that.
“Wait until after the baby’s born,” Kelly whispered, her voice cracking.
“Oh, Kelly.”
“Does Maryellen know you want to divorce Dad?”
“I talked to her last week.” She’d delayed mentioning it to Kelly for exactly this reason. No matter what Dan was guilty of doing, Kelly would find an excuse for him.
“The baby doesn’t have anything to do with the divorce,” Grace said firmly. “Nothing at all.”
Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes clouded with tears. “Give him more time. It’s only been six weeks.”
Six hellish weeks. The six longest weeks of Grace’s life. Her daughter apparently didn’t understand what Dan’s disappearance had done to her. It was difficult to hold up her head in public. Difficult to meet library patrons with a smile when it felt as though her life had been ripped in half. Grace saw the pitying looks in their eyes. She heard the whispers and knew they were talking about her.
“This baby deserves to be brought into a whole family,” Kelly said stubbornly.
Grace wondered if it’d do any good to point out that she wasn’t the one who’d splintered the family unit. Dan had walked out on her, not the other way around.
Then, as if she’d been waiting to deliver the final punch, Kelly reached for her purse and removed a shiny piece of rolled paper.
“What’s that?” Grace asked.
“A picture of your grandchild.”
Grace’s heart started to pound faster. “You had your ultrasound?”
Kelly nodded. “Here’s your grandbaby, Mother.”
This technology hadn’t been available when Grace was pregnant with the girls. She studied the circular array of lines and squinted, barely able to make out the baby’s form.
“Oh, my goodness,” Grace whispered, awed by the sight.
“That’s Dad’s grandbaby, too,” Kelly said.
Grace’s heart sank.
“Tell me you’ll wait before you file for divorce.”
“Kelly…”
“Please?”
Grace sighed. “All right, but just until after the baby’s born. Deal?”
Kelly gave her a relieved smile. “Deal.”
Thirteen
Olivia Lockhart left the Boeing 767 and stepped off the jetway. She was just returning from San Diego and a one-week visit with her son, his wife and their new baby. Isabella Dolores Lockhart was born in the wee hours of May eighteenth. The following morning, unable to stay away a moment longer, Olivia had boarded a plane for California. In seven short days, she’d fallen completely in love with her first grandchild.
Collecting her luggage, Olivia glanced around, wondering if Justine was late. Her daughter had volunteered to pick her up at Sea-Tac Airport and was normally punctual. Her suitcase in hand, unsure what to do, Olivia walked over to the bank of phones.
“Looking for a familiar face?” a man asked from behind her.
Olivia knew the sound of her ex-husband’s voice as well as she knew her own. “Stan! What are you doing here?”
“What else? I came to collect you.”
“But Justine—”
“I asked her to let me do the honors.”
Olivia couldn’t help feeling surprised. She rarely saw Stan and they didn’t speak all that often. At fifty-six, he was still vital and handsome, and she smiled as he kissed her cheek, then relieved her of her bag. She’d vowed to love this man all her life—and despite the divorce, still did. It was a love that continued to this day because of everything they’d once meant to each other. Because of what they’d had—and what they’d lost.
“I thought this would give you an opportunity to tell me about the baby. How’s James?”
After her visit, Olivia felt reassured. “I don’t think we need to worry about James.”
“You like his wife?”
“Very much,” she told him. “I have pictures of the baby. Oh, Stan, she’s adorable.”
“Don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those silly grandmas with a purse full of pictures.”
“In a heartbeat. I’ve waited a long time for this.” Most of the friends they’d once shared were grandparents several times over by now.
Together they headed toward the short-term parking on Sea-Tac’s lower level. Olivia told him about the baby as they went, barely paying attention as Stan paid for parking and led the way down the escalator. They walked along the row of parked cars until he suddenly stopped in front of a red convertible.
Olivia did a double take. Stan in a BMW? A convertible, no less. Leave it to her ex-husband to buy a convertible in a city that had three solid months of rain every year!
“When did you get this?” she asked, not even trying to disguise her amusement.
“Do you like it?”
“I absolutely love it! You’ll put the top down, won’t you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
He was smiling as he slid into the front seat. He started the engine and made a real production of lowering the top. When he’d finished, they were both laughing. “This reminds me of that beat-up old convertible you had in college,” Olivia said between giggles. “Remember when the top got stuck halfway up?”
They talked comfortably throughout the drive. As they waited at a light, Olivia showed her ex the first photographs of their granddaughter.
“Born May 18th,” Stan reminded her. “That’s the day Mount Saint Helens blew, isn’t it?”
As if either one of them was likely to forget. They’d driven to Portland for the weekend. Stan was attending some engineering conference and while he went to meetings, Olivia had taken the three children over to Lloyd Center. The shopping mall, with a skating rink in the center, had fascinated eight-year-old Jordan. Olivia had tried to shop, but with three children constantly underfoot, it’d been an impossible task and she’d finally given up. After renting skates for herself and the kids, she’d spent a delightful day. Then early Sunday morning, when they were to drive home, Mount Saint Helens had the first of several volcanic eruptions. Plumes of hot gasses, ash and rock had shot sixty thousand feet into the sky. The falling ash had made the drive back to Cedar Cove nerve-wracking. For several hours, they’d been trapped on the Interstate with three whiny, frightened children in the back seat. Olivia had been no less terrified.
“You do remember
