Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber

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if Jordan had stayed home from the lake that day? It was a question that still haunted her, maybe even more so now that her children were adults. What kind of person would Jordan have been? Would he have a family now? How different would her own life be? Her ex-husband, Stan’s? Justine’s? Even James’s? They’d all been profoundly affected by Jordan’s death.

      “I can hardly imagine it,” he murmured.

      “A mother never forgets,” she said simply. The pain wasn’t as intense as it’d been during the first few years after Jordan’s death. Still, at special moments like today’s lunch with Justine, it was as if the loss had just occurred.

      A car rounded the bend and she recognized it as her brother’s. Jack saw the car, too. Standing, Jack and Olivia walked down the steps to greet their guest.

      Will joined them. “Thanks for the dinner invite,” he said, then kissed Olivia on the cheek and shook hands with Jack.

      “I should be the one thanking you,” Jack said. “I’m getting steak for the first time in a month of Sundays.”

      Olivia cast a disparaging look at her husband. “Ignore him.”

      While Jack got Will a glass of iced tea, Olivia led her brother onto the porch, where they sat on two of the wicker chairs that lined the wide veranda. She’d initially planned to have their conversation after dinner, but decided sooner was better. Jack brought out the tea, eyed Olivia and then excused himself, telling them he wanted to start the barbecue.

      “It’s nice here. Really peaceful,” Will commented, relaxing in his chair. He looked out over the Cove, where a pair of herons waded in the water, seeking dinner.

      “We love it.”

      Will nodded, then sipped his tea.

      Olivia plunged into the murky waters of her brother’s obsessive behavior. “Grace mentioned that you stopped by the library the other day.”

      Will didn’t respond right away. “I thought she might’ve said something,” he finally muttered.

      Olivia wanted to get to the point. Surely Will knew why she felt the need to talk to him. “You’re aware that she’s married, aren’t you?” she asked bluntly.

      “Of course.” Will sighed and shook his head. “It isn’t what you think, Liv. I made a fool of myself over her the last time I was in town. I regret that. The whole situation was unfortunate.”

      That was putting it mildly, although Olivia chose not to say so. Her brother had tried to provoke a fistfight with Cliff Harding, which was almost a joke. Cliff outweighed Will by at least fifty pounds and was in much better physical condition. The incident had mortified Grace, and Olivia had been outraged by her brother’s childish behavior.

      “Exactly why are you in Cedar Cove?” she demanded. “Because if it has anything to do with Grace, I’m telling you right now, neither Mom nor I will stand for it.”

      Her brother seemed about to argue, then appeared to change his mind. “I know stopping by the library wasn’t a good idea.”

      “No, it wasn’t. You’re my brother and I love you, but Grace has been my best friend my entire life and I will not allow you to interfere in her marriage.”

      “I know.” Will leaned forward and exhaled slowly. “I see now that inviting her to lunch wasn’t the best way to go about any of this. All I wanted to say was that I’m sorry for … well, for everything. I wish her happiness.”

      “You have to admit, moving to Cedar Cove looks pretty suspicious.”

      He shrugged uncomfortably. “I thought about it quite a bit, Olivia, but I really didn’t have anywhere else to go. I needed a change. God knows Georgia deserved a better husband, and it just seemed easier to start over someplace familiar. Mom’s here and you’re here. The two of you, plus your kids, are the only family I’ve got.”

      “You don’t intend to make any trouble for Grace?”

      “No,” he returned with such vehemence that Olivia felt she had to believe him.

      “What I’d like,” he continued, “is to buy a business or start my own, I haven’t decided which. Cedar Cove is home. I have the skills—and the cash—to make a contribution to this community.”

      “I’m glad.” Olivia wanted to trust that what he said was true.

      “Have you heard of anything that might be appropriate?” he asked.

      Olivia thought for a moment and then inspiration struck. “Oh, my goodness! This is perfect.”

      “What?” Will’s eyes widened with excitement.

      “The Harbor Street Art Gallery. I just found out it’s going to close. You’ve always had an interest in the arts.” He nodded eagerly at that, and she remembered how, years ago, he used to take very good photographs. He’d always bought paintings, too, supporting up-and-coming artists. “The gallery was doing well until Maryellen Bowman had to quit,” Olivia went on to explain. “The woman who replaced her just didn’t have the eye or the business savvy Maryellen does.”

      “Would I be able to hire Maryellen back?”

      “No, but you wouldn’t need to. You could manage it yourself. The community needs this art gallery and I really think you’re the right person.” The more she thought about it, the more Olivia warmed to the idea. “Talk to Maryellen. I’m sure she’d be willing to help you as much as she can. Keep in mind that she’s a new mother, so her time is limited. She’s also Grace’s daughter, but that shouldn’t matter—should it?”

      Will looked pleased, disregarding the comment about Grace. “I’ll call her first thing in the morning. I can get her number from you?”

      Olivia nodded. “She can give you the contact information for the owners, too.”

      “Great.”

      They smiled at each other in mutual understanding, and Olivia’s heart felt lightened.

      As if on cue, Jack reappeared. “The grill’s ready.”

      She and Will walked into the house.

      Jack took the three T-bone steaks out of the refrigerator. While they watched, he rubbed both sides with olive oil, a grilling trick he’d learned from an interview with a local chef. Collecting the silverware and plates, Will and Olivia followed him outside.

      The phone rang and for a moment, Olivia was tempted not to answer. At the last second, she hurried into the house and grabbed it.

      “Olivia, it’s your mother,” Charlotte announced.

      As if Olivia wouldn’t recognize her own mother’s voice.

      “Hello, Mom.”

      “I’m not interrupting your dinner, am I?”

      “No, no, not at all. What can I do for you?” From the way Charlotte spoke, Olivia could tell she was worried. “Is anything wrong?”

      “No,”

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