92 Pacific Boulevard

by Debbie Macomber

  Mack didn’t like the sound of this. “What exactly does that mean?” he asked.

  The look she shot him said it all. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “No, you don’t, because you’d feel obliged to defend the male gender and it would only end with us agreeing to disagree. You can’t tell me anything Linc hasn’t already said.”

  “Like what?”

  Crossing her arms again, she sighed loudly. “That all men aren’t like David.”

  “They aren’t.”

  “I realize that. My dad was a wonderful husband and father, and there are still a few decent men left in this world. Cliff Harding, for example.”

  He noticed he hadn’t been mentioned but decided not to take it personally. “If you believe that,” he said, “then why are you finished with men?”

  “Because,” she said, leaning forward, “I know there are good guys. That’s not the problem. The problem is being able to tell who’s good and who’s a jerk. Unfortunately, my jerk detector is clearly out of whack.”

  “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “Nope. Because you know something? David wasn’t the first.”

  Mack’s eyes narrowed.

  “I mean…I never went as far…got as involved with a man the way I did with David. But before I met him, there was a guy at work who completely charmed me. Not until later did I discover he was married. We never really went out or anything—I just had lunch with him or a drink after work. Nothing more than that. But I had no idea he was lying, too. Lying by omission, anyway.” She glanced at Mack over her shoulder as she paced. “Other women seem to have that filter, you know, the instinct that tunes them in to a man’s motives. I don’t, so I can’t trust myself with men. Another relationship isn’t worth the risk.”

  Setting down his coffee cup, Mack mulled over her words. “So I guess that’s it.”

  “That’s it. I have my daughter, and from now on it’ll be just the two of us. As soon as I find another job, I’m going to get an apartment and move there and live on my own, free of my brothers and free of men entirely.”

  Mary Jo looked over at him as if daring him to comment.

  “This wouldn’t be a good time to ask you out on a date, then, would it?”

  Her head reared back in surprise and she smiled. “Are you sure you mean that?”

  Mack grinned up at her. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Chapter Ten

  Grace Harding was working in her small office at the library when Sally Overland, a recent hire, knocked politely at her half-open door. Grace wondered how she’d be able to concentrate on the endless stack of paperwork if she was constantly interrupted. The morning was already gone, and she’d hardly made a dent.

  “Come in,” she called. None of her other assistants would’ve waited for permission.

  Sally stuck her head in the door. “There’s someone by the name of Olivia who’s here to see you. She said she’s a friend.”

  Grace leaped to her feet, nearly upending her chair. “Olivia’s here?”

  Sally, who was young and somewhat lacking in confidence, widened her eyes. “Yes. I hope I did the right thing. I told her you were busy, but she said you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.”

  Sally stepped aside and Olivia entered the office wearing her long black wool coat and a bright red knit cap.

  Grace walked around her desk and gave her closest friend a careful hug. Olivia was pale, but then she had been for months. Pale and thin…and now bald.

  “What are you doing here?” Grace demanded.

  “What do you mean?” Olivia asked in the same tone of voice. “I brought back a library book and wanted to see if you’d had lunch yet.”

  “No. Do you feel good enough to be out and about?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Olivia stated with perfect logic. “Where would you like to go?”

  “You choose,” Grace said. She knew Olivia didn’t have much of an appetite and whatever appealed to her was fine with Grace.

  Olivia shrugged. “Anyplace will do. What sounds good is a cup of tea.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Maybe some soup.”

  “Pot Belly Deli?”

  “Great.”

  Olivia smiled, and Grace grabbed her coat, scarf and purse. Together they headed toward the main library door. Grace quickly told Sally where she’d be.

  Although the deli was less than three blocks away, Grace insisted on driving. She didn’t want Olivia to risk catching a chill while her immune system was compromised because of the cancer treatments. Nor did she want her to get tired out from the walk.

  Just before Christmas, Olivia had been hospitalized with a massive infection. A shiver of fear skittered down Grace’s spine at the memory of how close they’d come to losing her. No, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  “You’re treating me as if I’m made of porcelain,” Olivia complained, but not too strenuously, Grace noted.

  “Don’t waste your breath arguing.”

  “You always were bossy,” Olivia said as she slid into the passenger seat.

  “Uh-huh.” Grace wasn’t about to let her friend have the last word.

  Thankfully, she found a parking spot directly in front of the deli. It was late enough that the noon crowd had left, so they had their pick of tables.

  As soon as they were seated, Grace smiled at the young waitress. “What’s your soup for today?”

  “Cream of broccoli,” the girl, who didn’t look more than eighteen, told her.

  “We’ll both have that,” Grace said.

  “With tea,” Olivia added. “Earl Grey, please.”

  The girl made a notation on the pad and disappeared. Once she was out of earshot, Olivia leaned forward. “Mom’s got the best broccoli soup recipe. I think she had it here first and then went home and created her own version. My mother should have a cooking show, don’t you think?”

  Grace laughed. “Can’t you picture it? Chef Charlotte making muffins and chatting up celebrity guests.” She removed her scarf and unfastened her coat, then folded it over the back of her chair. “She’d be terrific. And she can make anything taste wonderful.”

  Olivia nodded, smiling. “She believes in cooking with quality ingredients—and love.”

  “I’ve only seen your mother in passing since the cruise. She had a good time?”

  “She did. Ben, too, although they were hit with the news about David’s baby the minute they got home, which upset them both.”

  “That’s too bad,” Grace said, her voice grim. She blamed David, maybe not for the pregnancy, since both partners had played a role in that, but he’d clearly lied to the poor girl about his intentions. And his behavior afterward had been appalling—his refusal to acknowledge the baby or accept his responsibilities as a father.

  “I think this is the final straw as far as Ben is concerned,” Olivia said, smoothing her napkin across her lap. “Apparently he’s only spoken to David once since they got home from the cruise. He told Mom that if David phones again, he doesn’t want to talk to him.”

  “I can understand why Ben’s so upset.”

  “So can I,” Olivia said. “He’s taking this hard. Ben’s such an honorable man that his son’s behavior—deceiving and deluding a sweet girl like Mary Jo—makes it all the more painful.” She shook her head. “I didn’t stop by to discuss David, though. The subject depresses me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Did I tell you what Mom’s been doing lately?”

  “You mean other than visiting you?” Grace joked. It was common knowledge that Charlotte made a habit of checking up on Olivia every few days.

  “She’s been collecting all her favorite recipes for Justine’s tearoom. Which means she’s writing some of them down for the very first time.”

  Grace had driven past the construction site that morning and was astonished by the progr
ess that had been made in the past month. “The building’s really coming along, isn’t it?”

  “When my daughter wants something, she tends to get it.”

  “She’s another Charlotte in the making.”

  “That and more,” Olivia said. “She’s starting a brand-new business, balancing that with looking after her family and getting ready for the baby…”

  “How’s she feeling?”

  “Very well, she says. She’s just begun to show. I hope she has a girl this time.” Olivia hesitated as if she’d suddenly realized what she’d said. “Of course we’d welcome another grandson with equal enthusiasm.”

  “Of course you would.”

  “How are your girls?” Olivia asked.

  “Maryellen and Kelly are doing great.”

  The door opened at that moment and in walked Sheriff Troy Davis. He touched the brim of his hat when he saw them, a habitual gesture of his, then stepped up to the counter and ordered coffee to go.

  As Grace was filling Olivia in on the latest news about her grandchildren, Troy came to their table, clutching his take-out mug.

  “Nice to see you both,” he said. He frowned at the wool cap Olivia wore, then quickly glanced away.

  Grace could see that Olivia was trying to squelch a smile. “Hey, Sheriff, don’t be so worried. I’ll live.”

  “Glad to hear it. So, what are you two doing here at—” he looked pointedly at his watch “—the middle of the afternoon?”

  “I’m on leave,” Olivia said, although she knew he was well aware of that.

  “I’m having a late lunch,” Grace added.

  He motioned toward the front window. “Is that your vehicle in the disabled parking space?”

  “Ah…my car?”

  “I guess you didn’t see the sign.”

  “Oh, dear. Did you give me a ticket?” Usually she was more observant than this.

  “No, but I’d advise you to move it before one of my deputies does.”

  Grace scooped up her purse, grateful for the warning. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” Troy said. He seemed to be watching her as she left.

  Grace saw that as soon as she was out the door, Troy slid into her seat. Not until she reached her vehicle did she realize the disabled space was one down from where she’d parked. She was perfectly legal exactly where she was.

  It wasn’t like Troy to make that kind of mistake, and she started back toward the deli. Then it dawned on her that Troy had purposely sent her on a wild-goose chase because he wanted time alone with Olivia. Assuming that was the case, she’d accommodate him.

  Grace slid inside the car and circled the block twice, then located another slot close by. She figured that would give Troy ample opportunity to divulge whatever he had on his mind. Naturally she intended to drill Olivia the instant they were alone.

  When she returned to the deli, their soup and tea had been served, together with a basket of sourdough bread. When Troy saw her, he stood and made his farewells.

  The moment the door closed behind him, Grace said, “I wasn’t parked in a disabled space.”

  “I know.”

  “Troy just wanted to get rid of me.”

  Olivia’s spoon hovered over her soup. “I know that, too. He asked me to apologize.”

  Grace waited for an explanation that didn’t seem to be forthcoming. She couldn’t understand why her friend was suddenly so tight-lipped. “Aren’t you going to tell me why he found it necessary to speak to you alone?”

  “I haven’t decided,” Olivia answered with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Olivia! Don’t hold out on me now.”

  “All right, all right,” Olivia said, doing her best to hide a smile. “He wanted some advice.”

  “About what?” Grace narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t realize you and Troy were such bosom buddies.”

  “We aren’t. He just knows me better because of my years on the bench.”

  “He knows me, too! Good grief, we all went through twelve years of school together. What could he possibly say to you that he couldn’t say to me?” She felt a bit hurt that Troy had sought out Olivia and not her.

  “Okay, if you must know,” Olivia said, “he wanted to ask me about Faith Beckwith.”

  Grace shook her head. “Faith’s our tenant, remember? If he needed to find anything out, he could’ve asked me.”

  “Well, he told me the two of them had a thing going, and—”

  “That’s not news! Although they don’t seem to be dating now. I wonder what happened…” She let the rest fade, hoping Olivia would fill in the blanks.

  “Unfortunately Troy didn’t have time to go into detail,” Olivia said. She looked at Grace with mock disdain. “It might have taken you a bit longer to find a parking spot, you know.”

  Grace had no intention of responding. She wanted facts—now. “Okay, so they had a ‘thing’ going and then what?”

  “He didn’t really say other than that he broke it off, regretted it and, when he wanted to get back together, Faith wasn’t interested.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “Maybe, but we both know Troy isn’t fickle. Faith should give him a bit of leeway, don’t you think?”

  Grace considered that. “Depends.” She didn’t want to get caught up in a debate about the right or wrong of his decision, not when there was obviously more to the story. “So what else?” she pressed.

  “Like I said, he didn’t have time to give me any details.” She raised her eyebrows, which Grace ignored.

  “And now Troy’s upset because he loves Faith and wants her back.” How like a man!

  Olivia took Troy’s side. “She broke his heart.”

  Grace pretended to be sympathetic, but in her opinion he got what he deserved. “Poor Troy,” she said in a perfunctory tone.

  “That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to talk me about, though.”

  Oh! This was getting interesting. “He didn’t want advice about Faith?”

  “Well, sort of. Something else happened that’s got him in a real state.”

  When Olivia didn’t immediately continue, Grace snapped, “For heaven’s sake, don’t stop there! What happened?”

  “Last night, on his way home, Troy saw Faith having dinner with another man.”

  Grace picked up her spoon, then put it down again. This was far more intriguing than cream of broccoli soup. “What do you mean, he saw her with someone else? What did he do, drive his patrol car through a restaurant door?”

  “Of course not. He was hungry and felt like some Chinese food, so he ordered takeout from Wok ‘n’ Roll. He walked inside to pick up his order—and who should he see?”

  “Faith,” Grace answered.

  “Yes, Faith, and she was with…a man. She had her back to him but Troy knew it was her and she seemed to be having the time of her life.”

  Grace had another question. “So, who was he?” she asked, lowering her voice. “This man she was with.”

  Olivia acted as if Grace hadn’t even spoken. “Poor Troy was devastated. He said it was all he could do not to march up to the table and tell…this other man to stay away from Faith.”

  “Not a smart idea.”

  “I said the same thing.”

  “So what did he do?” Grace asked.

  “Nothing much. He paid for his dinner, left and then seethed for the rest of the night. Judging by his expression, I’d say it’s still bothering him.”

  “Did Faith see him?” Grace wanted to know.

  “He thinks she might have.”

  “In that case, they probably both feel bad. Because Faith would know he was upset, and she isn’t the kind of woman who enjoys hurting someone else.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Okay, so tell me who Faith’s hot date was.”

  Olivia paused, and Grace’s heart sank. “He’s married, isn’t he? That’s why you don’t want to tell me.”

  “No, that’s not it. In fact,
once I say his name it won’t surprise you at all.”

  So Olivia was going to make her guess. That wasn’t fair—and then it came to her. Shocked, she pressed both hands against the table and half stood. “No way?”

  Olivia knew immediately that Grace had figured it out. Slowly, with her eyes closed, she nodded.

  “Your brother, Will Jefferson, is dating Faith?”

  Olivia exhaled sharply. “So it seems.”

  “Well…he’s divorced and she’s a widow. So I guess there’s nothing really wrong with it.”

  “But the last I heard,” Olivia said, “he was interested in Shirley Bliss.”

  Grace tore a piece of bread. “I know Will’s your brother and you love him, but I also know a basic fact about him. He’s not a one-woman man.”

  Olivia sighed. “I certainly can’t deny it, at least going by previous experience.”

  “Are you going to say anything to Faith?” Grace asked.

  Olivia shook her head.

  “Then I won’t, either.”

  Chapter Eleven

  This was so embarrassing. Unfortunately, Christie didn’t have any alternative. She needed a vehicle; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to get to work except by walking or biking. A bicycle might be okay once spring arrived, and she could probably buy one secondhand, but that didn’t help her now. So far, winter had set all kinds of records for cold and snowfall. Slogging through slush and fierce wind left much to be desired.

  The sad reality was that after many temporary fixes, her car was dead. There was no possibility of reviving it. The junkyard had offered her a flat hundred bucks and she took it. That hundred dollars, however, wasn’t going to provide reliable transportation. Her only recourse was to ask for a loan—and the only person she could approach was her sister, Teri.

  With a knot in her stomach, Christie made the call. Teri answered so quickly, she must’ve been sitting next to the phone.

  “Can you talk?” she asked, trying to keep any hint of anxiety out of her voice.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’d rather do this face-to-face,” Christie told her. She felt like weeping, which was an anomaly on its own. She didn’t easily give in to emotion. Oh, she’d cried her share of tears, but generally it took a crisis like having her bank account emptied by some low-life scum she’d been convinced she could reform. She’d wept buckets over that, and her divorce, too. What upset her this time was the fact that it wasn’t a man but a stupid car.