Maryellen stretched out her hands.
Rachel frowned. “I wondered, but now I know. You didn’t hear from Jon, did you?”
“Is it that obvious?” Maryellen tried to make a joke of it and failed.
“Yes.” Rachel lifted Maryellen’s hands for inspection. “Look at these nails! They’re a disaster. I can always tell when something’s troubling you by looking at your fingernails.”
“I know, I know.” She’d chipped the polish on two nails and broken another. Rachel was right; she was a mess and in more ways than one.
Rachel nonchalantly reached for a cotton ball and polish remover. “I saw Jon the other day, down by the waterfront with Katie. I think it’s so cute the way he hauls her around on his back, all bundled up and everything. He had his camera around his neck.”
Maryellen had seen Jon with Katie in exactly that way a dozen times. She marveled at what a good father he was. She felt sure that Katie would love the outdoors with the same energy and enthusiasm as Jon.
“Speaking of Katie, how’s she doing?” Rachel asked. “Last time you were in, she’d just gotten over a cold and an ear infection. Poor little thing.”
“She’s much better.” A fact for which Maryellen was eternally grateful. Katie’s illness had been a nightmare for her. She was astonished by how well she’d managed to function on so little sleep. Not that she wanted to try it again anytime soon. “Katie’s crawling around like crazy. I’ll bet she starts walking early.”
Rachel sighed and vigorously rubbed the Forever French polish from Maryellen’s fingertips. “I’d love to have a baby. I’m telling you, Maryellen, that biological clock of mine is getting louder than Big Ben. I’m almost thirty, and if I don’t meet someone soon, I have a feeling I never will.”
Men or the lack thereof was a frequent topic between them. Rachel liked to say that her chances of meeting eligible men in a hair-and-nail shop were equivalent to losing weight on a diet of hot fudge sundaes. She’d done the bar scene, hung around at all the “guy” places. A year ago, she’d even enrolled in a mechanics class at the community college. Not a single date had come as a result of all that effort, and Rachel was discouraged.
“Anytime you want to borrow Katie for a fix, let me know,” Maryellen told her.
“I just might.” Rachel dumped the used cotton balls in the garbage and picked up her file. “Enough about my pathetic love life, let’s talk about you and Jon.”
As if there was anything to talk about. “Unfortunately, it all seems pretty hopeless.”
“Why?”
There was no easy way to answer that question. She hadn’t intended to tell Rachel what she suspected, but the words were out before she could stop them. “I think he’s involved with someone else.”
Rachel looked up and held Maryellen’s gaze. “I don’t believe it.”
Maryellen mumbled a response, her head lowered. This was humiliating enough without inviting the entire shop to listen in.
“What?” Rachel asked. “I didn’t hear you.”
Embarrassed, Maryellen said, “I practically threw myself at him not once, but twice—and Jon turned me down both times.” She spoke in a hoarse whisper. The morning they’d awakened next to each other and he’d moved away from her had been a low point for Maryellen.
“That’s what I mean,” Rachel whispered back heatedly. “If Jon didn’t love you, he’d have taken what you offered, and just enjoyed himself. Then he would’ve left without a backward glance. But, you’ll notice, Jon didn’t do that. He exhibited self-control.”
“But why?” Maryellen demanded. If Jon truly loved her, she’d know it; she’d feel it. If he did care for her, she wouldn’t have felt so utterly devastated when he walked away.
“That I can’t answer,” Rachel murmured as she continued to file Maryellen’s nails.
“Maybe he’s seeing one of the women he works with,” Maryellen said, and her heart grew heavy at the thought. The Lighthouse employed lots of single women who worked as waitresses. There were others in the kitchen. And his photographs were gaining more and more attention. Maryellen had been around the artists’ community long enough to know how attractive women found creative men.
“There’s no one else,” Rachel said, with such conviction that several heads turned in their direction.
“How can you be so sure?”
Rachel concentrated on her filing. “I wish I could give you definite proof. I can’t, but I’m convinced he loves you.”
Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Maryellen desperately wanted to believe that, too.
“You know,” Rachel said suddenly. “Here’s a thought. You could always ask him if there’s someone else.”
Maryellen immediately shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Well…because…” Maryellen couldn’t think of a reason quickly and found herself stuttering. “It’s out of the question,” she said with finality.
Rachel paused again. “You don’t want to know, do you?”
Maryellen gaped at her.
“You’re afraid of the truth,” Rachel insisted.
Maryellen started to defend herself and then admitted Rachel was right—she was afraid.
“What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Rachel said next. “My mother used to ask me that whenever I had a problem. It always got me thinking, you know?”
Maryellen realized she needed to do some thinking, too. This situation with Jon was making her miserable, and there was no solution in sight.
“You love him, Maryellen.”
“I know.”
“I don’t understand why two people who so obviously care for each other have such a hard time finding happiness.” Rachel released a long slow sigh. “I have to tell you, this is not encouraging to someone like me.”
“You’ll find a husband,” Maryellen said. Surely a woman as lovely, practical and just plain nice as Rachel would succeed in meeting a man.
“Sure I will,” Rachel agreed, “but I’d prefer he didn’t come with a police record or an addiction to drugs or booze.”
“There’s your problem, Rach,” Maryellen teased. “You’re just too darn picky.”
Peggy had seen changes in Bob over the last year, but the most dramatic ones had come after Sheriff Davis’s last visit. Her husband didn’t sleep well and was often up roaming the house at all hours of the night. He’d lost interest in his wood shop, too. He used to spend much of the day there, working on a variety of projects, but now many of them were left uncompleted. Lately nothing
