Roy didn’t know how to answer. He shrugged. “Two of the four men are dead. One was murdered and the other committed suicide.”
“What about the fourth man?”
“Apparently Davis has talked to Colonel Stewart Samuels. He told me he didn’t think Samuels is involved-but who knows?”
Corrie looked down at the file and picked up the top sheet. “It says here he’s up for a Congressional Committee assignment. If news of what happened in Nam got out, it could be disastrous to his career, don’t you think?”
“True.” Roy was well aware of that, but Samuels’s military record was impeccable. And he lived on the East Coast. His whereabouts were accounted for during the time around Maxwell Russell’s death. To be on the safe side, Roy had checked into the weeks shortly after Dan Sherman’s disappearance, but Samuels had been in Europe, on a NATO assignment.
Corrie poured a second mug of coffee, black, and sat in the chair across from Roy’s desk. “Linnette phoned this morning.” Their twenty-five-year-old daughter had recently graduated as a physician’s assistant.
Roy brightened. He adored Linnette and felt close to her. She was bright, beautiful and a source of pride. Her brother was another story. Roy and Mack were frequently at odds. Linnette had done well in school and Mack, to put it bluntly, hadn’t.
“She’s applying for a job in Montana, of all places.”
With the majority of physicians choosing to work in big cities, many small towns were left without medical professionals. Although she’d grown up in Seattle, Linnette had always been drawn to rural areas, so Roy wasn’t surprised by her decision. She’d be filling a critical need and living in the sort of place she liked.
“Did you hear me, Roy? Montana?”
He wasn’t sure what had upset Corrie so much. When Linnette had entered the medical program, they’d both known she wouldn’t settle down in Seattle.
“I don’t want her moving two states away!”
“Corrie-”
He wasn’t allowed to finish.
“Linnette doesn’t know a soul in Montana. There’s plenty of small towns in Washington State that need physician’s assistants.”
Roy made an effort to hold back his amusement. “It’s time to cut the apron strings, Mother.”
Evidently not a successful effort. Corrie cast him an exasperated look. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Roy McAfee.”
“Yes, dear.”
“You’re not funny. You know that, don’t you?”
Roy resisted answering, although it was a struggle. “Where would you be comfortable having Linnette find a job?”
Corrie bit her bottom lip and didn’t answer him.
“I have the feeling you’d like her to move right here to Cedar Cove,” he joked.
At that his wife’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. She set down her coffee, then leapt out of her chair, raced around the desk and kissed him soundly.
“What was that all about?” Roy asked, pleasantly surprised.
“It’s because you, my wonderful husband, are much smarter than I give you credit for.”
Bewildered, Roy watched her fly out of his office.
Chapter Ten
Grace thrust her hands decisively into her garden gloves, ready to head out to the back garden to plant Martha Washington geraniums. It wasn’t the way she wanted to spend Friday evening, but she refused to mope around the house. Buttercup waited for her at the kitchen door, tail wagging.
“We’ll plant these now and see what we can find at the Farmers’ Market tomorrow morning. That sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?” The fact that Grace had begun to carry on whole conversations with her golden retriever had to be a sign of how lonely she was.
The Farmers’ Market had started the first Saturday of May, and although there were only a few homegrown vegetables available this early in the season, Grace enjoyed going there each week. She almost always ran into a few friends. One or both of her daughters was likely to show up, as well.
The phone rang, startling Grace. She pulled off her righthand glove and reached for the wall-mounted receiver.
“Hello.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice, hoping with all her heart that it was Cliff. He’d weighed heavily on her mind since their chance encounter at the restaurant earlier in the week. Her hope was that he’d been thinking about her, too.
“It’s Stanley Lockhart, Grace. How are you?”
Grace felt an immediate stab of disappointment. “Hello, Stan.” She kept her voice cool, not wanting to encourage Olivia’s ex-husband. “I’m fine.”
“Me, too. Listen, would you like to go to dinner tonight?”
She glanced over at the can of clam chowder that was slated to be her evening meal. Still, she preferred to eat soup alone over a three-course meal with Stan Lockhart.
“Sorry, I already have plans.”
“You can’t change them?” He didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.
“No.” How like Stan to expect her to alter her evening because he needed a dinner companion.
“What if I stop by later?” His enthusiasm was back. “It’s important.”
“That won’t work, either.” She couldn’t imagine what he had to tell her that was so urgent. Grace sincerely hoped he got the message, but the subtle approach wasn’t always successful with Stan. Inbred politeness prevented her from being rude and telling him outright that she wanted to avoid him.
The line went quiet as he contemplated her refusal. “I see,” he said, sounding depressed. “Gracie, listen, I hate to be a pest but I’d like to talk to you if we can manage it.”
Gracie. From the time she was in grade school, Grace had detested that nickname. She gritted her teeth. Stan hadn’t been in touch since that one dinner. Now this. She couldn’t even guess what he wanted.
“Why don’t you tell me what you need to see me about?”
He hesitated. “It’s better if I do it in person. Is there anyplace we can meet? Drinks? Coffee? You say when and where, and I’ll be there.” His tone took on a pleading quality. Grace knew that Stan’s second marriage had recently failed; he still seemed to be shaken. She sympathized, but she didn’t want to get involved with him.
“It won’t take much of your time, I promise.”
She hesitated, fearing that he’d hound her until she gave in. “I plan to be at the Farmers’ Market in the morning.”
“Perfect.” He leaped on the suggestion. “I’ll see you there. What time?”
“It opens at nine.”
“Make it later. Nine’s a little early for me.”
So now he expected her to change her Saturday schedule to suit his? What sympathy she felt for him quickly evaporated. “I’ll be there at nine, Stan. If I see you then, that’ll be fine and if I don’t, I don’t.”
“All right, all right. I’ll get there as close to nine as I can. Just remember I’m coming over from Seattle.”
She’d forgotten that, but decided it didn’t matter; he was the one who considered it so important that they meet.
Saturday morning, Grace loaded Buttercup into her car and drove to the Farmers’ Market. Buttercup was a well-behaved dog who loved being around people. The animal shelter had set up an adoption center in the market. Every Saturday the shelter brought down homeless cats and kittens; once a month, Grace took her turn running their booth, which was popular with children and adults alike.
Buttercup strained against her leash in a hurry to view the kittens, and Grace sharply commanded her to heel. She’d been thinking about adopting a cat herself, since she felt bad about leaving Buttercup alone all day and a cat would be company for her.
“Mom.”
Grace turned to find Maryellen pushing Katie in her stroller. “I wondered if I’d see you here.” The back section of the stroller was already full.
Grace bent down and kissed Katie, who gurgled and wa
ved her arms. Maryellen positively glowed with happiness, and Grace was delighted. Maryellen was more confident and relaxed, more carefree somehow, than she’d ever been. And-equally important-Katie would have the benefit of growing up with two parents.
“You’re out and about early,” she said conversationally.
“Jon’s working and won’t be home until late afternoon.”
That meant her son-in-law was somewhere in western Washington photographing trees or birds. Or something.
“I love married life,” Maryellen burst out. “Oh, Mom, how could I have been so foolish? Jon is a wonderful husband and father.”
“Honey, I’m thrilled for you.”
“I’d better get back to the house. I bought three pounds of fresh clams and I need to get them into the refrigerator.”
“I didn’t think you liked clams.”
“I don’t, but Jon does.”
It seemed to Grace that if Jon indulged Maryellen, as she often claimed, her daughter catered to Jon just as much.
Grace bought a pound of clams herself and a jar of marmalade from Carol, the lady who sold homemade jelly. She glanced around and didn’t see Stan and figured that was for the best. After strolling down the other aisles, she made her way toward the parking lot.
“Grace,” Stan called, waving vigorously. He stood on the marina walkway. “Over here.”
With Buttercup trotting beside her, Grace walked to the marina area.
“Seth suggested I sleep in his boat,” Stan explained. He looked like he was ready for a tennis date, wearing white shorts and a white cable-knit sweater with a red-and-blue border.
“How’s it going?” he asked, striking a relaxed pose, studying her as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start.
“Good.” She didn’t elaborate, preferring to skip the small talk. “What can I do for you?”
His smile was strained. “You know, since Marge and I split and Olivia married that newsman, I’ve been at loose ends.”
Grace didn’t like the sound of this. She wondered if he was leading up to asking her out again, and if that was the case, she simply wasn’t interested. She had to tell him before he went any further.
“Stan, I realize you must be lonely-”
“Lonely,” he repeated and shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “No, no, it isn’t that. I heard about the Dog and Bachelor Auction.”
It took Grace a moment to put two and two together-and then she upbraided herself for being so dense.
“I’d like to volunteer to be one of the bachelors,” Stan said eagerly.
She should’ve known. Stan had always enjoyed being the center of attention. The idea of women bidding on him…That would be the ultimate. In all fairness, he’d do a good job as someone’s date for an evening, provided whoever won him knew what to expect.
“It’s for charity, right?”
“To raise funds for the animal shelter,” she told him.
“Well, you know how I feel about animals.” He nodded sagely and she nodded, too, although she’d never noticed any particular liking for animals. “I’m willing to do my part,” he went on, “and since I’m available, well, why not?” He cast her a practiced smile. “I imagine I could bring in a few dollars for a worthy cause.”
“You don’t live in Cedar Cove, remember?”
“You’re right, but I did at one time and people here know me. Really, volunteering is the least I can do to help out, and I understand you’re the person to talk to.”
“Actually, two other women are gathering bachelors’ names, but I’d be happy to suggest yours.
Stan grinned. “Thanks.” Gratitude radiated from him. “I knew I could count on you.”
Buttercup wagged her tail and looked up, anticipating Stan’s attention. However the animal lover didn’t so much as glance in the dog’s direction.
“Have you already been to the market?” Stan asked.
The bags in her hands should be evidence that she had.
“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee and you can fill me in on the details about the auction? Maybe you could help me come up with a strategy.”
“A…strategy?”
“Yeah, you know. How to get the ladies to bid on me. Just how many women are expected?”
“I don’t know. The tickets haven’t gone on sale yet.”
“I just had a thought.” He straightened, seeming pleased with himself. “I imagine that if the women in town knew exactly who was up for auction, the animal shelter would sell more tickets, right?”
Grace wasn’t sure about that. “I suppose.”
“What if you printed the names of the bachelors directly on the tickets? That might generate even more interest, don’t you think?”
Stan was certainly full of ideas. “I’ll make that suggestion, too,” she murmured.
“Good.” His eyes brightened and Grace could see he was quite taken with this bachelor auction. During their one and only dinner date, Stan had practically been crying in his soup, wallowing in self-pity. He’d regrouped fast enough, she thought wryly.
“I’ll do what I can to make sure your name’s added to the list,” she said, eager to leave for home.
“Thanks, Gracie. I appreciate the fact that you’re such a good friend.”
Grace didn’t consider herself that much of a friend, but she let the comment-and the nickname-slide. She directed Buttercup toward the parking lot behind the library, where she’d left her car.
“Nice seeing you again, Grace.”
“You, too, Stan.”
“Oh, Grace.” He jogged the few steps over to her. “When you mention the idea about printing the names…”
“Yes?”
“Be sure and tell them it came from me.”
“Of course.” She ordered Buttercup to sit and dropped the leash for a moment so she could shift the heavy bags from one hand to the other.
“And seeing that it was my idea-” he paused and laughed playfully “-I think it’s only fair that my name be one of those on the list.”
“I’ll make sure that’s understood.”
“Great.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and briefly hugged her.
As if the thought had suddenly struck him, he asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Not a thing,” she assured him, surprised he’d asked.
“You’re sure.” His hands lingered on her shoulders.
“Positive.”
Just then, behind Stan, Grace caught sight of a male figure in a cowboy hat. No, please no, she prayed silently, don’t let that be Cliff. Her one fear was that he’d heard about her dinner date with Stan and would think she was foolish enough to get involved in a relationship with Olivia’s ex-husband.
Stan muttered something about needing to meet a friend. Before she could stop him, he gave her another quick hug and was gone.
Grace’s gaze remained fixed on the man with the Stetson. When Stan freed her and left, he no longer obscured her line of vision. Sure enough, it was Cliff. He stood staring at her and even from this distance, she could see him frowning.
She wanted to tell him it wasn’t the way it looked. She wasn’t involved with Stan. Nor did she want to be.
After a suspended moment, Cliff acknowledged her by touching the brim of his hat. Almost immediately, he turned away.
She wanted to rush over to him and explain, but feared she’d do more harm than good. With a heavy heart, Grace headed home.
Chapter Eleven
The board meeting over, Bob Beldon left the community theater, situated just off Heron Street. He’d been active in theater since his high-school days; drama class had been his favorite and he’d starred in a number of school productions. If not for Vietnam and everything that happened afterward, he might have considered a career on the stage.
These days he got what he called his “theater fix” by participating in local productions. Currently he served on the board of directors and the group had discussed a number
of potential plays for next year’s season.
Bob was still thinking about the merits of Our Town vs. The Matchmaker as he drove down the winding road that led to Cranberry Point. The name of the road always amused him. As far as he knew, there weren’t any cranberries growing in the area. There were cranberry bogs in Washington State, but none in or near Cedar Cove. Whistling “Hello, Dolly,” he continued driving, free for the moment of the burdens that oppressed him. This was what he loved about the theater. He could immerse himself in a role-in the whole process of staging a play-and put aside his troubles. His friends in AA might call it denial, but the theater gave him a ready excuse.
Knowing Peggy, she’d have dinner started. Since it was Monday, he guessed she’d probably prepared either stuffed green peppers or her fabulous meat loaf. Either meal suited him just fine.
Still whistling as he pulled into the driveway, he found his wife watering her herb garden. Any time of year, her gardens were something to behold. The name of their B and B, Thyme and Tide, had come from both their proximity to the sea and Peggy’s herbs. And of course the old saying about time and tide waiting for no man…
Speaking of time, without guests, they both had plenty of that on their hands. Money was tight, but Peggy was as skilled at budgeting as she was at every other household task. Bob couldn’t imagine how they’d manage their money situation otherwise, but thankfully Peggy had it all figured out.
He drove into the garage and then walked out to greet Peggy. Garden hose in hand, she smiled as he approached. The sun was still high, although it was almost six o’clock. According to the calendar, summer would officially arrive later in the month, but as usual it would take another six weeks to show up in the Pacific Northwest. August and September were almost always spectacular. Bob had to remind himself of that in February and March, when the constant drizzle dragged down his normally good spirits.
“Hi, honey,” Bob said. He stood at the edge of her garden. The fennel bulbs were flowering, and the parsley and cilantro were just peeking up from the dark, rich soil. “What’s for dinner?”
“Meat loaf. How’d the meeting go?”
“Just great.” He couldn’t contain his smile.
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