311 Pelican Court (18 page)

S
omething was wrong with Jon. Maryellen had been thinking about his strange behavior ever since he’d come to collect Katie the night before. Monday morning, as she pulled into the parking lot at the gallery, her troubled thoughts stayed with her. Harbor Street, which curved around the cove, was bright with Christmas lights arched over the street, and the traditional candy cane displays were suspended in a festive arrangement from the light posts.

Jon was wonderful with Katie, but lately he didn’t linger for more than a minute or two when he was picking her up. He’d even announced that he planned to drop Katie off at Kelly’s house rather than at Maryellen’s.

Until recently, Jon seemed to invent excuses to spend time with her, but now everything had changed. The only reason she could imagine was that he was involved with someone else. The possibility brought with it a curious ache, an unfamiliar distress. Maryellen feared this emotion was jealousy, and she hated the way it made her feel.

By midmorning, she had to know. The first person she asked for advice was her sister. In the first free moment she
had between cusomers she called Kelly, who answered right away.

“Hi,” Maryellen said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. “I just wanted to make sure Katie’s with you.”

“She is. Jon dropped her off an hour ago.”

“Good.” She strove to maintain a casual tone, although her curiosity was killing her. “How did he seem?”

“Jon? No different than any other time I’ve seen him. He came with Katie, spent a few minutes, exchanged high fives with Tyler and then was out the door. Any reason?”

Ten responses popped into her mind. “He…he seems different these days.”

“Different? How do you mean?”

Maryellen pressed the phone tighter to her ear. She didn’t want to admit he didn’t seem interested in her anymore, especially since that wasn’t even supposed to matter.

“Doesn’t it seem odd that Jon wants to drop Katie off at your house instead of mine?” she asked.

“No.” Kelly was nothing if not direct. “It makes sense. If he brings Katie back to you, he has to leave his place by seven-fifteen. If he drops Katie off at my place, he can sleep in and arrive any time he wants.”

“Oh.” Naturally her sister would say something completely reasonable and make Maryellen feel all the more ridiculous.

“Why else would he do it?” Kelly asked.

Maryellen hated to sound paranoid, but her concern had more to do with what she sensed about him than anything he’d said or done. “He…when he came by to pick up Katie yesterday afternoon, he didn’t stay a second longer than necessary.”

Kelly sighed. “Perhaps he had plans. He does have a life, you know.”

“I realize that.” Her sister didn’t understand. Jon always used to visit, sometimes for as much as an hour, but not anymore.

The sad part was that Maryellen had come to anticipate his company. She enjoyed their conversations. When he’d left so quickly on Sunday, she’d moped around the house, not knowing what to make of this sudden change in their routine.

“If you’re truly bothered, you should ask him,” Kelly advised.

“I can’t do that!” Her sister meant well, but Maryellen couldn’t pry into Jon’s life. After all, she was the one who’d spurned him.

“You can ask him indirectly,” Kelly suggested next.

Maryellen hadn’t dated since her divorce; she was seriously lacking in social finesse when it came to dealing with men. She wished she didn’t care.

“For heaven’s sake, just ask him,” Kelly said.

Kelly was sounding impatient, so Maryellen ended the call. “Okay, I will,” she promised.

She replaced the receiver and thought about what her sister had said—that she could find out what she needed to know by asking indirectly. That was an idea.

Of course, she
could
always talk to Justine. She and Seth owned the restaurant where Jon was employed as head chef. They were casual friends, and they’d both had babies during the summer. It would seem perfectly natural to inquire about the restaurant—and Jon. Still, it struck her as an underhanded means of acquiring information.

Perhaps Kelly was right. She should simply ask Jon.

Maryellen mulled over how to broach the subject with him and not sound paranoid or interfering. Two days later, she landed on an idea. She’d ask Jon to join her and her family for Christmas. This would be Katie’s first Christmas, and it seemed a shame to be shuffling their daughter back and forth over the holiday. They could all spend the day together.
It was a reasonable suggestion, and his answer would tell her everything she needed to know.

Maryellen bided her time. She waited another week, until Jon was scheduled to pick up Katie again. When he phoned to make the arrangements, she suggested they meet at the waterfront park. It was a bright, beautiful day and the small gazebo had a live Nativity scene. The local Methodist church routinely set this up; church members took turns playing the roles of Mary and Joseph, with live farm animals.

Jon was waiting for her when she arrived, standing away from the spectators, his camera around his neck. He leaned against the railing and straightened when he saw her approach.

She raised her hand and waved, and increased her pace as she pushed the stroller toward him. Katie was sound asleep, the diaper bag tucked in the rear of the stroller.

“I’m getting used to seeing you with shorter hair,” he said, and his gaze lingered on Maryellen for an extra moment, or so it seemed. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” This was going better than she’d expected. She felt the warmth in his eyes and it reassured her. “You look good yourself,” she said, recovering quickly.

He shrugged. He reached for the stroller handles; apparently he was ready to leave. Maryellen’s heart dropped. It was too soon.

“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked, and started to walk slowly down the path that wandered along the waterfront toward the marina. Many of the sailboats had decorated their masts with bright Christmas lights. In the summer, this area around the waterfront was filled with booths and stands—a local farmers’ market. At other times the paved area by the gazebo was a large parking lot.

“Sure,” Jon said, matching his steps to hers as he pushed the stroller.

“I was thinking,” she said, hesitating as her heart began to race. It might be silly to feel this way, but she was nervous and on edge.

At her pause, Jon turned to look at her.

“About Christmas,” she added. “I was thinking about the two of us sharing Katie.”

“I could take her Christmas Eve and you could have her Christmas Day,” Jon suggested.

“You’ve certainly been flexible with the schedule,” she said appreciatively. In almost every instance, Jon had been agreeable about the schedule alterations she’d required. “But my thought was that you might like to spend Christmas with Katie and me and my family.”

“And not have her Christmas Eve?”

“No—no, you could take her then if you wanted, but this is in addition to Christmas Eve.”

“You’re asking me to join you for Christmas?” His voice was surprised.

“I’d like it very much if you could come for the day.” She smiled shyly at him. She was shocked by the depth of her desire, shocked by how badly she wanted him with her and Katie.

For a moment, it seemed as if he was pleased by her invitation. Then, for no reason she could decipher, his grin faded and he turned away from her, physically as well as emotionally. “I appreciate the invite, but I can’t.”

“You…can’t?” Maryellen didn’t bother to hide her disappointment, although she attempted to swallow her hurt.

“I have other plans.”

“Oh.” Well, she had her answer, but it wasn’t one she liked. Jon
had
met someone else. She was sure of it now. “I should’ve invited you earlier, I guess,” she said, recovering quickly. “Perhaps we can get together next Christmas.”

“Perhaps,” he said, without committing himself.

Soon afterward, Jon made an excuse and left with Katie. Maryellen walked numbly along the waterfront. She felt rejected and dismayed and upset.

Not wanting to return to an empty house, she drove to her mother’s place on Rosewood Lane. This was the home where Maryellen had grown up. She loved this old house with the big dormer and the old-fashioned front porch. As a teenager, she’d spent many evenings sitting on those steps.

Her mother’s car was parked in the garage, with the door left open. Buttercup was outside and barked when she eased to a stop in the driveway. As soon as the golden retriever recognized her, she wagged her tail in greeting. Maryellen stroked the dog’s head and spoke a few words to her mother’s companion, then knocked at the kitchen door and let herself in.

Grace sat at the computer, intently studying the screen when Maryellen entered.

“Hi, Mom,” she said in a dejected voice.

Grace spun around, her eyes wide. “Where did you come from?”

“I just walked in. I knocked.”

“Give me a moment.” Her mother turned back to the computer and frantically typed something. Then she closed it down, stood and came into the kitchen, where Maryellen sat at the table.

“So, what brings you?” her mother asked.

She was behaving a bit strangely, Maryellen thought, frowning. It was almost as if she’d stumbled upon her mother doing something illegal. Whatever it was, Grace had
guilty
written all over her. If she hadn’t been so absorbed in her own troubles, Maryellen would have pursued the matter.

“Mom, I think Jon’s got a girlfriend,” she blurted out, and realized immediately how juvenile that sounded.

Her mother reached for the teakettle and filled it with tap water. “What makes you say that?”

“I just
know
. He’s avoiding me.” She tried to figure out how long this had been going on and couldn’t remember. “I invited him to spend Christmas with me and Katie and the rest of the family. He declined, said he had other plans.”

Grace sat down at the kitchen table and studied her. “I have a question for you.”

“All right.” What Maryellen wanted just then was advice and comfort, not questions.

“Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” she repeated, faltering over the words. “Why do I care?” she repeated. “Well…because I just do.”

“You were the one who insisted you didn’t want Jon in your life.”

“I don’t,” she blurted out, and knew it was a lie. “I didn’t,” she amended, “but I’ve had a change of heart.”

“That could be the problem,” her mother said. She got up as the water started to boil.

“What do you mean?” Maryellen asked.

“Maybe Jon’s had a change of heart himself.”

W
ith only a few days left before Christmas, Corrie Mc-Afee was eager to finish the last of her shopping. She’d assumed that when Roy took early retirement from the Seattle police force they’d travel. Touring Europe was something they’d talked about for years.

Retirement had sounded so liberating. No alarm clocks; a come-and-go-as-you-please kind of lifestyle. It
had
been that way at first, but Roy had gone stir-crazy within eighteen months. Shortly after their arrival in Cedar Cove, he’d hung out his shingle as a private investigator.

Linnette, their twenty-four-year-old daughter, had predicted as much. The older of their two children, she was most like her father. She shared Roy’s insight into people; they both possessed an innate ability to read character and see through pretense. Linnette also had a genuine desire to help people, especially children. In fact, she was receiving her physician’s assistant degree in June. She’d be arriving for the holidays on Wednesday afternoon, and joining Corrie and Roy for the Christmas Eve worship service at church.

Mack was coming to Cedar Cove, too, but their son
wouldn’t get there until Christmas morning. Mack was a mailman in the Seattle area. He’d never enjoyed school or succeeded at it the way his sister had. Corrie believed that, in time, he’d decide to further his education, but if he didn’t, that was fine, too. He was generous, hard-working and honest. Roy, however, had bigger aspirations for his only son, and it had caused a rift between him and Mack. A small one they both chose to ignore, but they weren’t close, and that troubled Corrie.

“Are you going out?” Roy asked as he left his office and found her wearing her coat.

“Peggy and I are meeting for lunch,” she told him. “Then we’re off to the mall.”

Her husband leaned against her desk in a relaxed pose. “You like Peggy, don’t you?”

Corrie nodded. They’d lived in Cedar Cove nearly four years now and hadn’t established a lot of friendships. In the beginning, Corrie had been busy setting up their home. Later she was involved with helping Roy establish the agency. There’d been overtures of friendship from their neighbors, but Corrie and Roy tended to keep to themselves. That was how it had been in Seattle, and they’d maintained the same approach here. They waved to the neighbors, collected their mail while they were on vacation, but that was about the extent of it.

Peggy Beldon, however, was someone who genuinely interested Corrie, for a number of reasons. Corrie had a small garden space at the back of their property. Her yard in Seattle had been shaded and too small for anything other than a few flowers. After seeing Peggy’s herb garden, she wanted to plant her own. But Corrie liked Peggy for more than her gardening expertise.

The day Bob came into the office and Corrie had chatted
with Peggy, the other woman had graciously offered Corrie a few seedlings. That was the beginning of their friendship. Twice now, they’d met for lunch to chat, exchange recipes and get to know each other. Both times Corrie had come away with the feeling that she’d made a friend.

“You don’t mind if I take the time off, do you?” she asked. Her question was a polite formality, since Roy had encouraged the friendship.

Her husband shook his head. “By all means, tackle the mall. You’re braver than I am by a long shot.”

“You don’t have any appointments this afternoon?”

He looked at her absently. Corrie knew him well enough to realize his mind had drifted in another direction altogether. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Roy continued to stare into space.

“Roy?”

He frowned, and it was clear he hadn’t even heard her the first time. Roy was like this. His thoughts would venture off onto some case and it’d be practically impossible to get his attention.

“Is it the mystery man again?” she asked. She knew that some part of his brain refused to let this lie. He needed answers, resolution. It was one of the reasons he’d advanced quickly through the ranks of the Seattle Police Department to become a detective, a position he’d held for most of his career.

“You want my opinion?” she said.

Roy grinned. “I have a feeling you’re going to give it to me, anyway, so why not?”

“I suspect this John Doe was lost and looking for a place to stay. You and I both know there are only a couple of motels in town.”

“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.