charged it. Jon was an excellent money manager and always paid cash. Their home didn’t have a mortgage because her frugal husband had paid for each section as he built it. He hadn’t finished yet, but that would happen in time.

  “I put aside money all year,” Jon told her, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I always intended for you to have a diamond, but it wasn’t financially possible when we got married.”

  Maryellen took the ring from its plush bed and slid it onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. She smiled up at him, then kissed him sweetly and whispered how much she loved him. Holding her hand out to admire the ring, she saw the diamond glittering in the light. “I really do love it. But not as much as I love you.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Your turn,” she insisted and pulled the box out from behind the tree. A large paper package tumbled out with it.

  “Who’s that from?” Jon muttered.

  He must have guessed, but still he asked. Maryellen sighed; she didn’t want anything to ruin this Christmas. “It came last week from Oregon,” she finally said.

  The package had arrived at the gallery, addressed to the three of them, DON’T OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS written in big block letters across the top. Without a word to Jon, Maryellen had brought it home and hidden it behind the tree.

  “Open your gift,” she said, hoping to distract him.

  “When did that get here?” he asked in a disgusted voice.

  “Last week.”

  “You didn’t mention it.”

  Maryellen sank into the chair. “Jon, please, don’t. Katie is their only grandchild. They love her and want to be part of her life. You’ve made your feelings abundantly clear, but your daughter deserves to know her grandparents.”

  He seemed about to argue, but after a moment his shoulders sagged and he nodded.

  “Now open your gift,” she said, pushing the package toward him. It wasn’t heavy, but she wanted to give him the impression that it was.

  Jon eagerly ripped away the paper, and when he saw the camera box, he froze. Slowly he looked up, his eyes wide with shock. “You didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did,” she announced gleefully.

  “We can’t afford this.”

  “I used my bonus.”

  “Maryellen, that money is for you to buy yourself something you want.”

  “I did. There’s nothing I wanted more in this world than to give my husband the digital camera he’s been salivating over for the last six months.”

  Jon walked to where she sat and knelt down in front of her. Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her. “Thank you.”

  Maryellen placed her arms around his neck. “This is the best Christmas of my life,” she said and meant it. She had Jon and Katie, and another life was growing inside her, evidence of the love she and her husband shared.

  Katie woke then, and dropping a last kiss on Maryellen’s cheek, Jon ran upstairs to get his daughter. While he was busy with Katie, Maryellen poured the little girl her morning cup of orange juice.

  Opening gifts with their daughter was a pleasure like no other. Katie wanted to play with each toy and examine each gift and—like every young child—was equally fascinated with the wrapping paper. Not surprisingly, the process took several hours. It was two in the afternoon and the turkey was in the oven before they reached the last gift—the box mailed from Oregon.

  Katie wasn’t sure about this package without festive paper, so Maryellen helped her. Jon stood in the kitchen and watched, as if to stay as far away as possible from the gift his family had sent.

  When she’d carefully removed the outer packaging, Maryellen discovered three wrapped presents inside: one for Katie, another for her and the last for Jon. She sat back on her heels and glanced up at her husband.

  “What?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer right away. “Here, Katie,” she said and handed her daughter the gift. It turned out to be a hand-crocheted white dress with a pink satin bow and it was breathtakingly beautiful. Maryellen could only imagine the time and effort that had gone into creating it.

  Katie, being far more interested in her toys, quickly returned to the wooden puzzle Jon and Maryellen had purchased for her. She seemed intent on getting all the pieces back into their proper slots.

  “I’ll open mine,” Maryellen said. Her gift was homemade, too—a knit poncho in a soft beige wool. “Oh, Jon, look what Ellen made for me.”

  He didn’t comment. When Maryellen tried it on and modeled it for him, he nodded once, then moved away. Apparently something in the kitchen demanded his immediate attention.

  Maryellen left his gift sitting on the coffee table. She wouldn’t urge him to open it. That was his choice. The gift sat there through dinner, and it was only as she was readying for bed that she noticed Jon hadn’t come upstairs yet. Katie was asleep and Maryellen had to work in the morning.

  Looking down the stairway, she saw her husband sitting on the sofa, staring at the gift. After a while he seized the large package with its red-and-green wrap and tore it open. This was a step forward. So far, every gesture made by his family had been met with brutal rejection. Recognizing the significance of the moment, Maryellen covered her mouth. She didn’t wait to see what Jon’s parents had chosen for him. Afraid of giving herself away, she went quietly to bed and waited for him to join her.

  A long time passed before he did. She’d turned off the light and was lying on her side, half-asleep, when Jon climbed into the bed. He moved close to her and draped his arm over her waist, flattening his hand against her stomach.

  Maryellen rested her hand on his.

  “You awake?” he whispered.

  She sighed sleepily in response. Because he was so still, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” came his hoarse reply. “My father’s a bastard. Knowing I was innocent, he sent me to rot in a jail cell. And now…now he gives me a fishing pole for Christmas.”

  Maryellen rolled onto her back so she could look into her husband’s face and discovered Jon’s eyes bright with unshed tears. Cradling his cheek with one hand, she kissed him, not sure how else to comfort him.

  “He used to take me fishing when I was a kid, before my mother died. Those were the happiest memories of my childhood—fishing with my dad.”

  Closing her eyes, Maryellen wrapped both arms around him. She suspected Joseph Bowman had found the one way in which he could reach his son.

  Twenty-Five

  Cecilia knew Christmas Day without Ian was going to be difficult. She woke feeling melancholy, but was determined to have as merry a Christmas as possible. “Next year your daddy will be with us,” she assured her unborn son, rubbing her swollen belly.

  As soon as she was dressed, she logged on to the computer and left her husband a long, detailed message. She sent him all her love on this most special of days and did her best to sound happy and confident. Achieving the right tone required careful thought. If she sounded too cheerful, Ian might think she didn’t miss him. If she seemed depressed and miserable, he’d worry. As a result, she spent almost an hour composing her message. She ended by mentioning the small get-together she was having with Cathy and Carol and added that they’d invited Rachel Pendergast to join them.

  A small Christmas tree sat in the window of her duplex, a smattering of gifts ben
eath. Ian had asked his mother to mail her a lovely gold locket; she’d opened that the minute it arrived. Her in-laws had added a gift of their own—a Pashmina shawl in a lovely shade of soft green. Her own mother had mailed a small box of gifts, mostly baby things, which Cecilia opened that morning. Sandra Merrick had recently married for the third time. Cecilia phoned to wish her a merry Christmas and was given the disappointing news that her mother wouldn’t be able to visit her when the baby was due. She’d used all her vacation time on her honeymoon. They talked for about thirty minutes and Cecilia hung up the phone with mixed feelings. Her mother was happy; Cecilia couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way after a conversation with her. She was genuinely delighted for Sandra and hoped to meet her new husband soon. Besides, she’d do fine by herself when she was ready to deliver her baby; Cecilia had her friends.

  At noon, she drove over to Cathy Lackey’s for Christmas dinner. She saw Carol Greendale’s vehicle parked outside Cathy’s place—Carol and her daughter, Amanda, had already arrived. Amanda had been born the same month as Allison. For a long time, Cecilia could barely look at the little girl without feeling overwhelmed by grief. But now, Cecilia felt only a twinge of pain when she saw Amanda.

  “Merry Christmas,” she sang out, letting herself into the apartment. She carried a special chicken pasta salad her mother made every Christmas. It had always been Cecilia’s favorite. She also had a bag filled with small gifts; they’d decided to exchange presents, setting a ten-dollar limit.

  “Merry Christmas,” Cathy called from the kitchen. She wore a felt reindeer antler headpiece with bells that jingled as she walked. Cathy’s son, Andy, was playing with Amanda in the living room. “I’ve got the bird in the oven and we should be eating in three hours—if this oven holds up.”

  “Problems?” Carol asked. She had on a bright red sweater with three Christmas-tree bulbs in black, yellow and green decorating the front.

  “Problems with the cook,” Cathy answered, poking her head out of the kitchen. “I should’ve cleaned the oven after Thanksgiving and didn’t, and then the minute I turned it on to preheat for the turkey, smoke started billowing out.”