Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Seems Peggy and Hannah had a little heart-to-heart.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Yes.” Bob added sugar and cream, then stirred his coffee. “Hannah let it slip that her father sometimes used false names. Peggy asked her about it, and I gather that through the years Max had amassed a whole slew of names and identifications.”

  Roy’s eyebrows lifted. “It didn’t occur to her to bring this up earlier?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Bob reviewed what had led up to this confession. “She left the milk out all night and I got a little upset because it spoiled. After I went to play golf, Hannah came out of her bedroom and started talking to Peggy. From the way she described it, life with her father was no bed of roses, for her or her mother.”

  “She’s never said anything negative about him before, has she?”

  Bob needed to think about that. He shrugged. “Not that I can remember. It’s like she’s been living in a fantasy world. In the beginning she painted a picture of the three of them skipping through the years as happy as can be. Turns out life wasn’t quite as blissful as she let us believe.”

  “Makes sense, I guess,” Roy said, cupping his mug with both hands. “She lost both parents within a short period. In tragic circumstances people tend to recall the good times instead of the bad.”

  Bob supposed his friend was right. “Didn’t Troy ask her if she knew anything about her dad using fictitious names?”

  “I’m sure he did. Did she explain why she lied?”

  “Peggy asked her the same thing. Hannah claimed she was afraid that if anyone found out, there’d be trouble and she couldn’t deal with it. From what she said—and didn’t say—trouble seemed to follow Max wherever he went.”

  Frowning, Roy sipped his coffee. “Did she happen to mention any of the names he used? Or where he got the various pieces of ID?”

  “No, but if Peggy asks, Hannah will probably tell her.” Bob didn’t think Hannah trusted him enough to confide that information, but she had a close relationship with his wife.

  “Have Peggy ask her and I’ll find out what I can. It might give us a lead.”

  Bob nodded. He’d hoped Roy would volunteer to do exactly that.

  “Did Hannah know anything about the fake ID her father carried when he died?”

  “She says she didn’t.”

  Roy studied him. “Do you believe her?”

  Bob had considered that question carefully and the fact was, he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t especially fond of the girl and couldn’t account for it, even though he had no real reason to dislike her. Peggy had taken to her fast enough, and heaven knew the young woman needed his wife’s affection. Hannah’s nervousness and her jittery manner made him uncomfortable. If Bob raised his voice even slightly, she cowered as if she expected him to pounce. Of course, what she’d told Peggy explained a great deal.

  “Anyone following you these days?” Roy asked just as the waitress delivered their breakfasts.

  “Not that I can tell. Nothing since that night, anyway. I’m beginning to wonder if I imagined it. But I know I didn’t. Maybe it’s not even connected to Max. Maybe it was some random wacko.”

  Roy poured hot maple syrup over his pancakes. “You sound disappointed.”

  “I am. It’s ridiculous to live the way Peggy and I are living. I want this resolved, one way or another. I’m also thinking it’s time we started taking guests again. This whole mess has cost us thousands of dollars.” He took a gulp of coffee. “If someone was really after me, wouldn’t he have done something by now?”

  Roy nodded. “I tend to agree with you. If someone was going to make a move, it probably would’ve happened already.”

  Bob grunted agreement through a mouthful of toast and jam.

  “On second thought—”

  “Come on, Roy,” Bob protested, not giving the other man a chance to finish.

  “You want my advice? Then I’ll give it to you, and seeing that it’s free, you should appreciate my generosity.”

  “All right, all right.” He broke the egg yolk with a corner of his toast. “Share your wisdom.”

  Roy grinned. “Only accept reservations from people who’ve stayed at the B and B before. People you know.”

  “In other words, turn down strangers who arrive in the middle of a dark and stormy night.”

  His friend chuckled. “You got that figured out.”

  Bob finished his breakfast and reached for his recently refilled mug. “I have a theory I want to bounce off you.”

  Roy relaxed, leaning against the back of the booth. “Shoot.”

  “You know everything—what happened in Nam, right?”

  Roy nodded, his expression serious.

  “You remember that I didn’t have an easy time after the war. I did everything I could to bury the memories. I sought oblivion. It was bad for everyone, especially Peggy and the kids.” He paused. “Outwardly Dan Sherman seemed to adjust to civilian life. That’s what I assumed, anyway. I didn’t see him for decades. And even when I moved back to Cedar Cove, we tended to avoid each other. So I didn’t know he struggled with demons, too.”

  Roy waited while Bob sorted through his thoughts. “From what Hannah told Peggy, Max didn’t cope with life after the war any better than I did.”

  “He drank?”

  “Some, I gather, but I don’t think that was his only problem. He pretty much became an obsessive-compulsive, although that wasn’t the term Hannah used.”

  “Remember how neatly everything was packed inside his suitcase?”

  Bob nodded. They’d all been struck by it.

  “What are you thinking?” Roy pressed.

  “When I came back from Nam, I realized that someday, some way, I’d have to pay for what happened in that village. If I’ve learned anything about life these fifty-odd years, it’s that there’s a symmetry to things.” He lowered his voice. “I…took lives, and now it seems someone wants to take mine.”

  With the words out in the open, Bob felt better. He’d been thinking about this ever since Max’s death, but hadn’t found the courage to verbalize it.

  “Go on,” Roy urged.

  “I think Dan realized this, too. He preferred to take his own life, choose his own time.”

  “I—”

  “Hear me out,” Bob insisted. “I wonder if it’s possible that a family member of one of our…victims has hunted the four of us down. He might have confronted Dan, forced him to take matters into his own hands. For that matter, what else would send Max rushing to Cedar Cove? I think whoever’s responsible is looking for revenge.”

  Roy considered his theory. “I don’t know. It could be, but I doubt it.”

  “Why? Plenty of Vietnamese have immigrated to the United States since the war.”

  “I think it’s a bit far-fetched to believe one of them has a vendetta against four American soldiers after all these years. Why wait until now?”

  Bob shrugged. “I don’t know.” Roy could be right; this scenario was probably a fantasy, something he’d invented in his own desperation.

  But nothing else made sense, either.

  Thirty-Four

  Walking into the mall parking lot on Friday evening, Rachel hummed an old Eagles song, trying to get her mind off her pathetic love life. Her one date with bachelor Nate Olsen had been exactly that. One date. One expensive date. It depressed her that she hadn’t heard from him in the two weeks since.

  Well, so be it; he’d told her he was involved with a girl back home. She could have accepted that, would have without a qualm, but then he had to go and ruin everything by kissing her. Damn, he was one good kisser. As far as Rachel was concerned, he should be arrested for possessing a lethal weapon—his lips. The way he’d kissed her had been so spectacular he’d left her in agony. That single kiss had made her ache even more for a romantic relationship.

  Not that she was desperate. Not like some of the women
who came into the shop. Only that morning she’d had a client, a working wife and mother, and listened to a litany of woes. The husband drank, was unemployed, hung around the house and was seeing another woman. The really crazy thing was that Rachel’s client was mad at this jerk’s girlfriend! In Rachel’s opinion, this client was so worried about the trees, she didn’t see the forest. Yeah, it was a cliché, but clichés were useful sometimes. Anyway, if her client did toss the bum out on the street where he belonged, he’d soon find some other woman to support him. Rachel had seen it happen again and again.

  She was so involved in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear someone call her name.

  “Rachel.”

  She turned around and discovered Bruce Peyton walking rapidly toward her. “Oh, hi,” she said, her hands tightening around her car keys. Jolene had spent the previous Sunday at her place. She’d picked up the little girl and dropped her off four hours later, with only a minimal exchange of words with Bruce.

  “Hi.” He grinned. “Jolene had a really good time last Sunday.”

  “I did, too.” They’d shopped, eaten pizza, watched videos, painted their toenails and chatted.

  “She hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

  “I’ll give her a call soon and we’ll bake those chocolate chip cookies I mentioned.”

  “She said something about that. I hope you’ll send a few of them home with her.”

  “Of course.” Rachel moved toward her car. It’d been a long week, and although she didn’t have any special plans, she was eager to get home.

  “Are you doing anything tonight?” Bruce asked.

  “Not really. Did you want to drop Jolene off?”

  “No, no,” he said hurriedly and shook his head. “She’s spending the night with a friend. It’s a slumber party.”

  “What about this Sunday afternoon?”

  “Sure, she’d like that.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  “Rachel.” He stopped her again, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Listen. Are you doing anything right now?”

  “Now?” she repeated in a puzzled voice.

  “I mean, do you have a dinner date or something like that?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

  Bruce was asking her out for dinner? “You and me? Like a date?”

  He nodded. “Not an actual date, just dinner with a friend. If you want to. If you’ve got other plans, that’s fine. No big deal. I was thinking of the Taco Shack.”

  Rachel hesitated.

  “You’ve got plans.” A defensive edge sharpened his words.

  “No, it’s just that I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  “How come?”

  She had a few questions of her own. “Why are you asking me? Why now?”

  His head reared back as if her questions were unexpected. “Why not now? Jolene’s with her friends for the night, and the truth is I’m not all that interested in my own company.”

  It certainly wasn’t any fun to sit in a restaurant alone. Rachel knew that because she’d done it herself. And really, what would she do tonight other than watch TV and eat a microwave dinner? “All right.”

  A smile smoothed out the frown lines on his face. “That’s great. Do you want to go with me or just meet there?”

  Rachel looked at her car and decided to meet Bruce at the restaurant. With anyone else, she would’ve suggested she go home, shower and change clothes. But Bruce seemed to be in a rush. It was already nearly seven. Rachel had done a perm late in the afternoon, which had taken longer than she’d expected.

  By the time she arrived at the Taco Shack, Bruce had found a place at one of the picnic tables. The menu was posted on the wall above the counter. Rachel knew everything listed on it, since she stopped in at least once a week for takeout.

  “What would you like?” Bruce asked when she joined him. He gazed up at the menu.

  “I’d like the enchilada platter,” she said. “One chicken and one cheese with extra salsa.”

  Bruce smiled, nodding. “That’s my favorite, too, but I prefer two beef enchiladas.” He removed his wallet from his back pocket as he approached the counter. The line wasn’t too long for a Friday night, although Rachel suspected that in another ten or fifteen minutes, there’d be a wait for a table.

  Bruce placed their order and carried a tray with sodas to their table. He unloaded their drinks and pulled out the chair across from her.

  Rachel suddenly realized that Bruce had come to the mall just to see her, since he’d been walking in as she was walking out. Still, she found it hard to fathom that after all this time, after their numerous conversations, he actually wanted to take her to dinner.

  “Jolene told me you went out on your date with the bachelor,” he commented, then sipped his cola.

  “I did.”

  “How’d it go?”

  She shrugged and reached for her diet drink. “All right, I guess.”

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  He was mighty curious about her time with Nate Olsen. “Probably not.”

  He studied her, frowning slightly. “You sound disappointed.”

  “I am. I like Nate. He’s a little young for me, but—”

  “He’s younger than you are?”

  Rachel burst out laughing, attracting the attention of those sitting close by. “You sound like my father.”

  “Sorry.” He lowered his head as though embarrassed. “Forget I said anything.”

  Bruce seemed jealous, which shocked her. “Bruce?”

  He looked up.

  “What’s all this about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You know what I mean. Let’s not play games, all right? When you came to the mall this evening, it wasn’t because you had some errand. It was to seek me out, wasn’t it?”

  “Anything wrong with that?”

  His defenses were up again, but so were hers. “Well, no, but why pretend otherwise? Just be honest, would you?”

  He raised his hands, palms up. “I am being honest.”

  “To yourself, I mean,” she elaborated.

  The waitress, a high-school kid judging by her appearance, brought their enchilada platters. Rachel glanced down at hers and Bruce looked at his and in a perfectly synchronized movement, they switched plates.

  “Do you mind if we eat before we continue this inquisition?”

  She gave him a quick grin. Sliding her fork over the cheese enchilada, Rachel cut off her first bite. “I didn’t intend to give you the third degree.”

  “The thing is,” Bruce admitted between bites, “I’m not exactly sure why I asked you to dinner. I dropped Jolene off at her friend’s house and here it was Friday night, and I didn’t feel like spending the evening alone. I got a hankering for enchiladas, but I didn’t want to take up an entire table just for myself.”

  “I usually order mine to go.”

  “I tried to think of someone who might be interested in coming with me, and you were the first person who popped into my head. So I figured I’d see if you were available.”

  Rachel wasn’t sure she should be flattered. At the moment she was too perplexed to figure it out.

  “Jolene likes you a lot,” Bruce said halfway through their meal.

  Rachel was fond of the little girl, too, but her feelings about the child’s father weren’t quite as straightforward. Might as well find out what was going on here. “Do you like me, Bruce?” she asked bluntly.

  “Obviously. I didn’t stop to analyze it. I thought you might be available and I was right. I’m glad.”

  “I am, too,” she said. “I was headed home for reruns of NYPD Blue.”

  “You don’t go bar-hopping with your friends?”

  She shook her head. “I learned a long time ago that a bar isn’t a good place to meet men.” Not decent men, anyway, she amended to herself. Problem was, she didn’t know where to meet men.
She was wary of the Internet and not a club-joiner. She enjoyed crafts but she had yet to meet a single guy hanging out at a quilting bee.

  “Have you had many serious relationships?”

  She shrugged. “A few.” She’d dated a guy back in her early twenties, discovered he was already married and dropped him instantly. That kind of grief she could live without. Ever since then, she’d been careful. Perhaps too careful…“What about you?”

  His gaze fell to the table. “There’s never been anyone but Stephanie.”

  The way he said his dead wife’s name led Rachel to believe there never would be anyone else.

  “I’d like to give this a shot,” he said unexpectedly.

  “This?”

  “Us.”

  She opened her eyes wide. “Are you saying you’d like to go out with me?”

  “Is that so surprising?”

  Rachel needed a sip of her soda to ease the sudden dryness in her throat. “Frankly, yes.”

  “Would you be willing to see me now and again?”

  “To what purpose?”

  Bruce’s mouth narrowed. “You’re the kind of person who reads the last page of the book before you buy it, aren’t you?”

  That was precisely what she did. She laughed. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  “I thought so. I don’t know to what end. We can agree to play this by ear. Is that okay with you?”

  “I guess.” She considered it for a moment. “Tell me something first.”

  “All right.”

  “Asking me out tonight—did it have anything to do with Nate Olsen?”

  The question seemed to trouble him, because he didn’t answer immediately.

  “Probably,” he said at last.

  At least he was honest about it.

  “If he asks you out again, would you go?”

  Now it was her turn to think matters over. “He won’t. He’s involved with someone else.” She was gathering up her purse as she spoke.

  “You’re sidestepping the question,” he said. He held the restaurant door for her and they walked into the parking lot.

  “I know.”

  “Either you don’t want to answer it or you’re afraid to.”