44 Cranberry Point. Debbie Macomber
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The four women continued to discuss the event and it was after eight before they ended the meeting. Margaret White walked out to the parking lot with Grace. “I don’t know about anyone else but I’d write a blank check to spend an evening with Cliff Harding.”
Grace forced a smile.
“I nearly pass out every time he comes to the vet’s office.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “See you next week,” she said. She climbed into her car and drove off.
Grace slid into her own vehicle and braced her hands against the steering wheel. The thought of Cliff with another woman made her feel a regret so strong that for a moment she was nearly sick to her stomach. She couldn’t bear it and at the same time realized she had to.
Worst of all, she was to blame for her own unhappiness.
Chapter Six
Peggy put the finishing touches on the dinner table as Bob straightened up the family room. He was pleased Peggy had chosen to serve their guests in the kitchen rather than the formal dining room. Jack and Olivia, who were back from their honeymoon, were coming for dinner, and he considered Jack as much family as friend. Olivia now, too. In some ways, however, Jack was even closer than family.
Although Bob had twenty-one years of sobriety behind him, he knew he was a single drink away from insanity. He still took it one day at a time and routinely attended AA meetings. It was through Alcoholics Anonymous that he’d met Jack Griffin. Bob and Peggy had been living in the Spokane area when Jack approached Bob and asked him to be his AA sponsor. That was the beginning of their strong friendship.
After Bob and Peggy returned to Cedar Cove and purchased this house, they’d invited Jack to visit. He’d fallen in love with the small-town community. When the editor’s job opened up at The Cedar Cove Chronicle, Jack-a longtime newsman-had applied and been offered the position. Soon after he moved to town, he met Judge Olivia Lockhart. It’d taken some mighty fast talking on Jack’s part, but he’d finally convinced her to marry him. Bob was proud to have stood up as Jack’s best man.
“Honey, would you fill the water glasses?” Peggy asked as she scurried about the kitchen.
“Sure thing.” His wife was a marvel, Bob thought as he dumped ice cubes into the pitcher. Peggy was a master gardener, homemaker and cook extraordinaire. The scent of her chicken cordon bleu wafted through the kitchen and made his mouth water. He knew she’d prepared his favorite broccoli salad and a special mashed-potato casserole as part of their meal. Peggy had made a habit of cooking all his favorite dishes since Sheriff Davis’s last visit-as if she was determined to make his last days on earth happy ones. Not that she’d admit it, he realized, but Bob knew she was worried and he humored her.
Much of the success of Thyme and Tide was due to Peggy’s skill at making people feel welcome and comfortable. Bob didn’t discount his own talents. He was a reasonably adequate handyman, but it was Peggy who held everything together, including his life.
She was busy at the sink-doing what, he could only guess. He finished his assigned duty, set the pitcher aside and came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.
“Bob,” she protested as he spread kisses down the side of her neck. “We have guests due any minute.”
“Hmm.”
“They’re the ones on the honeymoon, not us.”
“Does that mean you’re not interested in a little hankypanky?”
“Bob Beldon!”
“Is that a yes, you are, or a no, you’re not?”
“It’s a yes, but could you kindly wait until after our guests leave?” She feigned impatience, but Bob knew her far too well. Their marriage had gone through several stages, some good and some difficult, but through it all their love life had remained active. Peggy’s talents extended into the bedroom and for that, Bob was most appreciative.
The doorbell chimed and Bob released his wife. Peggy made a show of tucking in her blouse. This was the first week they’d been without overnight guests, and the absence of people in the house had taken some getting used to. Bob enjoyed it for a change, but he knew that before long they’d both grow bored.
“Do you want me to get that?” Peggy asked.
“No, I will.”
Peggy sighed, and Bob sensed that she was nervous. She didn’t know Olivia well, and he could tell that Peggy sincerely hoped they’d all be friends. She hadn’t worked quite this hard to impress someone in a very long while. Dinner in the kitchen would be more intimate, more casual, and definitely suited Jack’s personality. Olivia’s, too, he hoped…
Jack and Olivia Griffin stood at the front door, looking relaxed and very much in love. Jack had his arm around Olivia’s waist as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from her.
“Welcome back,” Bob said, stepping aside to let them in. “You both look fabulous.”
“We are fabulous,” Jack said, smiling down at Olivia.
Bob had to admit they made an interesting couple. Jack was by far the more easygoing of the two. Olivia held an important position in the community, so perhaps it was only natural that she’d be more formal. Yet they were good together, good for each other in the same way he and Peggy were.
“Welcome,” Peggy said as she walked into the living room. “I hope you had a wonderful honeymoon.” Jack came forward to kiss her cheek.
“We did,” Olivia told her, smiling. “Unfortunately, we have to be back at work first thing in the morning.”
“I’ve got to get out the Friday edition of the paper,” Jack said, “and Olivia’s due in court.”
“I was lucky to get as much time off as I did,” she added.
Peggy hung Olivia’s jacket in the hall closet. Jack shrugged off his raincoat and threw it over the back of a chair.
“Are we early?” he asked, glancing at his watch.
“Not at all, your timing’s perfect.” Peggy scooped up his coat and quickly brought it to the closet. “I’ve got just a few things to do and then dinner will be on the table.”
“How can I help?” Olivia asked as she followed Peggy into the kitchen.
“Most everything’s finished, but you can keep me company.”
Bob was grateful for a few minutes alone with his friend. Rather than lead Jack into the family room, he stayed in the formal living room. The last time he’d sat here had been with Roy McAfee and Sheriff Davis. That was the day he’d met Hannah Russell, the daughter of the man who’d died in his home. The daughter of a long-forgotten friend. Bob didn’t want to think about any of it, but he couldn’t ignore the dead man, either.
“You’re looking well,” Bob said. He sat in the wingback