up in Seattle, Linnette had always been drawn to rural areas, so Roy wasn’t surprised by her decision. She’d be filling a critical need and living in the sort of place she liked.
“Did you hear me, Roy? Montana?”
He wasn’t sure what had upset Corrie so much. When Linnette had entered the medical program, they’d both known she wouldn’t settle down in Seattle.
“I don’t want her moving two states away!”
“Corrie-”
He wasn’t allowed to finish.
“Linnette doesn’t know a soul in Montana. There’s plenty of small towns in Washington State that need physician’s assistants.”
Roy made an effort to hold back his amusement. “It’s time to cut the apron strings, Mother.”
Evidently not a successful effort. Corrie cast him an exasperated look. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, Roy McAfee.”
“Yes, dear.”
“You’re not funny. You know that, don’t you?”
Roy resisted answering, although it was a struggle. “Where would you be comfortable having Linnette find a job?”
Corrie bit her bottom lip and didn’t answer him.
“I have the feeling you’d like her to move right here to Cedar Cove,” he joked.
At that his wife’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. She set down her coffee, then leapt out of her chair, raced around the desk and kissed him soundly.
“What was that all about?” Roy asked, pleasantly surprised.
“It’s because you, my wonderful husband, are much smarter than I give you credit for.”
Bewildered, Roy watched her fly out of his office.
Chapter Ten
Grace thrust her hands decisively into her garden gloves, ready to head out to the back garden to plant Martha Washington geraniums. It wasn’t the way she wanted to spend Friday evening, but she refused to mope around the house. Buttercup waited for her at the kitchen door, tail wagging.
“We’ll plant these now and see what we can find at the Farmers’ Market tomorrow morning. That sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?” The fact that Grace had begun to carry on whole conversations with her golden retriever had to be a sign of how lonely she was.
The Farmers’ Market had started the first Saturday of May, and although there were only a few homegrown vegetables available this early in the season, Grace enjoyed going there each week. She almost always ran into a few friends. One or both of her daughters was likely to show up, as well.
The phone rang, startling Grace. She pulled off her righthand glove and reached for the wall-mounted receiver.
“Hello.” She forced a cheerful note into her voice, hoping with all her heart that it was Cliff. He’d weighed heavily on her mind since their chance encounter at the restaurant earlier in the week. Her hope was that he’d been thinking about her, too.
“It’s Stanley Lockhart, Grace. How are you?”
Grace felt an immediate stab of disappointment. “Hello, Stan.” She kept her voice cool, not wanting to encourage Olivia’s ex-husband. “I’m fine.”
“Me, too. Listen, would you like to go to dinner tonight?”
She glanced over at the can of clam chowder that was slated to be her evening meal. Still, she preferred to eat soup alone over a three-course meal with Stan Lockhart.
“Sorry, I already have plans.”
“You can’t change them?” He didn’t bother to hide his displeasure.
“No.” How like Stan to expect her to alter her evening because he needed a dinner companion.
“What if I stop by later?” His enthusiasm was back. “It’s important.”
“That won’t work, either.” She couldn’t imagine what he had to tell her that was so urgent. Grace sincerely hoped he got the message, but the subtle approach wasn’t always successful with Stan. Inbred politeness prevented her from being rude and telling him outright that she wanted to avoid him.
The line went quiet as he contemplated her refusal. “I see,” he said, sounding depressed. “Gracie, listen, I hate to be a pest but I’d like to talk to you if we can manage it.”
Gracie. From the time she was in grade school, Grace had detested that nickname. She gritted her teeth. Stan hadn’t been in touch since that one dinner. Now this. She couldn’t even guess what he wanted.
“Why don’t you tell me what you need to see me about?”
He hesitated. “It’s better if I do it in person. Is there anyplace we can meet? Drinks? Coffee? You say when and where, and I’ll be there.” His tone took on a pleading quality. Grace knew that Stan’s second marriage had recently failed; he still seemed to be shaken. She sympathized, but she didn’t want to get involved with him.
“It won’t take much of your time, I promise.”
She hesitated, fearing that he’d hound her until she gave in. “I plan to be at the Farmers’ Market in the morning.”
“Perfect.” He leaped on the suggestion. “I’ll see you there. What time?”
“It opens at nine.”
“Make it later. Nine’s a little early for me.”
So now he expected her to change her Saturday schedule to suit his? What sympathy she felt for him quickly evaporated. “I’ll be there at nine, Stan. If I see you then, that’ll be fine and if I don’t, I don’t.”
“All right, all right. I’ll get there as close to nine as I can. Just remember I’m coming over from Seattle.”
She’d forgotten that, but decided it didn’t matter; he was the one who considered it so important that they meet.
Saturday morning, Grace loaded Buttercup into her car and drove to the Farmers’ Market. Buttercup was a well-behaved dog who loved being around people. The animal shelter had set up an adoption center in the market. Every Saturday the shelter brought down homeless cats and kittens; once a month, Grace took her turn running their booth, which was popular with children and adults alike.
Buttercup strained against her leash in a hurry to view the kittens, and Grace sharply commanded her to heel. She’d been thinking about adopting a cat herself, since she felt bad about leaving Buttercup alone all day and a cat would be company for her.
“Mom.”
Grace
