311 Pelican Court (24 page)

“I didn’t the first day,” Allison confessed, grabbing her water glass and gulping down several swallows. “Dad was awful to be around. He was totally unreasonable.”

That wasn’t the way Rosie had heard it, but she wasn’t going to contradict Allison.

“Then he made Cecilia my boss, and it worked out much better.”

Rosie smiled, wondering what it was about Cecilia, whom she’d never met, that had influenced Allison so profoundly.

“Dad told you about Cecilia and her husband, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Zach had also mentioned the baby Cecilia had lost. “Cecilia’s baby was named Allison, too?”

Her daughter nodded. “Would it be all right if we put flowers on her grave one day?”

“I think that would be very nice.”

“Her birthday was June 25.”

“Perhaps we should do it then,” Rosie suggested.

Allison nodded again. “Okay! I’ll pay for them myself.” She poured a generous amount of syrup on what remained of her pancakes. “We talk, you know?” She looked up, as if she expected Rosie to object.

“I know.”

“Cecilia’s really smart, but she said she didn’t always realize that. Ian was the one who convinced her she could go to college and be anything she wanted.”

“Didn’t I hear you say that Ian’s away just now?”

“The term is ‘at sea,’ Mom.”

Rosie hid a smile. “Sorry.”

“Do we know anyone else who’s married to someone in the Navy?”

Rosie had to think about that. “Mrs. Alman’s husband is in the Navy. I teach with her.”

“Oh,” Allison murmured absently.

The question Rosie had wanted to ask her daughter, and dared not, clamored within her. Zach hadn’t referred to Janice Lamond in weeks, and for that matter, neither had Allison. It wasn’t right to grill her children about their father’s activities; Rosie had promised herself she’d never put them in a situation that would divide their loyalties. She’d never force them to defend their father—or worse, choose between their parents. The silence about the other woman confused her, but then she hadn’t mentioned Bruce Peyton, either. Not that there was much to say…

“So how’s everything at the office?” Rosie asked as nonchalantly as she could. She hoped Allison would bring up Janice’s name without any prompting.

“Dad’s really, really busy. Tax season is hard. He goes to work at six and he usually has to stay late. He has appointments all day. I hardly see him anymore.”

Zach had always been an early riser. During tax season, he often left the house before dawn, usually while Rosie was still asleep. From experience, she knew how tired and cranky he could be at the end of the day, too.

“I hope he’s hired the extra help he needs,” Rosie muttered.

Allison laid her fork next to her plate. “Mom, are you trying to find out about Mrs. Lamond?”

Instant color heated Rosie’s cheeks. She could deny it and almost did, but Allison was smart enough to recognize a lie. Rosie nodded. “I apologize, sweetheart, I shouldn’t be—”

“She quit,” Allison said as she leaned toward Rosie in a conspiratorial kind of way. A smile flashed in her daughter’s eyes.

“Quit?” Rosie repeated. “When?”

“Weeks ago. Before Christmas.”

Before Christmas? That was impossible. Rosie vaguely remembered Zach’s saying he’d given the other woman a promotion. “What’s the matter, didn’t she get a big enough pay raise?” Rosie asked. She didn’t try to disguise her dislike for the other woman.

“I don’t know anything about a pay raise, but the gossip is she left without notice and Dad was really upset about it.”

Rosie would just bet he was.

“The other staff members didn’t like her, either.”

“Really?” This was interesting, and contrary to what Zach had told her. He’d made Janice sound like a paragon of efficiency and helpfulness, implying that no one could resist liking such a friendly, supportive person.

“At first Mrs. Lamond was really nice. That’s what Mrs. Long said—you know, the office manager. But then later Mrs. Lamond got all uppity with the other staff. They said she manipulated Dad to do whatever she wanted.”

As if Rosie didn’t already know
that
. “I’m sure she did,” she said. “Do you know why she quit like that?”

“No one seems to have any idea.”

Rosie would have derived real satisfaction from discovering the details.

“Do you want me to find out more?” Allison asked, obviously eager to dig up dirt.

The temptation was strong, but Rosie shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She and Allison chatted easily through dinner, laughing frequently and even reminiscing about pre-divorce days. It buoyed Rosie’s spirits to have this relaxed conversation with her daughter—and to learn that the Lamond woman was gone from the office.

The following afternoon, Rosie dropped by the accounting firm. She hadn’t been to the office since shortly before the separation, mainly because she hadn’t wanted to give Janice Lamond the opportunity to gloat.

Mary Lou Miller was at the reception desk. She looked up when Rosie stepped into the office, and her face showed surprise, followed almost immediately by genuine welcome. There’d been a time when Rosie’s relationship with the office staff had been pleasant and mutually respectful.

“Mrs. Cox, it’s so good to see you!” Mary Lou said.

“Hi, Mary Lou.” The sense of welcome was gratifying and helped ease her nervousness. Rosie hadn’t mentioned to Zach that she planned to stop by. Classes were cut short for the day because of a teachers’ seminar on new curriculum requirements in the areas of math and science. Rosie was exempted, since she’d taken the course while updating her skills. She had a rare afternoon free.

“How can I help you?” Mary Lou walked over to the counter, which acted as a partition between the waiting area and the inner office. “Do you want me to call Mr. Cox? Unfortunately, he’s with a client at the moment, but I can let him know you’re here.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” Rosie told her. “I came to meet Cecilia Randall.”

“Oh, sure,” Mary Lou said. “I’ll get her right away.”

“Cecilia’s on her break,” a woman Rosie didn’t recognize announced from her desk. There’d been a number of changes in the office that she knew nothing about. She and Zach had often discussed office politics, but that had been BJ—before Janice.

“You can go on back to the break room, if you like,” Mary Lou suggested.

That was perfect as far as Rosie was concerned. She
didn’t want to interrupt Cecilia while she was on the job. Her purpose was to thank her for everything she’d done for Allison.

Rosie was as familiar with the layout of the office as she was her own home—or what had, at one time, been the home she’d lived in with Zach. These days…well, that was territory she didn’t want to enter.

Just as Mary Lou had told her, Rosie found a young woman sitting at a table, reading a magazine and sipping coffee. An older woman sat at a separate table, chatting on a cell phone. Cecilia had straight dark hair that hung just above her shoulders and she didn’t look more than seventeen. She glanced up when Rosie walked in.

“Hello.” Rosie smiled. “I’m Allison’s mom.”

“Oh, hi,” Cecilia said, smiling back. “She talks about you a lot.”

Rosie pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. She was astounded that her daughter had mentioned her at all. “I just came to introduce myself and to thank you for being Allison’s friend.”

“I enjoy working with her.”

Rosie was sure she hadn’t felt that way in the beginning. “I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your patience with her. She’s going through a rough time, and you’ve made a tremendous impression on her.”

“I appreciate your telling me that.”

“It’s true,” Rosie said. “Just working with you has made a real difference to Allison.”

“Spending time with her has helped me, too,” Cecilia said. “I was only ten when my parents divorced and I remember thinking the breakup was my fault….”

Rosie was immediately concerned. She’d repeatedly talked to both children about this very thing, but Allison and
Eddie had dismissed her questions, and after a while she’d let the matter drop. Surely, Rosie prayed, her children hadn’t taken on any blame for a problem that was clearly between her and Zach.

“Did Allison tell you she blames herself for what happened?” Rosie burst out. “Because that simply isn’t true.”

“No, no,” Cecilia assured her, and held up one hand. “I just meant that talking about what happened when my parents split has helped me realize I had nothing to do with their divorce. So you see, it’s been a real advantage to me to look back at that episode in my own life.”

“I see,” Rosie murmured, relieved. In retrospect, she wished she’d handled so many things differently, not only with the divorce, but her marriage, too. She tried not to think about the last twelve months. What was done was done. Indulging in regrets left her feeling depressed, and she was working hard to get past those negative emotions.

“I hope you don’t mind my coming by like this, but I did want to thank you,” Rosie said.

“It’s really sweet of you to do that.” Cecilia closed her magazine. “Did you enjoy your dinner with Allison?”

Rosie nodded. “It was great, although I almost needed a translator. Words like
wicked
and
righteous
and
mad
don’t seem to mean what I thought they did.”

Cecilia smiled. “I know. Teenagers have their own way of expressing things, don’t they?”

“That they do.” It was important Rosie leave before her daughter arrived for work. She got up, ready to head back to the front office, when Mary Lou approached her.

“Mr. Cox said he’d like to see you,” she said, sounding apologetic as she stepped aside and allowed Rosie to pass.

Zach’s door was open. When Rosie walked into his office, she immediately noticed that the family photograph was
no longer on the credenza, but he’d displayed one of Allison and Eddie. He stood when she entered, frowning darkly. Without a word, he moved from behind his desk and shut the door, a little harder than he needed to.

Ah, so that was how it was going to be. Rosie tried not to let him intimidate her, but that was difficult.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

She didn’t understand his anger and suppressed the urge to respond in kind. “I came to talk to Cecilia. I wanted to thank her—”

“That’s a convenient excuse and we both know it.” He was back on the other side of his desk, his expression furious.

“Excuse for
what?
” she asked, equally angry.

“Finding out about Janice.”

Now she understood. Zach didn’t want her to know that his “girlfriend” had left the company. From the little Allison had said, she knew Janice’s departure hadn’t been amicable.

“My visit had nothing to do with Janice and everything to do with our daughter,” Rosie insisted.

“So you say.”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I’m sorry if my being here is an embarrassment. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Eager to escape, she turned to leave.

Zach crossed his arms over his chest and slowly exhaled. “Did you learn what you wanted to know?” he asked.

Rosie turned back from the door. “What I wanted to know?” she repeated. Then she realized her ex-husband was worried that she’d find out what great pains he’d taken to hide the truth from her all these weeks. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

Zach’s jaw went white. “What happened between Janice and me—”

“I learned that Cecilia Randall is a warm, generous
woman who has been a wonderful friend to our daughter,” she said, interrupting him. “And I also learned that my ex-husband can be a real jerk.” She offered him a quavering smile, which under the circumstances was the best she could do. “No surprise there, however.”

She walked out the door.

B
ob Beldon was puttering around in his wood shop in the garage, cleaning tools and putting them away, when he noticed the sheriff’s vehicle in the distance. The green car was making its way along Cranberry Point; Bob wondered if Sheriff Davis was headed in his direction and what it meant if he was.

It’d been a year since the John Doe had checked into Thyme and Tide and promptly gone to meet his Maker. So much of that night remained a blur in Bob’s mind. Of one thing he was sure: the man, whoever he was, had evoked the recurring nightmare. As the years passed, the dream had come less and less frequently. But it had returned that night. When he woke, he’d had the same sensation he always felt following the nightmare. He’d been badly shaken; discovering their guest dead in the downstairs bedroom had heightened his anxiety beyond anything he’d experienced in years.

Considering the number of times Sheriff Davis had stopped by since that fateful morning, Bob couldn’t help feeling he was somehow a suspect. It was Davis’s last visit that had led him to contact Roy McAfee. He’d half expected an
arrest warrant. He needed to talk to someone he trusted, someone who could help him, so—at Pastor Flemming’s suggestion—he’d gone to Roy.

Retelling the story of that day in a Vietnam jungle hadn’t been easy. Peggy was the only one he’d ever told. Bob didn’t know what would’ve happened to him if not for his wife, who’d held him and wept with him as he relived those terrible memories. Since then—until now—they’d never spoken of the incident again.

He peered out at the road again. Sure enough, the sheriff’s car drove through the wrought-iron gate that marked the driveway to Thyme and Tide. He recognized Troy Davis at the wheel. Bob reached in his rear pocket for a clean rag and wiped his hands free of sawdust and grime.

Davis parked in back and climbed out, nodding in Bob’s direction.

“Sheriff,” Bob said, coming out to meet him. He extended his hand, which Troy Davis shook, all the while looking him full in the face. That was encouraging. If Davis planned to arrest him, he figured there’d be some sign. Thus far, he hadn’t seen any.

“How’s it going, Bob?” Troy asked.

“All right.”

“Peggy around?”

“She’s inside baking. She’s probably almost done. Cookies, I think. Do you want to come in the house?”

Sheriff Davis nodded. “I’d like to talk to you both.”

Bob led the way through the back door off the kitchen. As he’d predicted, Peggy’s cookies were cooling on wire racks and the lingering scent of oatmeal and raisins filled the room. She must’ve seen Troy pull into the driveway because she’d already placed three mugs on the table and had the coffee poured. She’d set aside a plate of cookies, too.

Silently they each took a seat at the round oak table in the alcove next to the kitchen, then reached for a mug.

“You have news?” Peggy asked.

Bob admired the fact that she got straight to the point. He assumed the sheriff had learned something. The fact that he was here in uniform told Bob this wasn’t a social call.

“We have the identity of our John Doe,” Sheriff Davis said. He paused as if he expected Bob to provide the name.

Peggy gasped. “You know who it is?”

“Maxwell Russell.” Once again, the sheriff looked at Bob.

“Max?” Bob repeated slowly. Roy had wondered about that possibility. A chill raced down his spine, and he closed his eyes as the face of his old army buddy came to him. The room felt as if it were buckling beneath his chair. In the back of his mind, for whatever reason, he’d known that the man who’d died was somehow connected to his past.

“You remember him?” Davis asked, but it was clear he already knew the answer.

“We were in the army together—that was years ago.”

Davis nodded as if waiting for more.

“Why didn’t he identify himself?” Bob asked. They hadn’t seen each other in nearly forty years. Max hadn’t arrived on his doorstep that night by accident. He’d come for a reason—and died before he could tell Bob what it was.

“I was hoping
you
could give me the answer to that,” the sheriff murmured.

Bob couldn’t. He’d never been particularly good friends with Max. They were in Vietnam together, in the jungle…in the village. Afterward all four men had gone their separate ways, desperate to put the past behind them, to forget. No one wanted a reminder of what they’d done. Least of all Bob.

After the war, Bob had stayed away from Cedar Cove simply because Dan had chosen to return to their hometown.
Bob did eventually move back, but the two men rarely spoke. It was as if they were strangers now, although in their youth they’d been close friends.

“He died before he could tell you anything?” The sheriff made it a question.

Bob pushed away his chair and stood. With his back to the sheriff and Peggy, he stared out the window. “No matter how many times you ask the question, I can only answer it one way. Max came to the door without giving us so much as his name, paid for a room and said he’d fill out the paperwork in the morning.”

“But by morning he was dead.”

The sick feeling in Bob’s stomach intensified. He didn’t understand why Max had come to Cedar Cove in the first place. Even more of a mystery was the fact that he’d had extensive plastic surgery—and that he’d carried false identification.

“How’d you find out who he was?” Bob had a few questions of his own.

“His daughter filed a missing person’s report with the police in Redding, California. I spoke to Hannah Russell earlier in the week.”

“California?” Bob repeated. The trail had first led to an investigation in Florida, but that had quickly gone cold.

“What did she tell you?” Peggy asked before Bob could.

“Unfortunately not as much as I’d like. The last time she spoke to her father, he told her he was leaving town. He didn’t give her any details. They were apparently quite close, but when she questioned him about where he was going and why, he was evasive.

“He never returned. After two weeks, she reported him as a missing person.”

“That’s all she knows?” Bob turned to face the sheriff. He gripped the back of his chair and slowly released his
breath. Reclaiming his seat, he mulled over the information, feeling more confused than ever.

“It seems so,” Davis told him, picking up his coffee.

“Was it a business trip?” Bob asked next.

Davis shook his head. “He hasn’t worked since the accident.”

“Accident?” Peggy echoed.

“He was in a car crash five years ago. It killed his wife and badly disfigured him. The accident was the reason for his reconstructive surgery.”

Well, that explained that….

“I didn’t recognize him at all,” Bob murmured. He’d seemed vaguely familiar—his bearing, perhaps, but Bob would never have associated that stranger with the twenty-year-old he’d once known.

“In the last few years, Hannah’s lost both her parents. She took the news hard.”

“That poor girl,” Peggy said sympathetically. “She must’ve been beside herself when she didn’t hear from her father all those months.”

“It’s no wonder.” Bob didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until he heard the sound of his own voice. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, splaying his fingers through his hair.

No wonder the nightmare had come that night. His subconscious had made some connection, and he’d been swept into the churning memories the nightmare induced.

“Do you know why Max would seek you out?” Sheriff Davis asked again.

“No.” Bob could only speculate.

“His daughter’s coming to get the ashes.” The sheriff looked from Bob to Peggy. When there was no one to claim the body or pay burial expenses, the county cremated
the remains. “Hannah asked if she could speak to you both.”

“What did you tell her?” Bob asked.

“I told her it was up to you, but I imagined you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

Peggy nodded. “When is she coming?”

“As soon as she can make the arrangements. She’s hoping to arrive next week.”

Peggy glanced at Bob. He knew what she was asking and he knew his answer, too.

“Tell Hannah she’s welcome to stop by anytime.”

The sheriff nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Olivia saw the huge bouquet of vibrant red roses being delivered to the courthouse when she broke for lunch. They were lovely, and in February, especially this close to Valentine’s Day, they must have cost a fortune.

She followed the florist’s deliveryman down the halls of the courthouse and wondered who was lucky enough to receive such gorgeous roses. When the man announced he was looking for Judge Lockhart’s office, she stopped abruptly.

Someone had sent her roses?

“I’m Judge Lockhart,” she said quickly, and led the way into her office. The roses were stunning, the buds just opening, their color rich and deep.

As soon as the man left, Olivia grabbed the card, certain Jack had sent them. She tore at the envelope, then hesitated when a second thought gave her pause.

They could be from Stan.

She stared hard at the half-opened envelope and sank into her chair. She reached for the telephone, although she didn’t often call Grace at work.

It took a moment to get her best friend on the line.

“What happened?” Grace asked automatically. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing yet.” Olivia was giddy with anticipation—and a hint of dread. “I have the most incredible roses here and a sealed card.”

“You don’t know who sent them?”

“No.”

“Open the card,” Grace urged.

“I think they’re from Stan.”

“And you want it to be Jack?”

Olivia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Of course I want it to be Jack.” But he’d already sent her flowers once, and it had been completely out of character then. Twice would be too much to expect.

“When was the last time you heard from him?”

Grace always did get caught up in the details. “We talk all the time.”

“Did he mention getting together for Valentine’s?”

Olivia strained her memory. If he had, it was only a vague reference. “Not that I recall. He’s busy, I’m busy. It’s harder now that the paper’s going to five days a week.”

“When was the last time Stan called you?”

Olivia didn’t answer. “They must be from Stan,” she said, already disappointed. The irony was, she couldn’t remember once in all the years they were married that Stan had sent her roses.

“Look at the card, would you?” Grace insisted.

“Oh, all right.” She ripped the envelope all the way open, holding her breath.

“Well?” Grace said after a few tense seconds.

“Stan.”

“That’s what you thought.”

“I know.”

“What does the card say?”

Olivia glanced down at it again, and with little enthusiasm read the few scribbled lines aloud. “’Be my Valentine now and forever. Join me for a night to remember.’ And then it’s signed Stan.”

Grace muttered something unintelligible; whatever her friend’s sentiment, Olivia shared it. If Stan had loved her so much, he wouldn’t have walked out on their family when he had. He wouldn’t have married Marge the moment their divorce was final. He wouldn’t have abandoned Olivia in the hour of her darkest pain. Love demanded more.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Grace commented. “What are you thinking?”

Olivia grinned. “That Jack tries, but he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”

“So what else is new?”

These days, Stan could be counted on to bring her flowers and candy, to make all the conventional gestures, but there was no substance to him. He had a handsome face and an empty heart. He seemed more worried about losing Olivia to Jack—as if she was the object of some male competition—than about her happiness.

“What will you tell Stan?” Grace asked.

“I’m afraid he’s going to be disappointed because I’ve already got a date.”

“You do? But you said Jack hadn’t mentioned anything about Valentine’s….”

Olivia’s decision had been made. “If he doesn’t ask me, then I’ll just ask him.”

Grace laughed, and it was the same wonderful sound Olivia remembered from when they were teenagers. It seemed only a few years ago that they
were
teenagers, talking endlessly about boys and dates and Valentine’s Day.
Neither of them had expected to be single at this stage of their lives.

“Just when do you plan to give him this Sadie Hawkins Valentine invitation?” Grace teased.

Olivia laughed, too. “As soon as I’m finished here.” She was about to suggest that Grace invite Cliff, as well, but that relationship had become very complicated all of a sudden. She wasn’t sure what had happened, and Grace was reluctant to discuss it. Olivia gathered they’d had some sort of falling out. If it wasn’t cleared up after a while, she’d press the issue, but at the moment, Grace seemed content. After all the grief and uncertainty her friend had been through, that was good enough for now.

They spoke for a few more minutes, Olivia promising to call Grace with an update that evening. As soon as court was over for the day, she drove directly to the newspaper.
The
Cedar Cove Chronicle
office was situated on Cedar Cove Drive, toward Southworth, where Washington state ferries transported cars and passengers to Vashon Island and West Seattle.

Once she’d parked, Olivia lost her nerve. She was part of a generation raised to believe that men did the inviting. Etiquette dictated certain procedures, and even though many of those rules were outdated in today’s world, they were so ingrained, Olivia had a hard time ignoring them.

Well, she’d come here for a reason, and she was determined to see it through. She marched purposefully into the office, only to discover he was in a meeting.

“I’ll get him if you like,” the receptionist told her.

“Ah…” Thankfully Olivia didn’t have time to formulate a response.

The door to the back office opened and Jack walked out, wearing a preoccupied frown. But the instant he saw her, his eyes brightened and his step quickened. “Olivia!”

Jack’s delight at seeing her seemed to infuse him with energy, and Olivia felt gratified. He held out his hands to her. “This is a surprise.”