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
