wedding cake. A lot of details to keep track of. All the work, all the time spent organizing and making phone calls, would be worth it, though. This would be a celebration of Cliff’s and her commitment, their love.
Cliff had gone into Cedar Cove to do some errands, and the house was quiet. She glanced around; everything was orderly and comfortable. Recently Grace had begun to make a few changes. Nothing drastic, though. Cliff had lived here on his own for twelve years, and the place had a distinctively masculine feel, so she’d added a few feminine flourishes, beginning with decorative pillows on the bed. This was followed by a row of family photographs, hers and his, on the dresser. Cliff immediately approved of the pictures, but the pillows were there for two weeks before he even noticed.
“Where did those come from?” he’d asked one night as they got ready for bed.
“I put them there,” she told him. “They look attractive, don’t they?”
He’d thought about it for a moment and agreed, then once again assured Grace she could change whatever she wanted in the house. Still, she was trying not to overwhelm him with too many alterations and additions at once. Slowly, she went about making a few changes. A couple of oil paintings, both western landscapes she’d bought at the gallery years before, had gone up next. When she pointed them out, Cliff had nodded, obviously pleased with her choices.
Jon and Maryellen had given them a print of one of Jon’s best-selling photographs as a wedding gift. It showed snow-covered Mt. Rainier against the backdrop of Puget Sound with a pink-and-lavender sunset. With Cliff’s help, she’d hung that over the fireplace. He’d admired it, too, full of praise for her son-in-law’s talent.
She’d just started checking the RSVPs against the list of invited guests when the back door opened and Cliff walked in.
“Hello, sweetheart. Would you like some lunch?” she asked, getting up from the table.
“I’m not hungry.” Without looking at her, he walked directly to the cupboard for a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.
It was past one, and Grace had postponed her own lunch, waiting for him, assuming they’d eat together. “Did you have lunch in town?”
“No.” He kept his back to her.
Grace set her pen aside. All the warm feelings she’d experienced a few minutes earlier left her. “Are you ignoring me?” she half joked, wondering at his mood.
Finally he turned to face her. His eyes held none of the tenderness she was accustomed to seeing, and her stomach tensed. She knew what had happened.
“How long has Will Jefferson been in town?” her husband asked coldly.
“I … I don’t know.” This was true, in a fashion. She was certainly aware that Will had returned to Cedar Cove, but not exactly when he’d arrived. “Did you see him?” she asked, striving to sound nonchalant.
“Oh, I saw him. He saw me, too.”
Grace closed her eyes for a second, filled with regret and remorse. She wished she’d told him when she’d first heard about it. Now she was terrified that Will would do whatever he could to drive a wedge between her and Cliff.
“You knew he was in town?” Cliff demanded.
Grace swallowed. “Olivia told me….”
“He’s here to stay?”
Grace nodded reluctantly. She hadn’t really meant to hide it from Cliff. But it’d become more difficult to tell him the longer she delayed. Considering his reaction now, she’d give anything to have told him the truth.
“You didn’t think it was important to mention this?” he asked. His voice was calm, but Grace could feel the emotion behind his question. He felt hurt, angry, betrayed.
At this point Grace feared that anything she said would only upset him further. “I probably should have.”
“Probably?”
“All right,” she agreed contritely, “I should have mentioned it—as soon as I found out. But, Cliff, I don’t—”
He didn’t respond or even let her finish her remark. Holding the mug, he walked out of the kitchen. Shocked by his unaccustomed rudeness, Grace followed him to the door and watched as he crossed the yard and entered the barn. Her first inclination was to go after him. She pushed open the screen door, then hesitated. Cliff needed a few minutes alone, she thought, and so did she.
The problem, of course, was Cliff’s marriage to Susan. His ex-wife had had a series of affairs, so trust was difficult for Cliff. Grace knew he wanted to believe in her fidelity but struggled with his experiences from the past.
She realized then that she couldn’t let another second pass without setting things straight. There’d been rain the night before, but heedless of her shoes, she started across the yard just as Cliff walked out of the barn, leading his stallion Midnight. The horse was saddled, and Cliff obviously intended to go riding.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Later,” he said curtly as he swung into the saddle.
“Cliff,” she said, gazing up at him. “Please. This is important.”
He stared down at her. “I’ll feel better after I clear my head. We can talk then.”
With a sick feeling in her stomach, she went back to the house. Sitting at the kitchen table again, she studied the guest list for the reception but couldn’t concentrate.
She paced the house, transferred laundry from the washing machine to the dryer, then decided to bake an apple pie. She hoped that by showing him how much she loved him, he’d know he had nothing to fear.
Two hours passed before he came back.
When he kicked off his muddy boots by the kitchen door, the pie was cooling on the counter. He glanced at it and, to her surprise, seemed more perturbed than ever.
“What’s that?” he asked, frowning.
“What does it look like?” she asked in a teasing voice. “I baked you an apple pie.”
“Why?” He maintained the distance between them.
Grace stood with her back to the counter. “I—I wanted you to see how much I love you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Cliff, you’re overreacting! This is ridiculous.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did I ever tell you Susan used to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Whenever I learned about her current affair, she’d bake me a pie or make dinner, which was a rarity. That was her way of telling me she was sorry. She’d promise me it was the last time, swear up and down that I was the one she really loved.”
Furious that Cliff had compared her to his first wife, Grace strode over to the counter, picked up the pie and without a word, dumped it in the garbage. “I was
