Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3

by Debbie Macomber

  A moment later, Rachel must have felt his stare because she turned and their eyes met. The brush she held dropped to the floor. She’d lost weight, Bruce noticed, which wasn’t good. It told him she wasn’t eating enough and that the pregnancy was taking a toll on her health. His first instinct was to chastise her for not looking after herself. She also seemed exceptionally pale. Stephanie, when she was pregnant with Jolene, had suffered from an iron deficiency and Bruce wondered if that was the case with Rachel, too.

  While Bruce waited, Rachel finished with her client, then met him just inside the salon doors.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered before he’d had a chance to greet her.

  “Shouldn’t it be obvious?” he returned, unable to take his eyes off her. “I came to see you.”

  “You said you wouldn’t.”

  “I did?” Bruce didn’t remember that. If so, he’d agreed under duress and had since changed his mind, although he said none of that. “I miss you,” he whispered, and reached for her hand.

  Rachel looked down, but not before he saw tears in her eyes. “I miss you, too.”

  “Come home, Rachel,” he pleaded as his thumb stroked the top of her hand. “I’ll do whatever you ask. Just come home.”

  “I wish it was that easy.”

  “But it is.”

  “Jolene—”

  Rachel had barely begun to speak when his daughter rounded the corner with two of her schoolfriends.

  “I thought so!” Jolene yelled, hands on her hips. Bruce recognized the girls, although he couldn’t recall their names. “I knew you were coming to see Rachel.”

  Next she glared at Rachel. “I don’t care what my dad says, I don’t want you in our house ever again.”

  “Jolene!” Bruce snapped. “You’re being rude and your behavior is unacceptable. This is between Rachel and me. Now please leave. We’ll talk later,” he said in as ominous a tone as he could manage.

  “I have as much of a right to be here as anyone.” Her eyes sparked with indignation. She was obviously drawing strength from the presence of her friends, who stood with her, forming a silent barrier. Turning to confront Rachel, Jolene continued, “Having you out of the house has been great and I don’t want you back.”

  “Jolene, stop right this minute!” Bruce shouted. He lunged and grabbed his daughter by the shoulders. “I told you, this is between Rachel and me!”

  “No, it isn’t,” his daughter insisted. “I live in the house, too, and it’s either me or Rachel because if she comes back, then I’m leaving.”

  That was an empty threat if there ever was one. “And where exactly would you go?”

  “I’ll run away.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Rachel cried, covering her mouth as she struggled to hold back a sob.

  Jane, the salon manager, approached them. “I’d appreciate it if the three of you would take this elsewhere. We have customers here, and you’re causing a scene.”

  Until then Bruce hadn’t realized that there were two or three ladies in the waiting area a few feet away. His focus had been on Rachel to the exclusion of everyone else—until Jolene arrived.

  Taking his wife’s hand, Bruce led her out of the salon, although they remained in full view of the customers. In fact, they were attracting a lot of attention—and not just from Get Nailed. Everyone in the mall seemed to be staring at them.

  Rachel noticed this, as well. “I think it would be best if you all just left,” she said, avoiding eye contact. Then she raised her head to meet Jolene’s gaze.

  “I can’t leave you like this,” Bruce muttered. “If anyone needs to go, it’s Jolene and her entourage.” He looked pointedly at his daughter, demanding that she give him some privacy.

  Jolene folded her arms rebelliously and refused to budge. “No way.”

  “Just go,” Rachel pleaded, easing away from Bruce. “Like Jane said, you’re causing a scene.”

  “I don’t care.” He ignored his daughter and focused on Rachel. He understood now that he hadn’t really grasped the extent of Jolene’s selfishness. He didn’t know how his daughter’s dislike of Rachel had reached this point. Nor did he know what had torn the two of them apart in the first place. At one time they’d been so close….

  “Don’t worry, Jolene,” Rachel said. “You can have your father all to yourself.”

  His daughter’s smile could have lit up the entire mall. “Good.” To his shock, she and her posse of friends exchanged high fives.

  With that, Rachel started to walk away, then apparently had a change of heart because she turned back. “Bruce, it would be better if you didn’t come here again.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  “If you do show up, I’ll get a job somewhere else. This is embarrassing to me and the salon.”

  Bruce shook his head, unwilling to stay away.

  “If anything like this happens again, Jane’s going to find an excuse to fire me.”

  Bruce had trouble believing that. But before he could respond, his daughter grabbed his hand. “Let’s go,” she said. “We don’t need Rachel.”

  “I need Rachel,” he countered, pulling his hand free. “And our baby needs his or her father.”

  “What about me?” Jolene demanded. “What about my needs?”

  Rachel’s eyes locked with his. “Don’t come back here.”

  “Okay, fine, but we need to talk.”

  “No, you don’t,” Jolene inserted.

  “Jolene, leave me and Rachel alone,” Bruce said furiously. He refused to have her interfering in his life like this. It was time she recognized her role in the breakup of his marriage. And, he told himself, it was time he admitted that he’d allowed her to do the damage she had.

  “We need to talk,” he said again, wanting Rachel to know how important she was to him. Somehow, some way, they’d find a solution.

  “No.” Rachel’s voice was adamant. “If this…incident today did anything, it solidified my reasons for leaving. I won’t go back to a house filled with tension and strife. It isn’t good for me or the pregnancy.”

  “What about—”

  Bruce didn’t get a chance to finish as Rachel left him standing in the center of the mall with a dozen faces staring at him.

  “Come on, Dad,” Jolene said, all sweetness now. “Let’s go home.”

  Bruce couldn’t bear to even look at his daughter. If he opened his mouth, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to curb his anger. So he simply turned and walked away.

  Five

  “Mom, you’re wearing that goofy look again,” Tanni Bliss said as she strolled into the kitchen and selected an apple from the fruit bowl on the table.

  “What look?” Shirley asked, although she knew exactly what her daughter meant. She’d just spent nearly two hours on the phone with Larry Knight, a nationally renowned artist—and the man she was now seeing. Although “seeing” wasn’t quite the right term, considering how much he traveled. They’d met at the Seattle Art Museum a few months earlier and been in frequent touch ever since.

  Larry was a widower of five years’ standing, while Shirley had lost her husband to a motorcycle accident the January before last. She’d thought she’d never recover after Jim’s death. She’d been convinced that falling in love again was out of the question.

  Then she’d met Larry…. The problem was that he lived in California and traveled a great deal—with his art exhibits, doing the lecture circuit, taking part in panels and interviews. They spoke every day now and emailed between conversations. They saw each other whenever possible, which wasn’t nearly often enough to suit either of them.

  “So, where’s Larry now?” Tanni asked.

  “He’s in New Mexico.” He might as well be on the moon. Without email and phone calls, she felt she’d slowly go insane. Or maybe not so slowly! She’d forgotten what it was like to fall in love. She’d been a college student when she met and married Jim. He’d been in the air force at the time and was about to be
discharged. Eager to get on with an airline, Jim had set his sights on living in the Pacific Northwest. Once she’d visited the Seattle area, Shirley had agreed. This would be a lovely place to live and raise their children.

  After Jim had been hired by Alaska Airlines, they’d settled in Cedar Cove and turned the basement of their large sprawling home into a studio for Shirley. She would’ve been content to remain exactly where she was for the rest of her days. Until the accident…

  And, even then, she couldn’t imagine moving. But she’d met Larry, and that changed everything.

  “When are you two getting married?” Tanni asked, breaking into her musings.

  “Married!” Shirley gasped. “We hardly know each other.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom. You haven’t been yourself ever since the day you first laid eyes on him.”

  No use denying the obvious. “I know.”

  “It’s not like I haven’t noticed. You’re crazy about Larry.”

  “True.”

  “So what’s holding you back?”

  “Well, for one thing, Larry hasn’t asked.”

  “Oh?” Tanni made it sound like she had insider information.

  Shirley was tempted to ask if her daughter knew something she didn’t. Larry and Tanni chatted frequently, although she assumed her daughter had been looking for information about Shaw, the boy she’d once dated. The boy Larry had assisted in securing a place at the art institute in San Francisco.

  “Has…has he mentioned that he’s going to ask me to marry him?” Shirley didn’t make eye contact. She felt guilty for even asking.

  “No.”

  So much for that.

  “But if he did propose, what would you say?” Tanni asked.

  Her daughter was teasing her. Playing along, she shrugged as if the question was of no real concern. “I’d probably tell him it was too soon and we should date a year or two first.”

  Tanni burst out laughing. “You’re joking.”

  She was, but that was irrelevant. Larry hadn’t proposed and, even if he did, it would be far too soon to make such a major decision. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could just move to California. Tanni had a year of high school left, and Shirley’s home and life were here in Cedar Cove.

  “I’m not joking,” Shirley said. “What are your plans this weekend?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.

  “I thought I’d get together with Kristen and then we might hang with Jeremy.”

  At one time Kristen had been Tanni’s sworn enemy. Shirley hadn’t understood her daughter’s intense dislike of the other girl. She suspected it was because Kristen was blonde, beautiful and extremely popular. Boys were drawn to her in a way Tanni seemed to find foreign. Shirley wondered if her daughter resented that she’d only had one boyfriend in her whole life and that relationship was unraveling. Tanni had felt powerless; she hadn’t wanted to lose Shaw, although in retrospect it was the best thing for both of them. They were too young and far too emotionally dependant on each other.

  “Are you and Jeremy an item now or—”

  “Mom,” Tanni cut her off. “First of all, item is totally dated. Also, we’ve talked a couple of times and that’s it. Don’t go making more out of it than there is, okay?” Her voice rang with irritation, a tone that was familiar from the weeks and months following Jim’s death.

  Shirley instantly backed away from the sensitive topic. “Miranda and I were talking about seeing a movie.”

  At the mention of Shirley’s best friend, Tanni grinned.

  “What’s so funny?” Shirley asked.

  “Miranda.”

  “What about her?” She and Miranda had been friends for years. Miranda was a widow, too; she’d been married to an artist, which was one reason she understood Shirley’s artistic temperament. Shirley had fun with Miranda and appreciated her encouragement, her loyalty and support. Miranda could be opinionated and headstrong, but that didn’t bother Shirley. If they didn’t agree, Shirley had no problem either arguing with Miranda or ignoring her views.

  “I think Miranda likes Will Jefferson,” Tanni commented.

  Miranda had recently taken a part-time job with Will at the gallery. The fact that she’d even accepted the position had surprised Shirley, since Will and Miranda seemed to disagree on almost everything—and not in a friendly way, either.

  If what Tanni said was true, and Shirley strongly suspected it was, poor Miranda was setting herself up for heartache. Shirley had recognized the type of man Will Jefferson was ten seconds into their first meeting. Will was all about Will, as Tanni might have put it. Handsome and charming, he was accustomed to having women fawn over him. More than that, he’d come to expect it.

  Shirley had to admit Miranda didn’t possess the classic beauty that typically appealed to men like Will Jefferson. Tall and solidly built, Miranda easily stood five-eleven, and with heels—although she rarely wore anything but sensible shoes—she was over six feet tall.

  Shirley felt that Will’s usual preference was an empty-headed woman so he could be her intellectual superior. Miranda was his equal in every way. The fact that Will had made a blatant play for Shirley was—to her mind—more of an insult than a compliment.

  Even Tanni had picked up on Miranda’s interest in him and Shirley worried for her friend. She doubted that Miranda was prepared for a Will Jefferson or the effect he might have on her emotions.

  “What movie are you going to see?” Tanni asked, unaware of the thoughts swirling around in Shirley’s head.

  “We haven’t decided yet.”

  “I’ll be home before ten,” Tanni said, reaching for her car keys. She was out the door, munching on the apple as she went.

  Pouring herself a cup of coffee from the pot she’d made earlier, Shirley sat down at the kitchen table, wondering what to do with this unwelcome information. If she said anything to Miranda, it would only embarrass her friend. And any warning about Will would likely be dismissed out of hand.

  Shirley glanced at her watch and, noticing the time, quickly got up from her chair. Taking one last sip, she left the mug in the kitchen sink, hurried to change her clothes and freshen her makeup, then headed out the door. She was supposed to meet Miranda at the Harbor Street Art Gallery at three-thirty.

  The drive took less than ten minutes. When she stepped into the gallery, the first thing she heard was Miranda’s raised voice. “I’m telling you, the Chandler painting will look better on this wall,” she was saying.

  “No! It’d be better there,” Will Jefferson said, just as heatedly.

  “Hello?” Shirley called out.

  Miranda responded immediately. “Shirley, come over here. We need your opinion.”

  Great. Now she was going to be drawn into this argument, too. She walked toward them and glanced at the painting that seemed to be the subject of their disagreement. “Are you ready for the movie, Miranda?” she asked, hoping to avoid taking sides.

  “Look at this,” Miranda insisted, gesturing at the watercolor.

  The piece was stunning, the color choices vibrant and inviting. It portrayed a young girl in a blue cotton summer dress, biking past a white picket fence in a seashore town. A wide variety of flowers bloomed along the fence line. The girl’s innocence was in subtle contrast to her unconscious feminine appeal. In style, it was naturalistic but its shimmering colors were influenced by classic Impressionism. “This is a lovely work.”

  “I agree,” Will said, speaking for the first time. “And I want it displayed in the way that will benefit it the most.”

  “I think it should be on this wall and Will says—quite irrationally, I believe—that it should be there.” Miranda indicated the opposite side of the gallery.

  “Irrational,” Will repeated from between clenched teeth. “If anyone’s irrational, it’s you. If we hang the painting on the wall I suggest, it’ll be the first thing people see when they enter the gallery.”

  “This wall reveals it in the best light,” Miranda countered.
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  “You both have valid points,” Shirley said when they turned to her. “Why don’t you compromise?”

  “No.” Will shook his head. “This is my gallery, despite what Miranda seems to think, and we’ll do this my way because—” he paused “—I’m the boss.” This was said in a challenging voice, as if he expected Miranda to resign. As if he wanted her to.

  “Fine. Hang it wherever you like,” Miranda said, brushing her hands in exasperation.

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Miranda sighed and, ignoring Will, said, “Have you ever noticed how important it is to the fragile male ego to have the last word?”

  Shirley tried to disguise a smile, but Will obviously wasn’t amused.

  He bristled. “That is categorically untrue.”

  Motioning with her head, Miranda seemed to imply that his statement only proved her point.

  “Are you ready to go now?” Shirley asked.

  “Be right with you.” Miranda disappeared around the corner and returned an instant later with her purse and raincoat.

  “Which movie are you going to?” Will asked Shirley conversationally.

  “Not sure yet.”

  “Well, have fun.”

  “We will,” Miranda muttered.

  He walked them to the door. “I’ve got you on the schedule for Monday,” he said.

  “Monday?” Miranda frowned. “I thought I only worked Tuesday, Friday and Saturday.”

  “Would you mind filling in for me? I’m meeting with the insurance people on behalf of my mother and Ben.”

  “No, of course I don’t mind, but I would’ve appreciated knowing about it sooner.”

  “Sorry. I forgot to mention it.”

  They stared at each other and then Miranda nodded. “I’ll be here at ten.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” she said brusquely.

  As they made their way to her car, Shirley considered Tanni’s observation about Miranda’s feelings for Will. She also suspected that, despite their bickering, he was actually fond of her—and maybe he respected her more than he let on. He’d certainly come to rely on her.