Read the book: «1022 Evergreen Place»

Dear Friends,

Well, here it is—the tenth book in the Cedar Cove series. Can you believe it? We’ve reached our ten-year anniversary!

You might not have known that reader feedback is what prompted these stories. I’d written several shorter series in previous years. The idea of doing connected books started with the Orchard Valley series. Then came the six Alaska books in the Midnight Sons series, followed by the six Heart of Texas stories. After the publication of those books, my reader mail was filled with requests to write more, to “please tell us about———” (fill in the blank).

I realised that my readers didn’t want the series to end. You wanted to know what happened to various characters, how certain situations were resolved, how people and places changed. Frankly, it’s always been difficult for me to write the last book in a project, and your comments made sense. The characters become as real to you as they are to me; I felt, as you did, that their lives extend beyond the last page of the book. So, I thought … why not write more pages?

That’s when I approached my publisher with the idea of writing a long-term series about a fictional town. Naturally enough, the place I’m most familiar with is Port Orchard, my hometown, so I decided to set the series in my own back yard (so to speak). As you probably know, Cedar Cove is loosely based on Port Orchard.

The first ten Cedar Cove books have broken professional ground for me. They gave me my first No.1 New York Times placement—all thanks to you, I might add. Then, because so many of you wanted to see Cedar Cove for yourselves, my hometown opened its doors for Cedar Cove days.

As I write this letter, I’m working on the eleventh book and I won’t be stopping until all the stories are told. Only heaven knows when that will be!

Thank you for your interest and support. Now relax, grab a cup of something warm and enjoy visiting with all your friends in Cedar Cove.

PS I love hearing from readers. You can reach me at www.debbiemacomber.com or at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.

1022 Evergreen
Place
Debbie
Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To Marcia Hestead, a woman of grace and charm who has

blessed me with her friendship and many talents.

One

Almost home. Grateful for the end of his shift, Mack McAfee turned the corner onto Evergreen Place and approached his house, the duplex at 1022. He felt an instant sense of peace when he saw Mary Jo Wyse working in the garden, taking advantage of the longer days and the perfection of a Pacific Northwest spring. At six, the sun was still bright and the sky had the clean-washed look of early May. Mack had to smile as he watched Mary Jo. The young single mother was his tenant, his friend—and the woman he’d fallen for. Hard. Lovely as ever, she wore jeans and a pink, long-sleeved top that clung in all the right places. Noelle was asleep in a stroller a few feet away.

Mack had delivered the baby last Christmas—or assisted in her delivery; that was probably a better way to put it. He’d just joined the Cedar Cove Fire Department and as the most recent hire, he’d pulled duty on Christmas Eve. It’d been a quiet night until the call from the Harding ranch. A woman said she was about to give birth. Mack had taken a medical course and received his emergency medical technician certificate, but nothing he’d learned had prepared him for the exhilaration of being at a delivery. The moment little Noelle drew her first breath she’d completely won him over.

Noelle and her mother had laid claim to Mack’s heart.

Mack parked on his side of the driveway and climbed out of the truck. He was outwardly calm, but his thoughts were in chaos. He hadn’t seen either of them in two days.

With his help, Mary Jo had planted a small garden, which she tended daily. “Hi,” she said, getting up from her knees. She brushed the dirt from her pant legs and glanced at him with a shy smile.

“Hi,” he responded. Afraid that Mary Jo would be able to interpret his feelings, he studied the neat row of green seedlings that had begun to poke through the earth. Mary Jo was still suspicious of men, thanks to her experience with David Rhodes, although Mack was making a serious effort to gain her trust. “The garden’s starting to take shape, I see.”

He crouched down and peeked at Noelle, who slept contentedly with one small clenched fist raised above her head. The baby mesmerized him. For that matter, so did Mary Jo….

“I … missed seeing you the past couple of days,” she said in a low voice.

That was encouraging. “You did?” He hated to sound too eager since he was treading carefully in this relationship. He’d made a big mistake with her and was almost afraid of what would happen next.

“Well, yes. The last time we talked, well … you know.”

Mack straightened and nervously shoved his hands in his back pockets.

“You told me it wasn’t a good idea for us to continue with the engagement,” she said, although he didn’t need any reminder.

“That seemed for the best,” he muttered. “But—”

Before he could qualify his remark, she broke in. “And you’re right, it is for the best, especially if you don’t love me.”

Mack couldn’t believe he’d actually said that. “No, I just thought—”

“I understand,” she said, cutting him off again. “You proposed because you were trying to protect me.”

Mack studied her through narrowed eyes. “You didn’t hear from David Rhodes again, did you?”

“No.” She shook her head emphatically.

Noelle’s biological father had threatened, more than once, to take the baby from Mary Jo, which Mack felt was nothing more than a bluff. But it had frightened her so badly that she’d panicked and decided to move back to Seattle. Back to her brothers, who’d look after her and the baby.

Afraid he was about to lose them both, Mack had suggested marriage. Mary Jo had accepted, with the stipulation that they have a six-month engagement.

That wasn’t the only stipulation. She’d insisted there be no physical contact. That was when Mack had realized his mistake. Mary Jo’s sole reason for moving to Cedar Cove had been to escape her domineering older brothers. In offering to marry her, Mack was doing exactly what they’d done. His motive had been to keep a close watch over her, to protect her. Because he loved her, yes, but without recognizing it, he’d assumed the role her brothers had played in her life. No wonder Mary Jo had stalled their relationship.

A few days after they became engaged, he noticed the shift in her attitude. No longer did she treat him as her friend. No longer could they tease and joke and affectionately kiss. He’d taken control of a situation in her life, squelching Mary Jo’s first tentative efforts toward independence. She’d said yes to his proposal, but it wasn’t because she loved him.

A month passed before Mack figured out what was wrong and why he had to break off the engagement. In his eagerness to be with her, to marry her, he’d nearly ruined everything.

At least neither of them had mentioned the engagement to their families. For his part Mack knew his parents would’ve seen through his reasons immediately. They would’ve said it was too soon, pointing out that Mack and Mary Jo didn’t know each other well enough to make that kind of commitment.

They would’ve been right.

Mack had acted on impulse, his desire to protect her overcoming his better judgment. He needed to bide his time and let the relationship progress naturally.

One problem was his lack of finesse with women. Not that he was totally naive, but none of his relationships prior to meeting Mary Jo had been serious or long-lasting.

He did have a sister—two sisters, actually. Only he hadn’t known about the second one until a few years ago. He’d always been close to Linnette and had now begun to develop a friendship with Gloria.

Linnette had often advised him on relationships, but she’d moved to some Podunk town in North Dakota. They managed regular phone conversations; despite that, Mack hadn’t been smart enough to seek her opinion before he proposed to Mary Jo.

In trying to undo his mistake, Mack had committed another one. He’d broken off the engagement by telling Mary Jo that although he was fond of her, his real love was for Noelle.

It’d seemed like a reasonable approach at the time. He’d hoped to back out of the engagement and save face as he did—let her save face, too. Instead, he’d further complicated an already complex relationship. If there’d been a worse way to handle the situation, he couldn’t imagine it.

What he should’ve done was simply be honest. Whoever said honesty was the best policy—Ben Franklin? Mother Teresa? Bill Clinton? Oprah?—was absolutely correct.

Then the following morning, Mack had been on duty at the fire station. He’d felt uncomfortable and anxious about seeing Mary Jo ever since. This was their first encounter since that day.

“I don’t expect to hear from David again,” Mary Jo was saying. “Like you said, I think it was an empty threat. He only wants Noelle so he can manipulate his father into giving him money.”

Mack nodded. “If you do see him, call me and I’ll deal with him.” As soon as the words were out, Mack wished he could take them back. The whole point of breaking off the engagement was to let Mary Jo solve her own problems.

Instead of responding, she occupied herself with rearranging Noelle’s blanket.

Mack rocked back on his heels and removed his hands from his pockets. He wanted to groan. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? “I guess I should check the mail,” he said with a sigh. He’d just headed over to the mailbox when Mary Jo called him back.

“I learned something about those letters.”

“Letters?” Mack asked in confusion.

“The ones I found under the floorboards in the closet.”

That box of World War II letters had completely slipped his mind. “Tell me,” he said quickly.

“I’d rather show you.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like to come by for dinner?” she asked. She bit her lip, as if she wasn’t confident that inviting him was such a good plan, after all. “I don’t want you to feel any obligation….”

“No, I want to,” he said with more enthusiasm than he’d intended. “I mean, if you’re sure about having me over.”

“I am.”

Mack checked his watch. “It’s quarter after six now. Shall we say in an hour?”

“An hour,” she agreed.

His spirits lifted. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything the way he’d feared. “See you then,” he said with a relieved smile.

“Okay.” She smiled back, and he felt a sudden hopefulness.

Not until he was on his porch steps did it occur to him to ask if there was anything he could contribute. A salad? No, wine was probably better. He turned and, to his surprise, found Mary Jo watching him. Looking guilty, she glanced away.

“What can I bring?” he asked. “For dinner.”

She gave a half shrug. “I’ve got chicken-and-vegetable stew in the Crock-Pot and I’m making biscuits. I can’t think of anything else.”

“How about a bottle of wine?” When she nodded, he said, “See you around seven.”

After collecting the mail, Mack let himself into his side of the duplex, closed the door and breathed deeply. His sense of excitement was nearly overwhelming. In less than an hour he’d have a chance to make up for the foolish, clumsy way he’d ended the engagement—with a lie. He’d have a chance to start again, to reestablish their relationship on a more equal footing.

Fifteen minutes later, Mack had showered, shaved and changed clothes. He threw a load in the washing machine and set the dials. With another half hour to kill, he walked restlessly from room to room. This evening was important, and it could set the tone for many evenings to come.

In the past he’d often visited Mary Jo and Noelle. She’d regularly invited him over but not, he now suspected, out of any great desire for his company. Mary Jo was simply accustomed to having people around. Until recently she’d lived with her three older brothers.

She’d cooked for her family, although Mack knew they did their share of household chores. She was used to preparing meals for three hungry men; no wonder she always made enough to feed a family. So it was easy to invite an additional person, Mack told himself. She didn’t make extra with him in mind.

Not that he was complaining. Far from it. He liked spending time with her, being part of her life. Entertaining Noelle—that was his job most nights. He held and played with the baby while Mary Jo finished dinner preparations, and then later, they sat together and watched television or played cards. She had card sense, as his father would’ve put it. They talked, too, but not about anything deep or too personal. They’d talk about what they’d read or seen on TV, or mutual friends and acquaintances in Cedar Cove. Both were careful to avoid religion and politics, although he guessed they held similar views.

At the end of the evening, he’d kiss her good-night. After their so-called engagement, those kisses had become more brotherly than playful or passionate. That was what had initially convinced him the engagement was all wrong.

Considering the way David Rhodes had treated her, he understood that Mary Jo would be wary of entering a new relationship. Her trust in men—and in her own ability to judge them—had been badly shaken. But surely she’d come to recognize that Mack was a man of his word. That he genuinely cared for her and the baby and would never do anything to bring them harm.

He worried that he wasn’t as good-looking as Rhodes. He wasn’t as smooth, either, but that probably didn’t attract Mary Jo anymore, not after being involved with a player like David. Unlike Rhodes, Mack wasn’t tall, dark and handsome. He was just under six feet and his brown hair had a hint of auburn in it, which accounted for the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He was an average guy, he supposed. He might work for the fire department, but he doubted anyone would select him for one of those hunk calendars.

Mary Jo, however, was beautiful. He wasn’t surprised that someone like David Rhodes would notice her. Mack had long decided that her beauty was part of the problem; it put her out of his league. He was sure she could have her pick of any man she wanted. All Mack could hope for was that, given enough time, she’d want him.

When he knocked at her front door, Mary Jo immediately opened it, almost as if she’d been waiting for him, although that was unlikely to be the case. Noelle cooed from her seat and waved her arms, and he chose to see that as a greeting just for him.

“How’s my girl?” he asked. He handed Mary Jo the bottle of chilled pinot grigio he’d taken from his fridge, then walked into the living room and reached for the baby. As he lifted her in his arms he grinned at Mary Jo. “I’ve only been away a couple of days and I swear she’s grown two inches.”

“She changes every single day,” Mary Jo said. “I see it, too.”

He tickled Noelle’s chin and she gurgled back, which made him laugh.

“There are those World War II letters,” Mary Jo said, pointing at the coffee table.

Mack looked away from Noelle long enough to glance at the cigar box sitting there. He could tell it was faded and a little shabby. “How many letters were inside?”

“Dozens. It didn’t seem like that many when I found them, but the paper is really thin.”

She’d been enthralled by her discovery. Mack was interested, too—who wouldn’t be? These letters were a direct link to history, a personal connection to some of the most momentous events of the previous century.

“The article I read on the internet called this paper onionskin and it said the letters were referred to as V-mail.” She smiled at that. “I think the V stands for victory.” She sat on the sofa and Mack joined her, still holding the baby. He divided his attention between Mary Jo and Noelle.

“I’ve read them twice. They’re addressed to Miss Joan Manry.”

“I remember.” Mack recalled the recipient’s name, now that she mentioned it, although not the sender’s. He cocked his head but couldn’t read the return address. “Who are they from?”

“His name is Jacob Dennison and he was a major stationed in Europe during the war. Some of his letters have black marks on them, but a lot of them don’t have any at all. I assume those marks were put there by censors. You know, I read that there were over two hundred censorship offices. Their job was to ensure that military personnel didn’t reveal anything sensitive in their letters.” She paused. “Of course, that doesn’t explain why these letters were hidden.”

“I’m sure that had more to do with Joan’s circumstances than Jacob’s,” Mack said wryly.

“Well, even with the black marks, I’ve been able to follow quite a bit. They’re fascinating. I can hardly wait for you to read them.”

Mack nodded, caught up in her excitement.

“Joan worked at the Bremerton shipyard,” Mary Jo went on, “and she lived with her older sister. Elaine—that’s her sister—was married and her husband was somewhere in the South Pacific. I gather Joan met the major at a USO dance and they started writing after he shipped out to England.”

Mack gently bounced the baby, to Noelle’s evident approval. “I’d like to take a look at the letters,” he said.

“Here’s the first one. I put them in chronological order.” She unfolded the letter carefully and handed it to him.

Maj. Jacob Dennison

36354187 Hgs. Co.

Hgs. Cond. 1st

Service Platoon.

U.K. Base APO 413%P>M> N.Y., N.Y.

January 15, 1944

Dear Joan,

How’s my best gal? My only gal! I just got another letter from you. When I was given the envelope and saw the return address it gave me the biggest smile. I read it three times because it made me feel even closer to you. I’m awfully homesick, but I close my eyes and see your face and everything seems better. I think about you a lot; it helps me when I can remember familiar places and people I care about.

Until I joined the Army I’d never left the state of Washington. My mom and dad write me, too. My brother’s in the South Pacific and is seeing a lot of action. Sometimes I wish I’d joined the Marines instead of the Army because I’m eager to do my part to end this war. No one knows when the invasion’s going to happen. Soon, I hope. They have us training day and night. I’m getting to where I’m almost used to leaping out of an airplane. That sounds nuts, doesn’t it? My mother always said I was a daredevil. I guess she was right.

I’m glad you got the Christmas gift I mailed you. Sorry it arrived late. I hope that when Christmas rolls around this year I’ll be with you. I thought about that a lot when I heard Bing Crosby on the radio singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

I don’t know what to say about Elaine. I feel bad that she’s causing you problems. I wish I could figure out what she objects to about me. Would it help if I wrote her a letter? I’ll do whatever you say—anything other than not have you as my girl.

I’ll write more when I can.

Hugs and kisses,

Jacob

Mack finished the letter and set it aside. He read the next two in quick succession.

“Aren’t these letters wonderful?” Mary Jo was watching his reaction avidly.

Mack had to agree. “Yeah, they are.” He reached for another.

Maj. Jacob Dennison

36354187 Hgs. Co.

Hgs. Cond. 1st

Service Platoon.

U.K. Base APO 413%P>M> N.Y., N.Y.

March 3, 1944

Dear Joan,

How’s my best gal? I got a day pass earlier in the week and went to London and ate fish and chips. They were the most delicious I ever tasted, and that’s saying something, since I was born and raised near Puget Sound. My dad loved to fish and my mom fried up the best trout you can imagine. This fish was different and they served it wrapped up in newspaper. I even took the train to Stratford and got to see one of Shakespeare’s plays. Did you ever see King Lear? I’m not much for that fancy language, but it was a good story and it broke up the monotony. Some of the guys got drunk and didn’t get back to base on time. Don’t get me wrong—I drank my share of brew, but I was smart enough not to overdo it.

Thank you for writing. I can’t tell you how much your letters mean to me. The instant I see 1022 Evergreen Place on the corner of the envelope, my spirits rise. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, Joan. You said it’s too soon for me to tell you that, but I know what I feel. It isn’t just being away from home like you suggested, either. This is real. You said you can’t really get to know a person through letters. I think you can. I feel as though I know you, and can you honestly say you don’t know me? When I get home, God willing, I’ll ask you properly, down on one knee, to be my wife.

I’ll write again tomorrow. Write me again, too. I’ll keep in touch as much as I can. It’s lights-out so I’ll sign off for now.

Hugs and kisses,

Jacob

Mary Jo leaned forward slightly. “Were you able to find out anything about the previous house owner?” she asked. “I want to learn whatever I can about Joan and Jacob.”

Mack had forgotten that he’d volunteered to check with “the landlord”—although it was hardly necessary, since he owned the duplex. He regretted now that he’d lied to Mary Jo about that. He knew she’d be upset at the low rent he was charging her if she realized he was her landlord. She’d feel he was patronizing her or maybe that he expected something in return. Mack suppressed a despairing sigh. He just kept digging himself a deeper hole. One of these days he’d have to tell her the truth—and he would, when the time felt right. Although he wasn’t quite sure how he’d recognize that moment of clarity …

“I did say I’d look into that, didn’t I? I apologize, but I haven’t got to it yet.”

“That’s okay,” she said, accepting his answer easily enough. “Ready to eat?”

He saw that the table was set, with the pot of stew and a plate of biscuits placed in the middle of the table, wine and water glasses by each plate.

“I fed Noelle before you got here,” she told him.

That was his cue to put the baby back in her seat and sit down at the table, which he did. Mary Jo was an excellent cook—as good as his mother, and that was a real compliment. Her own parents died when she was still in high school, and she’d taken over kitchen duties, more out of necessity than desire. Still, she seemed to enjoy cooking and took pride in putting together meals that were nutritious as well as appealing.

He was no slouch in the kitchen, if he did say so himself, but until she’d moved in next door, his meals had been haphazard affairs. Other than when it was his turn at the firehouse, he never really bothered with cooking. He usually relied on frozen microwave dinners or the various fast-food choices available in Cedar Cove. He didn’t make a habit of dropping by unannounced at his parents’, but whenever he did, his mother always insisted he stay for dinner. Mack didn’t often refuse.

“Hey, this is great,” he told Mary Jo after the first bite. And it was. Tender chunks of chicken, fresh vegetables that weren’t cooked to mush, lots of flavorful broth. The biscuits that accompanied it melted in his mouth. “A guy could get used to eating like this,” he said jovially.

Mary Jo didn’t comment.

Oh, boy, he’d done it again. Would he never learn? “I, uh, didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just wanted you to know the meal’s delicious…. I’m not suggesting anything else.”

Mary Jo carefully set her fork next to her plate. “I was afraid of this.”

“Afraid of what?” He swallowed before he’d finished chewing, and the biscuit nearly stuck in his throat.

“It’s still awkward between us, don’t you think?”

He nodded, grabbing his wineglass and gulping down a mouthful.

“You don’t need to work so hard, Mack.”

He frowned, unsure what she meant.

“We’re friends, right?”

“Friends,” he repeated.

“Good,” she said. She seemed satisfied. “Friends are comfortable with each other. We shouldn’t worry that what we say is going to be taken wrong or out of context.”

He coughed and nodded again.

“Then relax and enjoy yourself. Stop worrying that I’ll be offended, okay?” She sent him a dazzling smile.

“Okay,” he said. This comment was supposed to put him at ease, and yet her words had the opposite effect. Yes, they were friends, but Mack had hoped they would be so much more.

Two

It still felt strange, yet, oh, so wonderful, to wake up every morning with his wife beside him. Linc Wyse had grown accustomed to married life with a speed that astonished him. He’d been caught up in a whirlwind from the moment he met Lori Bellamy.

Less than two months ago, her car had broken down on the highway. Linc had been in Cedar Cove checking up on his stubborn little sister, who’d moved out of the family home and into a duplex next door to McAfee. The firefighter had delivered Noelle, and next thing Linc knew, the guy was her neighbor. He seemed to be over at Mary Jo’s far too often, and Linc considered it his responsibility—his duty—to make sure nothing untoward was going on. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation his sister had gotten herself into now. One man had already taken advantage of her, and Linc wasn’t letting that happen again. He didn’t care how many times Mary Jo told him to butt out and to stop interfering.

Lori made a faint, waking sound, then yawned and arched her back before snuggling into Linc’s arms. “Is it morning?” she asked, still groggy with sleep.

Linc kissed the top of her head. Mornings with Lori were the very best of his life. “So it seems.”

“I’ll make coffee.” She leaned over to turn off the clock radio, cutting off a traffic report in midsentence.

When she started to toss aside the covers, Linc stopped her. “No need to get up so soon, is there?” He nuzzled her neck and slipped his arm around her, bringing her closer. She was warm and soft and infinitely lovely.

“I didn’t think you were the sort of man who liked to linger in bed,” Lori teased as she slid her arms around his neck. Her breasts grazed his chest and he briefly closed his eyes at the sensation.

“I never used to be,” he murmured. “Until now.” She had no idea how true that was. As the oldest, Linc had held the family together after his parents died—the family and the business.

He was the first one at the car repair shop every morning and the last one to leave at night. All he’d done was work and worry. He worried about his family, about the business, about the economy. If there was something to lose sleep over, Linc was ready to take it on.

Then he’d met Lori.

His relationships with women had always soured and he’d never been able to figure out where he’d gone wrong. But it was definitely a pattern; he’d meet someone, things would be great for a while and then it was over. He didn’t understand it. Mary Jo claimed he was too “bossy” and “controlling” but she wasn’t exactly a relationship expert, so he ignored her opinion—and the cycle of ever-shorter romances had continued. But all of that changed the night he’d stopped to help when Lori’s car had broken down.

He’d nearly driven past. He’d already put in a long day and he was still annoyed by the heated argument he’d had with his sister. But he’d stopped, because if it was Mary Jo stranded there on the highway Linc would want someone like him to help. So he’d pulled over. Lori’s car had run out of gas and he’d taken her to a service station. They’d ended up having dinner together, and then spent hours talking during the next few days.

Linc had learned that Lori had recently come out of a broken engagement—to a man who’d gone to prison for theft. Not surprisingly, it had left her disillusioned. Linc knew the feeling well. She was an old-fashioned kind of woman who expected a man to behave honorably. He was an old-fashioned kind of guy who demanded honor from himself and others. On impulse, before they could talk themselves out of it, they decided to get married.

It was crazy. It was wonderful. Linc had never in his life felt this happy and carefree.

“Why are you smiling?” Lori asked, rising up on one elbow to study his face.

Just looking at his wife made his chest tighten. “I never in a million years thought I’d sleep in a canopy bed under pink sheets and be okay with it.” He paused. “More than okay.”

Now it was Lori’s turn to smile. “I told you it wouldn’t be so bad, didn’t I?”

“Not that I remember. What I recall is the promise you made when you lured me to your bed.”

“Lured you?” She raised her eyebrows. “As I recall, you hauled me into your arms, slammed my bedroom door and carried me across the room caveman-style.”

“Caveman? Please.”

“He-man, then.”

He-man, he could live with. “After that, I didn’t even notice the canopy, which was what you intended all along.”

“Do you mind it now?” she asked.

Linc shrugged. He’d lived with his brothers for so many years, he didn’t pay attention to all the froufrou stuff women had. Mary Jo probably had it, too, but she was his baby sister, so that was different.

Everything about Lori had his attention from the moment she’d stepped out of her car that first evening. And when she’d emerged from the bedroom in that black silk piece-of-nothing on their wedding night … The memory still excited him.

“I’ll make coffee,” she volunteered again when he didn’t respond.

“Not so soon,” he said, kissing her until they were both breathless. He watched as her eyes widened and she realized what he wanted. “Linc! I have to get ready for work!”

“You won’t be late,” he promised as he urged her onto her back and brought his mouth to hers.

Ah, yes, marriage had a lot to recommend it, and Linc was going to enjoy every minute.

A half hour later, having forgone coffee, Lori was rushing to get dressed when Linc stepped out of the shower. Her makeup—not that he felt she needed it—was done. She wore a business skirt and was pulling on a soft blue sweater. “What are you doing today?” she asked as she adjusted the neckline.

“I’m signing the closing papers on the garage.”

She looked surprised. “The deal went through already?”

Linc stood in the doorway to the tiny bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. “It sat empty for two years and the owner really wanted to sell.” Linc planned to open a branch of the family business, Wyse Men Auto and Body Shop—formerly Three Wyse Men—in Cedar Cove. His brothers were competent enough to handle everything in Seattle. By starting a second shop, he was giving them an opportunity to succeed on their own. Besides, one of the three needed to be close at hand to keep an eye on Mary Jo, although he had to admit that was more of an excuse than a reason. Linc liked living in Cedar Cove.

Okay, to be honest, he liked living with Lori.

“I only work until three this afternoon,” Lori said, moving about the room. She slipped her arms into a black jacket that didn’t match the skirt but looked good with it, then pinned a cameo to the lapel. Even Linc, most comfortable in a T-shirt and jeans, recognized that Lori had a real sense of style. He supposed it was why she worked in a high-end dress shop in Silverdale. She dabbled in designing, too, and knew how to sew.

“I’ll get groceries on the way home.” She brushed her hair, slung her purse over her shoulder and was about to leave.

Linc grabbed her hand. “Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye?”

A smile made her eyes sparkle mischievously. “No, kissing leads to other things and I’m already late.”

“One kiss,” he begged. “Please?”

“Linc,” she groaned, but then complied.

Her kiss left him weak in the knees. He had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “I’ll be back from the title company around four.”

“Great. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine so we can celebrate.”

“Good idea.”

“See you later,” she said, and kissed him again, letting her mouth linger over his. She was well aware of what she was doing to him, and he nearly staggered backward when she abruptly broke away.

“You’re an evil woman, Lori Wyse,” he called after her.

Linc headed out fifteen minutes after Lori. He had several stops to make, plus he needed to drive into Seattle and meet with his brothers about the business there.

By the time he returned to Cedar Cove, he had to sign the papers for the garage. That all took longer than he’d expected and it was almost five when he’d finished.

Linc collected the keys to the garage and went home, hoping to pick up Lori and take her down to see the garage. He had a notebook filled with ideas on how to build the business. He wanted to tell her about them, and above all, he wanted to share this moment with her. They’d take the wine over to the property and toast there.

When Linc arrived home, he saw a black Town Car parked in the very spot where he normally left his truck. Even before he reached their apartment, he heard raised voices.

“Don’t say that, Daddy!” Lori cried. She sounded close to tears.

Oh, boy. Lori hadn’t told her family yet that they were married. Linc didn’t understand why she’d delayed, but the decision was hers. When he’d asked her about it, Linc could see how uncomfortable the subject made her, so he’d dropped it.

Now her father was upset, and frankly, Linc didn’t blame him. He’d do his best to set things straight.

Squaring his shoulders, Linc opened the door and walked into the living room. Lori stood next to the fireplace, her father—a balding, heavyset man—no more than a foot away. One of his hands was raised, as if he’d been wagging his finger at her. The other was clenched at his side. At Linc’s entrance, they both turned to stare at him.

“Hello,” Linc said, hoping he sounded calm and composed. “You must be Lori’s father. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bellamy.” He thrust out his hand, which the older man ignored.

Instead, Leonard Bellamy turned back to his daughter. “Is that the man?”

“Daddy, this is my husband, Lincoln Wyse. Linc … this is my father.”

Linc walked over to Lori’s side and placed his arm protectively around her shoulders.

Bellamy continued to ignore him. “You’ve pulled some stupid stunts in your life, but this takes the cake.”

“Mr. Bellamy, I realize—”

“If I want to hear from you, I’ll say so,” the older man shouted. “Don’t you have any sense, Lori Marie? You married this man and you don’t even know him? What about his family? Who are his people?”

“If you’d allow me—”

“You,” Leonard said, pointing an accusing finger at Linc, “mind your own business. This is between me and my daughter.”

Lori squeezed his arm, indicating that Linc should do as her father said. He didn’t like it, but he clenched his jaw and waited impatiently for the other man to get to the end of his rant.

“First, you were engaged to that … that felon.”

“Geoff was a mistake.”

“A mistake!” Leonard shouted. “So that’s what you’re calling him. He was a major embarrassment to the whole family. How do you think your mother and I felt when we had to cancel the wedding? We couldn’t even say it was wedding-day jitters or make up a decent excuse. Oh, no. Geoff’s name was plastered across the front page of every newspaper on the Kitsap Peninsula. Everyone in the entire county knew why the wedding was canceled.”

“I … I didn’t know what kind of man Geoff was,” Lori said, defending herself. Her voice quavered with mortification. “I agree I misjudged Geoff, but you liked him, too, remember?”

Her father brushed off her comment. “What makes you think you have better judgment this time?” he demanded. “How long did you two know each other, anyway?”

“Long enough,” Linc said, unable to remain silent.

“I asked you to stay out of this,” Bellamy shouted. He started pacing, then stopped and glared at Lori. “What were you thinking?” Briefly he closed his eyes. “What on earth possessed you to marry a stranger?”

“Daddy …”

“Can you imagine how your mother felt to have a friend—mind you, a friend—announce that you’d recently married?”

“Daddy, please …”

“You couldn’t have told us yourself?” he bellowed, refusing to let Lori explain.

“Mr. Bellamy,” Linc said, trying again.

Lori covered her face with both hands and began to sob.

“You’ve really done it this time,” Leonard said. “You’ve consistently shown poor judgment, and worse, you never seem to learn from your mistakes.”

Frowning, Linc took a step forward. He understood why Lori’s father was upset, but the man was crossing the line now.

“No one in the family has ever done anything like this. Your mother’s beside herself.”

“I’m sorry,” Lori sobbed.

“As you should be. You made one stupid mistake and then you immediately followed that up with another.” He whirled around and studied Linc through narrowed eyes. “A mechanic, Lori? For heaven’s sake, why would you marry a mechanic? It isn’t embarrassing enough that our daughter elopes without a word to her family, but then you have to marry a man with oil under his fingernails, an uncouth, uneducated … mechanic? What’s the matter with you, girl? Don’t you have a brain in your head?”

“Mr. Bellamy,” Linc said, his voice hard. It was one thing to belittle him, but Linc wasn’t going to stand idly by while Lori’s father chastised her as if she were a child. “I can see why you’re upset. I’ll be the first to admit that we rushed into this marriage, but that doesn’t give you the right to come to our home and ridicule my wife.”

“Your home?” The other man’s face reddened.

Lori’s hand tightened around Linc’s forearm and she squeezed hard. “This building belongs to my parents,” she whispered. “I don’t pay rent.”

Linc hadn’t known that—and wished she’d told him. “If you want us to move, we’ll be out by the end of the month,” he offered.

“I want you out, all right,” Bellamy raged, jerking one thumb at the door. “Out of my daughter’s life.”

That wasn’t going to happen. Rather than argue, Linc shook his head. “Lori and I are married.”

Her father snorted contemptuously. “You saw a good thing, didn’t you? Lori was easy prey. She was at a low point in her life and you decided to take advantage of her because of her name.”

The name meant nothing to Linc. “Bellamy?”

“Lori comes from a wealthy family and you were trying to—”

“Now, just a minute here!” Despite his efforts, Linc was fast losing his temper. “I don’t need your money or your name.”

Bellamy scowled back at him, his expression filled with disbelief and disdain. “We’ll see about that.” His threat hung heavy in the air.

Linc wouldn’t allow Bellamy to intimidate him. “You might own this building, but you don’t own your daughter. I suggest you leave now, before we both say or do something we’ll regret.”

Bellamy jabbed his index finger at Linc several times, then whirled around and stormed out the door. He slammed it so hard the windows rattled.

The room seemed to vibrate with tension. Lori burst into tears, and Linc put his arms around her. He held her tight against him, his shirt absorbing her tears as he gently stroked her hair.

“My mother’s friend Brenda owns the dress shop and … she must’ve told Mom. She promised she wouldn’t say anything until I’d spoken to my parents but …”

“It’s okay, Lori,” Linc whispered into her hair. “We should’ve told them sooner.”

“I know … I know—but I was afraid of what my father would say, what he might do….”

“He’ll get used to the idea soon enough.” Linc said, hoping that was true.

“You don’t know my father.”

“We’ll give him time,” Linc said. “I’ll do everything I can to prove to your family that I’m going to be a good husband.”

“It won’t matter,” she whispered. “Daddy will never forgive me…. He was still angry about Geoff and—and then I married you.”

“Do you want to end the marriage?” he felt obliged to ask.

“No, never,” she said, her arms tightening around him.

“Me, neither,” Linc murmured, and he thought he felt her smile against his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, easing her out of his arms. “We have some celebrating to do.”

She looked up at him blankly.

“I signed the final papers for the garage this afternoon, remember?”

Lori smiled weakly, then slipped her arms around him again. “I don’t care what my family thinks. I’m grateful I married you.”

Linc was grateful, too. Swinging her into his arms, he moved toward the bedroom.

“Will it always be like this?” she asked, sighing as she kissed his jaw.

“I hope not,” he said with a chuckle. “This much happiness just might kill me.”

Three

Staring at the phone on his desk, Will Jefferson mentally prepared to call Shirley Bliss—again. Twice now she’d come up with a convenient excuse to turn down his invitations. Either the woman had an incredibly active social life or she wasn’t interested. Without being vain, he found that difficult to believe. Okay, he was a little vain. He knew he was a good-looking charmer—smooth but not too smooth. Smart, successful and sexy, the latter according to more than one woman.

He was also persistent. He hadn’t come this far in life without a healthy dose of good old-fashioned grit. He’d returned to his hometown, purchased a failing art gallery and was determined to make a fresh start.

Admittedly he’d made his share of mistakes. If he had it to do over again, he would’ve done certain things differently. For one, he would’ve paid a lot more attention to his kid sister’s best friend, Grace.

Years later Grace did attract his notice, but by then it was too late. They’d reconnected shortly after Will learned of Dan Sherman’s death. He’d sent her a sympathy card and, on a whim, added his email address. Not long after that, they’d begun a friendly correspondence.

Will hadn’t known about the crush Grace had on him while they were in high school. That information had soothed his ego. His marriage was deteriorating; he and Georgia were just going through the motions. About five years into the marriage he’d stumbled into an affair with one of the women from his office. Naturally he regretted it and begged Georgia to forgive him. She did, and he was grateful. Yet his indiscretion had always been there between them, like a bad break that had never totally healed. A broken limb could remain weak forever after, unable to tolerate pressure or stress.

Her forgiveness hadn’t been complete, he realized now. It was as if she’d been waiting for him to do it again.

And he had.

But Will didn’t blame Georgia. After all, he was the one who’d strayed. Still, his wife had given him the cold shoulder for so long that when a friendly young waitress flirted with him, he’d been flattered and receptive. Sally was young, attractive and impressionable, and he’d responded.

Georgia knew about it. She had to have known, but she didn’t say a word and neither did he. Sally wanted him to leave Georgia and he might have if not for the fact that Georgia was diagnosed with breast cancer. He couldn’t walk out on his wife when she needed him most. After two years Sally ended the relationship.

Thankfully Georgia recovered and for a while he thought they might be able to have a successful marriage. He’d tried to make her happy, to recapture what they’d shared in the early days. Each week he brought home flowers and gifts; he’d suggested date nights and made a genuine effort to win back his wife. Yet nothing he did seemed to bring the light of love and affection to her eyes. Apparently it was too late; he’d cheated not once but twice, and she never trusted him again.

At that point, he was only in his late forties and, except for convenience and companionship, his marriage was dead. In the years that followed he had several other affairs. Georgia no longer seemed to mind and after a while these little flings didn’t bother his conscience, either. As it was, he and Georgia lived more like siblings than husband and wife. And yet they stayed together. He supposed it was easier for both of them than not staying together, particularly since their business and social lives were intertwined.

He’d misled Grace into thinking he was divorcing Georgia. He didn’t want to lose her the same way he had Sally. He’d fully intended to explain his situation … when the time felt right. Grace was everything he wanted, but Will had blown it. Before he could explain the whole complicated mess, she was out of his life. Nothing he said or did afterward changed her resolve. What she never knew, what he’d never had a chance to tell her, was that if she’d asked he would’ve left Georgia. Not right away but soon. As soon as he’d made the necessary arrangements.

Will had done more harm than good in his efforts to get her back. By this time Grace had met and fallen in love with Cliff Harding. She wanted nothing more to do with Will. Desperate to prove he cared, Will had acted like a total fool at the farmers’ market and started a fist-fight with Cliff. He must’ve been out of his mind. The incident still made him cringe with embarrassment.

It was at this stage that Will’s life began to fall apart. Georgia found out about Grace, although they hadn’t done anything more than email and talk on the phone. Still, his online relationship was the crack that broke his marriage wide-open. After all the years, all the extramarital affairs Georgia had purposely ignored, she left him because he’d sent a few emails to an old friend. Ironic, to say the least.

In retrospect, Will was relieved. His marriage had been over for years. Although he’d never expected to reach retirement age alone, that was his life now. Hard as it was to accept at the time, he and Georgia were better off apart.

Once the divorce was final, Will had moved home, back to Cedar Cove and the only family he had. Returning to town after all these years hadn’t been easy, especially since he’d arrived with nothing but a rental truck and a few suitcases. He’d sublet an apartment while he searched for some way to fill his time.

Olivia was the one who suggested he consider buying the art gallery. Leave it to his sister to steer him toward a worthy purpose. The gallery had been about to close, and he’d bought the business, any remaining stock and the building itself, which was one of the oldest in town and in need of repair. To this day Will wasn’t sure why he’d thought he could make a success of this. But then, he’d always enjoyed a challenge.

Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the phone. He knew Shirley Bliss’s number by heart. He’d called so often that his fingers hit the numbers automatically.

Shirley, a widowed artist whose work he’d displayed, interested him in a way no woman had since Grace Sherman—Grace Harding now. He’d fallen for Grace and come so close to making her part of his life; the fact that it hadn’t happened still depressed him.

“Hello.” Shirley’s teenage daughter, Tanni, answered his call.

“Hello, Tanni,” Will said cheerfully. “How’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You heard from Shaw lately?” he asked. By pulling a few strings he’d been instrumental in getting Tanni’s boyfriend into the San Francisco Art Institute. He wanted Shirley to be in his debt, although so far she’d shown little appreciation.

“Not really.”

The girl’s voice tensed. Clearly this was a delicate subject and one he should avoid.

“Is your mother home?” he asked next. Not having had children, Will felt at a distinct disadvantage while talking to teenagers.

“She’s in the dungeon.”

“The dungeon?”

“The basement,” Tanni said. “Where she works.”

Oh, her studio. “Would you mind letting her know I’m on the phone?”

The girl hesitated. “Mom doesn’t like to be disturbed when she’s working.”

Evidently Tanni was prepared to stand guard over the moat leading to the castle—and the dungeon. “Just tell her I’m on the phone, if you would.”

“All right.” She didn’t seem pleased about it.

Will heard Tanni set the phone down and walk away, her shoes tapping against the floor. Then he could hear her shout into the basement. After a few minutes she returned and picked up the receiver. “Mom says if you sold another piece, would you please put the check in the mail.”

“I didn’t. Tell her I have a question for her.”

“Okay.”

Once again Will heard her set the phone down, trot across the room and shout. He didn’t hear anything for another minute or so.

Then … “This is Shirley.”

If he’d recognized the lack of welcome in Tanni’s voice, it came through even more clearly in her mother’s.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you.” Will forced himself to sound his most charming.

“It’s fine.” Some of the irritation left her voice. “I was in the middle of something but I needed a break, anyway.”

He relaxed a bit. “I called to see if you were available this Saturday night. I have tickets for the Playhouse.” He didn’t give her a chance to reject yet another invitation. Instead, he continued in a conversational tone. “Peggy Beldon stopped by earlier in the week. She’s redecorating the master bedroom and bought an original piece—a collage. She mentioned that Bob’s starring in the production of Fiddler on the Roof. That’s a favorite of mine and I like to support our local theater.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Will, I’m sorry but I promised Miranda I’d attend the fundraiser at the library this Saturday.”

Okay, he’d half expected this kind of response. “I might be able to trade in the tickets for another night.” He wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Unlikely,” Shirley said, and he heard a hint of regret in her voice—or thought he did. “I read in the Chronicle this morning that the tickets have completely sold out. The theater might add extra shows.”

“Well, maybe we can go to one of those.”

“Maybe,” Shirley said.

“What about Sunday?” he blurted out, not sure what to suggest. A stroll along the waterfront? A movie? Coffee? He’d tried all those before and gotten nowhere.

“That won’t work, either. Miranda and I—”

“Just who is Miranda?” Will asked, gritting his teeth. He’d never heard the other woman’s name before and all of a sudden it was Miranda this and Miranda that. He hadn’t even met the woman and already he had the distinct feeling she was a troublemaker.

“Miranda’s a good friend. We’ve known each other for years. We drifted apart but after my husband died we reconnected. Miranda lost Hugh, her husband, about five years ago. You might’ve heard of him—Hugh Sullivan, a landscape painter. Anyway, she’s been helping me navigate widowhood.”

Will wanted to be the one to guide Shirley to new love and a new life. He’d hoped they could find this path to happiness together.

“I think it might be best if we tried to get together another time,” she said with finality.

Before he could propose another potential outing, Shirley ended the conversation. “Thanks for calling, Will. Bye now.”

He couldn’t come up with anything fast enough to stop her from disconnecting. When he started to sputter something, the telephone droned in his ear. Shaking his head, he hung up.

Perhaps he was losing his touch. It wasn’t his looks. Even now that he’d grown older, his brown hair with its silver accents gave him the distinguished appearance of a man who was confident and comfortable with himself.

He routinely worked out; he wasn’t fanatical about exercise but he kept in shape. Although he’d recently purchased the gallery, he’d managed his finances effectively. He wasn’t rich, but he was well off.

Georgia, being Georgia, had been more than fair in their divorce settlement. Apparently she felt guilty for filing. Another irony, since he was the one who’d cheated on her. He knew his mother and sister kept in touch with his ex. He didn’t. Contact between them would be just too … awkward.

Will didn’t know what it was about him that scared Shirley Bliss away. So many women fawned over him, and attracting the opposite sex had never been a problem until he met Shirley.

Despite her skittishness, Will sensed that she was attracted to him, that she wanted to know him better. For whatever reason, Shirley couldn’t or wouldn’t let him get close.

Then he understood.

The answer should’ve been obvious. Shirley did want to date him. She felt, just as he did, that they’d be terrific together. She felt the same sparks Will did.

But Shirley was afraid.

That was understandable. He should’ve recognized it long ago. After years of being married to the same man, Shirley was terrified of what would happen if she allowed herself to have strong feelings for someone else.

Now that he’d figured it out, Will decided he could afford to take some time to work on a strategy to convince her….

Saturday night, after closing, he looked through the gallery windows and caught a glimpse of the flickering lights of the shipyard across the cove. Down at the marina, sailboats bobbed on the gentle swell of the wake created by the Bremerton ferry. From there, his gaze moved toward the library. He’d read about the fundraiser but hadn’t thought much about it until Shirley said she had plans to go with her friend.

Doubt flickered in his mind. He couldn’t help wondering if what she’d said was true—if she really was at the fundraiser. The only way of confirming it was to show up there himself. He didn’t have any other plans, since he wasn’t willing to attend the theater on his own. So Will made the sudden decision to become a library supporter. He still found it uncomfortable to see Grace, but she needed to know he’d moved on, too, and there was no better way to prove it.

He shaved and splashed on a light dose of citrusy cologne, then put on a gray vest his mother had knit him on impossibly small needles. He couldn’t begin to imagine how many hours this had taken Charlotte. Will tended to wear it on special occasions and this evening, he felt, was special—an opportunity to make a real connection with Shirley.

With his hands in his pants pockets, Will walked casually down the hill to the library. Even before he reached the end of the block he could hear the music drifting up from the open library doors. Grace had brought in a chamber music group; this event was more formal and elegant than he’d assumed.