Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2

  “Because we’re a little tight for time,” Ben said, “would you be kind enough to summarize it for us?”

  “Of course.”

  Charlotte noticed the way Roy’s back stiffened—as though he dreaded what he was about to tell them. “When David said he’d left his job, he was telling the truth, although the termination wasn’t his choice. The company fired him with cause. Apparently there’s been a sexual harassment charge filed against him. He didn’t receive a severance package.”

  Charlotte wasn’t surprised David had been let go from his job.

  “But he has this new position, correct?” The question came from Ben.

  “No, I’m afraid that’s another fabrication,” Roy said. “He’s been unemployed for three months.”

  Knowing how close to the edge David was financially, Charlotte felt she had to ask, “How is he living, then?”

  Roy looked to Ben as if to ask the older man’s permission to respond. Ben gave a slight nod.

  “David’s moved in with a…friend.”

  “Male or female?” Ben inquired, frowning.

  “Female.”

  Charlotte sensed his disappointment in his son—his even greater disappointment, she amended.

  “In other words,” Ben said, betraying none of the emotion Charlotte had recognized in him, “my son is letting a woman support him.”

  Roy nodded. “That appears to be the case.”

  “What about all this talk of being a father to Noelle, supporting her financially and bringing her into his life?” Charlotte looked at Ben.

  “I can only guess he’s saying all the things I want to hear in an effort to convince me of his sincerity.”

  “There’s something else you might find significant,” Roy said after a short hesitation.

  “Yes?” Ben returned his attention to the investigator.

  “David is currently living in Seattle.”

  “Seattle?” Ben repeated. “How long has he been this close?”

  “According to what I’ve learned, it’s been a couple of months.”

  Ben’s son had been a ferry ride away and hadn’t bothered to notify his family. More telling was the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to see his daughter, who until recently had lived in Seattle, as well. This was a blow, and Charlotte knew that Ben had taken it hard.

  “I see,” Ben said after a moment. He’d made an obvious effort—a painful effort—to absorb the shock of this latest revelation.

  “I wish I had better news,” Roy was saying.

  Ben shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’d rather deal with the truth now than uncover it later.”

  Charlotte placed her free hand over Ben’s. She felt like weeping on his behalf. In only a few minutes, her husband looked as though he’d aged several years.

  “Is there anything else I should know?” Ben asked.

  Roy shrugged. “As I mentioned earlier, everything’s in the report. That’ll give you a clearer picture of your son’s life.”

  “You mean there’s more?” Ben cried. “If so, just tell me straight out.”

  Roy sent Charlotte a questioning glance. “Ben needs the truth,” she said softly.

  “Is it drugs?” her husband asked.

  “No. It seems that David has a gambling problem.”

  Ben closed his eyes briefly. “I feared as much. What about alcohol?”

  Roy winced. “I’m sorry to deliver so much bad news, especially on an important day like this.”

  “Day?” Ben asked.

  “When the Victorian Tea Room is opening its doors.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, his voice waning. “It…slipped my mind. Charlotte and I were about to leave when you dropped by.”

  Ben sounded as if he were in a trance. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing, as Charlotte walked Roy to the door.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte. Is there anything I can do?” Roy whispered.

  “No, but thank you for asking.”

  Lingering in the doorway, Charlotte watched Roy walk down the steps and across the street to his car. All the while, she tried to figure out how she could help her husband deal with yet another devastating blow from his youngest son.

  When she turned around, Charlotte was surprised to find Ben standing behind her. His eyes met hers and he smiled.

  “Do you want to stay home?” she asked.

  Ben shook his head. “My son is on a path to self-destruction. As much as I hate to see him wreck his life, there’s nothing I can do to stop him.” He exhaled slowly and held out his arm. “I can’t allow David to drag me down and I can’t live his life for him. I’d hoped he was making better choices, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

  “You’re sure you’re up to this?” she asked.

  His returning smile was gentle. “I’m not about to let David ruin this perfectly wonderful day. We’re meeting the others at the tearoom for Pastor Flemming’s blessing. Then you and I are going to be among Justine’s very first customers.” He looked at his watch. “We should be right on time.”

  Twenty-Five

  Shirley Bliss sat in her workroom, which her children often referred to as the Dungeon. She’d been doing some preparatory work for her newest piece, and she’d lost track of the hours. Shadows crept across the daylight basement walls, telling her it was now late afternoon. Tanni would be home from school soon.

  She hoped.

  It was hard to read her. Anytime Shirley dared question Tanni regarding her whereabouts, her daughter grew argumentative and defensive. After a while Shirley had stopped asking. As best she could, she monitored Tanni’s comings and goings, and she tried to remain aware of her friends. At the moment, that was mostly Shaw.

  One of the problems between Shirley and her daughter was that Tanni blamed her for the motorcycle accident that had claimed her father’s life. It might not be logical, but in Tanni’s adolescent view of the world Shirley was responsible. She’d been the one who’d finally capitulated and agreed that Jim could commute into Seattle on his Harley.

  Tanni was convinced that if Shirley had held her ground, her father would still be alive. That question would be forever unanswered.

  Sighing, Shirley made her way up the stairs and realized she’d skipped lunch. That often happened when she started work on a new project. She’d spent the day selecting different fabrics and designing a quilt using suede, cotton prints, silk, linen and yarn, as well as ribbons and cords. When the creative mood overtook her, food didn’t enter her mind. In fact, it wasn’t unusual for her to work without a break. Her best pieces were created during long stretches of time that went far into the night. Jim and the children were accustomed to her strange schedule. Now there was only Tanni at home. Jim was gone and Nick away at college.

  For Shirley, her art was a refuge and an escape. It had been for Tanni, too, although her daughter kept her drawings to herself these days. That was probably a good thing, because Shirley had been worried by the unrelenting anger and bitterness in Tanni’s sketches. She’d become introspective, shunned most of her friends and refused to talk to Shirley, to a counselor, their pastor, anybody.

  Things had changed when she started seeing Shaw, although the transition had been gradual. Despite her concerns, Shirley was grateful that in Shaw, Tanni had found someone to share her feelings with. Like her daughter, he was an artist. Unlike Tanni, Shaw had never had formal training.

  No doubt about it, he was talented. Shirley had gone out of her way to help him get the schooling he’d need if he was going to make a living as an artist. She’d be the first to admit that her motives weren’t exactly unsullied.

  Shirley was worried that the two teenagers, both burdened with a multitude of problems, were too close and would become sexually active. She was afraid Tanni might end up pregnant or, at the very least, broken-hearted, devastated by another great loss. The fact that Tanni and Shaw had discovered the skeleton in the cave outside town had only strengthened the bond between them. The
y’d become nearly inseparable ever since, and Shirley knew the dangers of that, knew where it could lead. She wanted to protect her daughter from the painful consequences of too intimate a relationship too young.

  In an effort to smooth the way for Shaw, Shirley had agreed to go out with Will Jefferson. Fortunately she rather liked Will and he was definitely attractive, but she remained wary. More to the point, Will was friends with Larry Knight, an artist she greatly admired. At Shirley’s urging, Will had approached him in an effort to get Shaw a scholarship to a reputable art school.

  She’d tried to hide her relief when Shaw was accepted into the San Francisco Art Institute. He was scheduled to fly out there in two days; he’d be working for a friend of Larry Knight’s before the summer term started in May. Although they hadn’t discussed Shaw’s leaving, Shirley realized her daughter felt torn. This was a great opportunity and she was happy for Shaw; at the same time she was worried about what it would do to their relationship.

  The front door opened and Tanni came inside. She dropped her backpack on the carpet and kicked off her shoes. Without a glance in Shirley’s direction, she headed for her bedroom. A few seconds later, the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut echoed down the hallway.

  Shirley wanted to chastise her daughter—for her rudeness, for disregarding Shirley’s frequent requests that she take her backpack to her room, for being inconsiderate of anyone’s feelings but her own. She might as well be howling at the moon for all the response she’d get.

  And the truth was, Shirley didn’t dare instigate a confrontation right now. She was too afraid Tanni would react by doing something impulsive, something foolish…. She opened the cupboard and chose a can of chicken noodle soup. Anything frozen or canned was quick and easy. Shirley didn’t have the patience to cook.

  Once the soup came out of the microwave, she sat down at the kitchen table. She’d eaten her first mouthful when her daughter walked in. Tanni looked around, saw her mother and then just as quickly turned around and left.

  That was typical.

  “How was school?” Shirley called after her.

  “Fine.”

  “You hungry?”

  “No. I’m going to my room.”

  “Okay.” Tanni’s terse rejection wasn’t unexpected. Still, Shirley had to try.

  After she’d finished her soup, she set the bowl in the sink and turned on the evening news and picked up her needles and yarn. She’d started knitting lately, nothing creative or complicated. Everything she knit, mostly squares and scarves, was for charity. Knitting freed her mind. At the end of the day, the comforting, repetitive action relaxed her and allowed her to reflect on the events of her life.

  To her astonishment, about fifteen minutes into the newscast, Tanni walked into the family room and sat in the chair next to hers. Shirley opened her mouth to utter a welcoming comment, but at the last second decided against it. If she spoke, Tanni might leave. No, it was best to let her daughter do the talking.

  “He’s going to meet other girls, you know,” Tanni finally said.

  Shirley didn’t need Tanni to explain who she meant. “Yes, he probably will. Are you afraid of that?”

  Tanni shrugged, which said she was afraid. She knew she risked losing their relationship once Shaw left for art school.

  “Do you want him to stay in Cedar Cove?”

  Tanni looked at Shirley and a half smile formed, as though the question had amused her. “No!”

  “But you don’t want him to leave either, right?”

  “Mom, think about it! Shaw’s the only real friend I have. I’m going to miss him.”

  “Yes, you will.” Maybe, just maybe, that would force Tanni to find other friends—the friends she’d had before the accident, the friends she’d abandoned.

  “He says he loves me.”

  “And you love him.” Shirley wasn’t about to discount the intensity of their feelings. The problem was, they were both so young and didn’t have the life experience to handle such a powerful emotion.

  “I love Shaw more than anything—more than my life.”

  A shiver of fear ran through Shirley, which she worked hard to disguise. It took her a moment to realize that Tanni’s words had simply been a way to communicate the depth of her feelings for Shaw.

  “He says he’ll e-mail or phone me every day.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  “I know, but I wonder how long it’ll last.”

  So did Shirley, although it would’ve been foolish to admit that. “He’ll be back for visits.”

  “Not often enough,” Tanni complained. “Everything’s going to change and I don’t want it to.”

  Tanni sounded like she had as a little girl, needing her mother’s comfort.

  “Would you like a hug?” Shirley chanced asking.

  Her daughter glared as though the offer had offended her.

  “A hug wouldn’t hurt,” Shirley added.

  Tanni shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  Shirley put down her knitting, then stood and walked over to her daughter. She couldn’t remember the last time Tanni had permitted her to show any affection. An involuntary sighed escaped as she slid her arms around her daughter.

  To her shock and delight, Tanni hugged her back.

  “You’re going to do just fine,” Shirley said. “And so is Shaw.”

  Tanni leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder. “I hope he does.”

  “I know you do.”

  “But I’m afraid,” Tanni whispered. “What if he’s so successful he doesn’t want anything to do with me?”

  Shirley wasn’t sure how to reassure Tanni. She couldn’t promise that wouldn’t happen and some part of her actually hoped it would.

  Tanni broke away and straightened.

  Shirley returned to her knitting; Tanni stayed in the room. After a couple of minutes, Tanni said, “The school passed around a notice from Grace Harding, the woman who runs the library.”

  “A notice for what?”

  “The library’s looking for volunteers to work with kids and dogs,” Tanni told her.

  “Dogs in the library?”

  “That’s what it said. Ms. Harding is bringing in dogs from the animal shelter and letting children with reading problems read to them. A lot of kids at school say it’s silly, but I think it’s a great idea.”

  “Why would the library need volunteers? Don’t they already have quite a few?”

  “I’m not sure, but this is something I’d like to do.”

  “Okay. It sounds interesting.”

  “There’s a meeting next week and I want to go.”

  “I’ll be curious to hear more about it.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Tanni started to leave. Halfway across the room, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Then, in a casual tone, she said, “Thanks for listening, Mom.”

  Tears welled up in Shirley’s eyes. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

  A year after losing her husband, it almost felt as if she had her daughter back.

  Twenty-Six

  Saturday evening, after spending eight hours on her feet at the cash register, Christie was tired. Bone-deep tired. For months, day after day, it’d been nothing but work and school. She couldn’t even remember her last visit to The Pink Poodle.

  They’d had exams that week and Christie decided she deserved a small reward. She’d done all her assignments, studied hard and become proficient with both a camera and a calculator. One beer wouldn’t hurt, and it would be good to reconnect with her friends.

  She pulled into a parking space, and out of the corner of her eye saw a limo at the back of the lot.

  No. It couldn’t be. James? Had he come looking for her? Was he waiting there on the off chance she’d show up?

  Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d dropped by The Pink Poodle, but it would be the last! Climbing out of her car, she slammed the door and marched toward the parked limo.

  Rapping hard agains
t the dark windows, she didn’t immediately realize the vehicle was empty.

  She rubbed her knuckles. If James wasn’t in the limo, that probably meant he was in the bar. That was fine with her. She’d flirt with her friends and ignore him, a prospect that filled her with renewed energy.

  Walking into the tavern, Christie first spotted Kyle, a divorced plumber. Several other guys were there, too, mostly sitting at tables. A few of them were playing pool.

  “Hey, look who’s here.” Kyle lifted his beer mug in salute.

  “Christie!” Bill slid off his stool to give her a hug.

  Larry, who worked the bar, automatically got her a draft.

  It didn’t take her long to find James. He sat alone in a corner of the room. That wasn’t a beer he had, nor did it resemble a mixed drink. From the looks of it, he was sipping a soda.

  “Where’ve you been?” Kyle asked when Christie slipped onto the bar stool next to her old friend.

  “Oh, around.”

  “I heard you been taking college classes,” Larry commented, setting the frothy mug in front of her.

  “Yeah, I decided it was time to get serious about a career.”

  If James had noticed her, he didn’t give any sign.

  Bill sidled up next to her.

  “What’s with the guy in back?” she asked, pointing at James.

  “We call him the Professor,” Larry said and his voice fell to a whisper.

  “Does he come here often?”

  Kyle shrugged. “Once or twice a week.”

  “Been comin’ by every so often for the past couple months. Never says a word. All this time and none of us even know who he is.”

  “He’s James Wilbur,” she said automatically. She hadn’t meant to acknowledge him. Her problem, one of many, was her inability to keep her mouth shut.

  “You know him?”

  Rather than lie, she took her first sip of beer while she tried to come up with a reasonable response. “Not really. I thought I knew him at one time, but I was wrong.” She wasn’t sure how much sense that made—at least to them.