311 Pelican Court (5 page)

“You met Olivia, I believe.”

He nodded. “The judge.”

So he did remember. “I have a son, too. Will. He lives near Atlanta, Georgia. He’s a nuclear engineer,” she boasted.

“Steven, my oldest boy, lives in Georgia, too. Ever hear of St. Simons Island?”

“Clyde and I visited there one summer. Let me think—it must’ve been back in the sixties, but I still remember how lovely it was. All those giant live oaks dripping with Spanish moss.”

Ben smiled. “Joan used to love visiting the island.” At the mention of his wife’s name, his eyes grew sad. Because Charlotte understood how devastating it was to lose one’s life mate, she gently patted his hand.

“It does hurt less after a while,” she whispered. “Life is never the same, but gradually we adjust. Every year’s a little easier.” Perhaps it would help if he talked, she thought. “Tell me about her.”

Ben looked surprised. “You want me to talk about Joan?”

“Only if you’d like to.”

He did; that was soon apparent. “Joan went with me all over the world,” he said. “I was stationed in Europe and Asia and in a number of states. Never once did she complain. I promised her that when I retired we’d settle down in one place.”

“And you did?”

“California. We built a home there, had about ten years, but then Joan got sick. Cancer.”

“What brought you to Cedar Cove?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. Dusk was descending, the lights’ reflection playing on the still waters. “I
couldn’t stay in that house anymore. I moved to a condo in San Diego, but it didn’t feel right. I’d been up to Washington, the Seattle area, several times. Some friends had invited me to visit after the funeral, and then I came back almost every year. I took the ferry across to Bremerton a couple of years ago. On a whim, I went to Cedar Cove and walked around a bit. I liked it. The people were friendly and I was looking for somewhere new to live.”

“What about your sons?”

“David wanted me to move closer to him—he lives in Arizona—but that didn’t appeal to me. He was planning to take care of me, but I don’t ever want to be a burden to my family.”

“I know what you mean.” Charlotte had the same concerns. She sincerely doubted that Ben would ever be a burden to anyone. He was a proud, capable man, independent by nature.

“How long have you been here?”

“Over a year now.”

That didn’t seem possible.

Ben glanced at his watch and seemed surprised by the time. “My goodness, it’s almost nine-thirty.”

“It can’t be!” Charlotte was sure he’d made a mistake. They’d come here shortly after eight, since the council meeting, which started at seven, had lasted only an hour.

“You’re an easy woman to talk to, Charlotte.”

She felt her heart flutter at his praise. “Thank you.” What she didn’t say was that Ben Rhodes was an easy man to listen to—an easy man to like.

R
osie Cox hadn’t taught grade school in years. Sixteen years, to be exact. When Allison was born, Zach and Rosie had made the decision that she’d be a stay-at-home mother. For years she proudly wore her Every Mother Is A Working Mother pin. Her views about women’s role within the family had leaned toward the militant. A mother’s love and care, especially in the early stages of child development, was vital. At one time, Rosie had prided herself on being the world’s best mother, best wife and best housekeeper. Okay, the housekeeping part was a stretch, but as far as parenthood went, she read all the books, talked to the experts and attended the latest classes. She’d been determined to do everything right by her family.

When Allison and Eddie were both in school, Rosie had briefly toyed with the idea of rejoining the workforce as a teacher. She had the credentials, the hours were ideal and she could have summers off with the kids. There hadn’t been any positions available, but she’d dipped her toe in the employment pool one autumn a few years back, when she’d worked as a cashier in a drugstore. That, however, hadn’t lasted long.

When Eddie entered first grade, Rosie was already involved in a handful of volunteer jobs, which she thoroughly enjoyed. She wanted to contribute to the community and initially Zach had encouraged this. If she wanted to volunteer her services, then it was fine by him, since they’d learned to survive quite adequately on one income. Later, her husband had come to resent the hours she gave to these organizations and complained that she was gone far too many nights. In the end, it was apparent that Zach didn’t want her working, but didn’t approve of her volunteering, either. What he wanted, she realized bitterly, was an old-fashioned wife, subject to his needs and desires. A glorified housekeeper, and never mind the bedroom part because he was obviously getting
that
somewhere else.

Volunteering had fulfilled her, but that was then and this was now. With the divorce final and the joint custody agreement in place—even if it was the most unusual one on record—Rosie had to find a way of supporting herself.

Her options were limited. After a few refresher classes, which she took over the summer, she was hired by the school district as a substitute teacher. She’d been counting on that. She was in line for a full-time position once an opening became available. Being a substitute, fewer hours equaled less pay, and that worried her until she was assured she could have as many hours as she wanted.

Sure enough, yesterday, the first day of school, she’d been called in to teach a second-grade class at Evergreen Elementary. This was Wednesday, day two of her new working life.

By late afternoon, Rosie’s feet were throbbing and she could feel the beginnings of a migraine. Teaching wasn’t easy, but it was manageable, she told herself. Mrs. Gough, the regular teacher, had had her appendix out over the Labor
Day weekend and would be out of the classroom for two to three weeks, depending on her rate of recovery. As a result, Rosie would have a steady income for much of September.

It was almost five by the time she was ready to leave the school. Most, if not all, of the other teachers had gone for the day. The janitor was pushing a broom down the deserted hallway when she walked out of her classroom.

“Good night,” she said as she strolled past him, struggling to smile.

He acknowledged her with a nod and methodically continued his task.

Climbing into her SUV, she mentally patted herself on the back. She’d been awarded the vehicle, a Ford Explorer, as part of the divorce settlement. Zach had to either give her the Explorer or buy her an equivalent replacement, since her own car was old and becoming unreliable. He chose to give up the car, but then she’d known he would.

Both of them had sunk pretty low during the negotiations that led to their divorce settlement. Rosie had been unaware of how petty she could be, how…mean. She’d actually hated Zach for what he was doing to her and to their family, and she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. He appeared to feel the same way.

Rosie turned onto Pelican Court and pulled into their driveway, heaving a giant sigh. It was good to be home. She was eager to talk to her children and learn how their days had gone. Allison attended Cedar Cove High School and Eddie was in fifth grade at Lincoln Elementary. Exhausted though she was, Rosie longed to hear about their classes. She might even order pizza, which would be a treat in these days of tight budgets. The three of them deserved something special.

The garage door was closed and Rosie frowned when it
opened and she saw Zach’s new vehicle parked in her spot. What was that about? Getting out of the car, she slammed the door. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with
him
, especially after the day she’d just had.

She hesitated at the door, wondering if she should knock, then decided this was her house as much as his. Without bothering to announce her arrival, she barreled into the kitchen from the door off the garage.

Sure enough, Zach was in her kitchen wearing a ridiculous-looking apron. Both kids were with him, which irritated her further. Eddie sat at the table doing his homework, and Allison was standing at the sink peeling potatoes. This was a sight she could hardly believe, especially since the kids seemed to be performing these tasks willingly.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

“What do you mean?” Zach asked, glancing up. His smile faded and his eyes narrowed. His hands were buried wrist-deep in a blue ceramic bowl full of what looked like hamburger and cracker crumbs. Ah, now she understood. This was his pitiful attempt at meat loaf. A year ago they’d had a big fight over her not serving him a three-course meal every night when he came home from the office. He seemed to think she had nothing to do all day but hang around the house and watch soap operas and trashy talk shows.

“Meat loaf?” she asked, making no effort to disguise her sneer.

“It’s my night with the kids,” Zach said. His hands froze as he glared malevolently at her.

The hell it was. “I don’t think so.” Rosie wasn’t backing down. It was bad enough having Zach in
her
house. She hated every minute of this switching back and forth. She’d memorized the schedule: she was with the children every
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and then Zach was at the house Thursday, Friday and Saturdays, plus holidays. She’d felt triumphant about getting that extra day, but she’d had to give up the major holidays for it. The trade-off didn’t seem fair, but it was the best deal Sharon Castor had been able to get her.

“Monday was a holiday,” Zach reminded her.

Crossing her arms, Rosie gave him a slow, sardonic smile. “So?”

“Monday was Labor Day.”

“Dad has the holidays, Mom. Remember? So he’s supposed to get an extra day this week.”

Leave it to Allison to side with her father. Rosie frowned at her daughter. She’d asked her a thousand times to peel potatoes for dinner. In response Allison always gave her the beleaguered look of an overworked galley slave. But let her father ask…

“We decided last month that instead of me coming here on the less important holidays, we’d simply tack a day onto my usual week.”

“We did?” She vaguely remembered some discussion having to do with Labor Day, but it had slipped her mind with all the craziness that surrounded her first day of school. The situation would be the same for Columbus Day the following month, she realized.

“Do you want my attorney to mail you the paperwork—complete with your signature?” Zach asked.

“There’s no need to get sarcastic with me,” she replied.

Eddie slammed his book closed and covered both ears. “Stop it!” he screamed. “Just stop it.”

“Now look what you’ve done,” Rosie flared, placing her arm protectively around her son’s shoulders. Eddie had always been a sensitive child.

Zach’s gaze bored holes into her. “This is
my
time with
my
children,” he said, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

Rosie opened her mouth, intent on arguing, but he was right. She was the one who’d made the mistake.

“Fine,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster, which at this point was very little. She sent her son and daughter a reassuring smile, then walked out of the house.

Tears burned just below the surface as she climbed back inside the Explorer. This wouldn’t happen again; she’d make sure of it. From here on out, she’d have the days clearly marked on the calendar so there wouldn’t be a repeat of this dreadful scene.

The apartment she shared with Zach was less than a mile away from the house. She pulled into the assigned parking slot and turned off the engine. The neighborhood wasn’t as good, but the rent was reasonable.

Everything inside the apartment was neatly divided. She had her own shelf in the refrigerator and Zach had his. She kept her personal items locked inside one bedroom, and his were locked in the other—not that she cared what he did or didn’t have.

The apartment was hot and, unlike the house, lacked air-conditioning. Rosie turned on the television for noise and then took two aspirin and plunked down in front of the television set. The news was on, but she had no interest in world events. It was all she could do to deal with what was happening in her own life.

She must have fallen asleep because the phone woke her. Startled, she leapt off the couch and raced into the kitchen.

“Hello,” she said breathlessly, not sounding anything like her normal self.

The person on the other end of the line hesitated. “I think I have the wrong number,” the woman said softly.

Rosie would recognize that voice anywhere. It was Janice Lamond, the home wrecker who’d stolen her husband. The woman who’d carefully planned to ruin Rosie’s life. She seethed with anger and resentment.

“Yes, I think you’ve made a mistake,” she said, letting the intense dislike she felt for the other woman show in her voice. Because nothing further needed to be said, she took delight in banging down the receiver. Her hand shook, and leaning against the kitchen counter, Rosie fought back angry tears.

Zach was dating. He had been even before the divorce was final. Even before he’d moved out.
She
was the one who’d honored her wedding vows, the one who’d cared for the house and the family while her so-called husband had an affair. It hurt even now to realize that the man she’d trusted implicitly and loved beyond measure had become involved with another woman.

Rosie poured herself a cold orange juice and walked back into the tiny living room. Slouching down on the sofa, she stared up at the ceiling.

Two could play that game, she decided. Rosie didn’t know why it had taken her so long to figure that out.

It was high time she found herself a boyfriend.

With the latest issue of
The Cedar Cove Chronicle
at the printer’s, Jack Griffin had a rare free afternoon, and a beautiful September afternoon it was. Normally he’d spend the time with Olivia, but now he was at loose ends and in a hell of a mood.

He’d been playing it cool, doing his best to hide his true feelings about Olivia. He wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all his best friend, Bob Beldon. Bob was more than a friend, he was Jack’s AA sponsor, and between them they had almost thirty years’ sobriety.

He parked his battered, fifteen-year-old Ford Taurus outside the Beldons’ B and B, Thyme and Tide. Jack paused long enough to take in the view from across the cove. It really was lovely. Breathtaking. In the distance, the huge green-and-white Seattle ferry was easing into the Bremerton dock. Seagulls hovered over the water. Closer at hand, statuesque herons walked delicately along the shore, picking at the exposed seabed with thin beaks while the tide lapped at their feet. A line of foam scalloped the rocky beach.

Peggy was busy clipping herbs in her garden, wearing a large straw hat to shade her face from the late-afternoon sun. She straightened when she saw him, a basket over her arm.

“Jack,” she greeted him warmly. “We haven’t seen nearly enough of you in the last little while.” Hurrying across the lawn, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Isn’t it a beautiful afternoon?”

“Sure is, Peggy.” He paused. “Is Bob around?”

“Sorry, no. He’s off with Pastor Flemming. I don’t know how he did it, but Dave Flemming’s got Bob working with the teenagers’ basketball team.”

Frankly, Jack didn’t know how the minister had managed it, either. “I didn’t realize you and Bob were churchgoing people,” he said, puzzlement in his voice.

“We didn’t used to be,” Peggy admitted. “Not until…” An unknown man had died in their home the previous winter, and—understandably—that had shaken them up. The circumstances were shrouded in mystery. The John Doe had arrived in the middle of a storm; he’d carried false identification and had yet to be identified. So many questions remained unanswered, and some people seemed to think Bob and Peggy might be involved. If the stranger had died at
his
house, Jack suspected he might start attending church, too.

Peggy, willowy and energetic as always, headed toward
the kitchen as though she expected Jack to follow. He did so willingly. Peggy was the kind of woman who made everyone feel welcome. It was her gift and made her a natural in the bed-and-breakfast business.

She held the screen door open for Jack and set her basket on the counter. “I just made a fresh pitcher of iced tea,” she announced, and then, without asking, automatically poured two tall glasses. She arranged several large peanut butter cookies on a plate, as well.

With Jack carrying the tray, they walked to the patio. He set it down on the table and began to make an excuse to leave as soon as politeness allowed. He changed his mind; after all, he’d come here hoping for a distraction from his thoughts about Olivia.

“When do you expect Bob?” he asked.

“Around five, I guess,” Peggy told him.

A quick glance at his watch assured Jack that was only thirty minutes off.

“After Dan Sherman’s death…” Peggy began. She hesitated. “Bob took that hard.”