“Is this your first baby?” Rachel asked conversationally.
Cecilia hesitated. The question always stopped her cold. And it was always accompanied by pain as she faced the memory of losing Allison. “No,” she whispered, trying to speak normally. “Our daughter died shortly after she was born.”
“I’m so sorry.” Rachel placed a comforting hand on Cecilia’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
Not wanting the other woman to think she’d taken offense, Cecilia offered her a reassuring smile. “You didn’t know. It’s a question I get asked often enough. You’d think I’d have a standard response by now. I should.” Except Cecilia didn’t know what that response should be. “It’d be easier to tell everyone this is our first baby, I suppose,” she said, thinking out loud, “but I can’t make myself do it. Allison was part of me and Ian, and I refuse to pretend she never lived.”
“You said exactly the right thing,” Rachel told her. She busied herself by turning on the water and leaning Cecilia back so that her neck rested in the curve of the shampoo bowl.
Rachel worked the shampoo into Cecilia’s wet hair with strong fingers, massaging her scalp. Her touch relaxed Cecilia as she lathered her hair, rinsed and then repeated the process.
By the time Rachel had washed out the cream rinse and placed a towel over her head, Cecilia had started to consider having her hair cut much shorter than she’d been wearing it. Over the years she’d had it styled a number of ways. Ian, however, preferred her hair shoulder-length, so that was how she kept it. Maybe she could have two inches cut off—make the change in increments.
“You have wonderful hair,” Rachel commented as she guided Cecilia back to her station.
“It must be the vitamins,” Cecilia said lightly. “The only times I’ve had hair and fingernails like this are when I’m pregnant.”
Rachel directed Cecilia into the chair. She combed out and sectioned her hair, twisting each section and securing it with a clip. “Do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”
“Boy,” Cecilia said, smiling at the thought of her husband’s happiness when she’d told him what she’d learned. “The first ultrasound said a girl, but in the most recent one, the baby looked very much like a little boy. I know Ian will be thrilled with either—I will, too.” She rested her hand on her stomach, already loving this baby so much. She wanted the pregnancy to be perfect, her child to be healthy, and was doing everything she could to ensure that.
They chatted while Rachel expertly cut her hair, going a little shorter than Cecilia had originally requested. Her hair would just touch her shoulders. “Since you’re a first-time customer, can you tell me who referred you?” she asked, clipping away. “I like to thank the person who gave me the referral.”
“That might be difficult. My husband’s the one who suggested I make an appointment with you.”
“Really?” Rachel paused as if trying to recall which of her male customers was married to Cecilia.
“Apparently, my husband is a friend of a friend of yours,” Cecilia clarified. “I understand Ian and—I think Ian said his name’s Nate—are on the George Washington together.”
Excitement lit Rachel’s eyes. “Your husband’s in the Navy?”
Cecilia nodded.
“Did he have any news about Nate?” There was no disguising Rachel’s exhilaration now. “We write to each other, but the letters take so long, and I haven’t heard from him in over a week. Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes…. The last I heard, everything was going well.”
“Oh, good.” Rachel smiled in obvious relief. “I’ve only known Nate for a few months,” she said.
“She paid good money for him, too.” This comment came from the dark-haired, slightly overweight woman in the station next to Rachel’s.
“Teri,” Rachel said, scowling at her friend.
“You…paid for him?” Cecilia asked, intrigued.
“In a manner of speaking, yes…”
She was about to continue when Teri cut her off. “She bought him at the Dog and Bachelor Auction in July.” Having said that, the other beautician turned back to her customer.
“Rach was the only one of us who plunked down her hard-earned cash for a man,” the beautician across from Rachel said. “The guys were out of my price league.”
“Mine, too,” Teri added.
“For that matter, he was out of mine,” Rachel told her.
“Then why did you bid on him?” Cecilia asked curiously. She remembered reading an article about the auction in The Cedar Cove Chronicle. The piece had stated that the Dog and Bachelor Auction was by far the most successful fund-raising activity ever put on by the Animal Shelter. Cecilia thought it was certainly innovative.
“I can’t say exactly what appealed to me about Nate,” Rachel confessed. “He was one of the last bachelors available and not a single one of us girls had bought one yet.” She paused. “Although a girlfriend of mine did get a dog.”
“We all had high hopes for this event,” Teri said. “We went thinking this might be a good way to meet men.”
“And we wanted to support the shelter,” another girl chimed in. “We’re all big animal-lovers here.”
“It seems to be working out for Rach,” a young woman with spiked hair said.
“I don’t mind admitting it was the best money I’ve spent in ages,” Rachel agreed.
“Yeah?” Teri placed one hand on her hip. “Then why are you still dating Bruce Payton?”
“We aren’t dating,” Rachel insisted, lowering her voice. “We really aren’t,” she told Cecilia. “Bruce is a widower and we sort of keep each other company now and then.”
“Jolene wants you to be her mom.” Teri said this in a singsong voice as if she were forecasting trouble.
Rachel exhaled slowly. “I know, and that’s a problem.”
Confused, Cecilia glanced from one woman to the other. “Jolene is Bruce’s daughter?”
“Yes.” Rachel nodded. “She misses her mother. I try to do girl things with her. Bruce appreciates that, and Jolene and I have gotten to be close in the last couple of years.”
“But you’re interested in Nate?” Cecilia wanted to be clear on that.
“Very much.” Rachel didn’t bother to disguise her feelings for him.
“I gather he feels the same way about you,” Cecilia was happy to report. “Like I said, my husband suggested I get in touch with you.”
“That’s great.” Happiness radiated from her eyes.
“Um…does Nate know you’re seeing Bruce?”
“Yes—no, but Bruce and I aren’t actually seeing each other in the dating sense. We just do things together, mainly for the company. And for Jolene. There’s nothing romantic between us.” She hesitated for a moment. “At least on my end.”
“And Bruce?”
“I can’t speak for him, but…sometimes I think he’d like the relationship to be more than it is. Please understand, I don’t encourage him,” Rachel said, looking a bit uncomfortable to be saying even this much. “I haven’t said anything to Nate about Bruce, because—well, because it just isn’t important enough to mention.”
Cecilia understood perfectly. She believed in honesty between husband and wife, but there were some things best left unsaid. Some things that were just too hard to explain. Especially when communication was limited.
“I felt terrible when I missed a phone call from Nate. I was with Jolene and had my cell turned off. We must’ve been in the movie theater and then I got a message that he’d called. I was sick about that. Apparently he only got one chance and he wasted his.” Rachel’s disappointment echoed in each word.
“Ian said you don’t have a computer.”
“I don’t,” Rachel said. “In fact, I’m a real dunce when it comes to anything technological.”
“I’d be willing to help you learn,” Cecilia offered. “Ian asked me to get you up and running. The request is actually from Nate because he wants to ta
lk to you on-line. Once you’re familiar with how it works, you can use one of the computers at the library. That’s what Ian and I did until we could afford our own. You’d be surprised how easy it is.”
Rachel beamed. “Thank you—I really appreciate this. By the way…did your husband mention that I’m a few years older than Nate?”
“No, but it didn’t sound as if Nate cared.”
“No, I guess he doesn’t. I think about it sometimes and then I remember—”
“What she remembers,” Teri inserted, “is that Nate is one hell of a kisser.”
Cecilia watched as Rachel’s face grew pink. “This is the problem when you work with a group of women,” she muttered, glaring across her station at Teri. “They don’t know the meaning of the word discretion.”
Teri laughed outright. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rachel blush before—except when she told us about the night she and Nate sat on the beach until the wee hours of the morning.”
“Nate was leaving that day,” Rachel added for Cecilia’s benefit.
Cecilia understood the need to be close for as long as possible. It happened with her and Ian every time he was due to ship out.
“There are a few of us Navy wives who have a small support group. You’d be welcome to stop by the next evening we meet.”
“I would, but I’m not a Navy wife.”
“But you could be,” Teri said.
“We’d love to have you,” Cecilia assured Rachel. “I’ll let you know when we’re planning to get together. Why don’t you come to my apartment first so I can show you how to send Nate an e-mail.”
“Thank you,” Rachel whispered. “I’m thrilled about this.”
Cecilia felt good about it herself. Not only that, her hair looked beautiful—smooth and glossy—and when she went to pay, Rachel told her it was on the house.
Sixteen
Grace didn’t expect anything to come of this Thanksgiving dinner at Cliff’s. When he’d joined her and Maryellen at the Chinese restaurant, he’d seemed genuine about wanting another chance, but she couldn’t allow herself to believe there was hope for them. Couldn’t risk another bout of disappointment. It was with this thought in mind that she drove to meet her daughter’s family on Thanksgiving morning. They would all arrive at Cliff’s house together.
Maryellen was certainly in high spirits, Grace noted as her daughter let her in. She loved Maryellen and Jon’s home, which was built in a Northwest style and only a few miles from Cliff’s property. With each visit, she marveled at Jon’s ingenuity and skill. While he developed his artistic career, handling the management aspect as well as the photography itself, he also worked on his house and its grounds. Each and every day Grace was grateful her daughter had met Jon Bowman—and that she’d married him.
Katie took one look at her grandma and gleefully waddled toward her, small arms held wide.
Without hesitation, Grace squatted down and scooped her up, to cries of delight. “How’s my Katie-girl?” she asked, nuzzling the toddler’s face.
Katie squealed and hugged her back, both arms locked around Grace’s neck.
“We’re ready, Mom,” Maryellen said. She opened the refrigerator and took out a molded salad. It was a recipe that had been in the family for years, made from lime gelatin, cream cheese and melted marshmallows. Grace had always associated it with Thanksgiving dinner and apparently so did her daughter.
“I made salad,” Maryellen said unnecessarily. “And Jon baked an apple pie.”
“I baked a pumpkin pie,” Grace told her.
Maryellen laughed. “Cliff said we didn’t have to bring a thing. It seems we decided he needed a little help, after all.”
“I can’t believe he’s willing to prepare an entire turkey dinner by himself,” Grace said, impressed that Cliff was taking this on. As far as she knew, he usually settled for sandwiches, canned soup or a simple grilled steak.
“Mother, you don’t honestly think Cliff is going to cook, do you?” Maryellen looked at her incredulously.
“That’s what he said. Didn’t he?”
“With all these restaurants and grocery stores offering to provide an entire meal for a reasonable price?” As if she’d suddenly remembered something, she turned to her mother. “What are Olivia and Jack doing for Thanksgiving?”
Grace smiled. “How did we get from store-bought turkey dinners to the subject of Olivia?”
“By way of Justine, of course.”
Ah yes, it made sense now. Restaurants provided turkey dinners, and Justine and Seth owned The Lighthouse restaurant.
“Olivia and Jack went to Reno to be with Eric, Shelley and the twins,” Grace explained, referring to Jack’s son from his first marriage. According to Olivia, everyone was excited about the trip. They’d flown out on Wednesday evening—the night of the aerobics class Olivia and Grace usually attended. It was the first one Olivia had missed in months. Grace felt guilty for not going, but without the motivation of meeting her best friend, she’d ended up staying home. If not for Olivia, Grace would have given up on the class years ago. Her knees often hurt afterward and any benefit she gained from repeatedly leaping up and down was wiped out by the pie and coffee they had after class.
“Oh, yes, I seem to remember that you mentioned Olivia had plans,” Maryellen said absently as Jon loaded the car. When everything was inside, including the portable high chair, he placed a bundled-up Katie in her car seat.
Grace sat in the back next to her granddaughter. Katie was a sweet child, with huge expressive eyes. She was talking now, gibberish mostly, but she seemed to enjoy carrying on long, one-sided conversations.
Grace couldn’t help feeling bad that Jon’s stepmother was missing out on all the stages of Katie’s development. Grace knew it saddened Maryellen, but Jon had been unwilling to compromise in his attitude toward his parents—even when he’d learned of his father’s stroke.
Katie was the Bowmans’ only grandchild, and they’d never even seen her, except in the photographs Maryellen had surreptitiously sent. It broke Grace’s heart.
Cliff was standing in the open doorway when Jon pulled into the yard. A light rain had just begun, and he hurried out to the car to usher Grace into the house, returning to carry in some of Katie’s paraphernalia.
Despite Maryellen’s predictions, Grace expected to be greeted by the wonderful aroma of turkey and sage; she wasn’t so much disappointed as amused when there was no such smell. A fire crackled in the fireplace and the house was warm and inviting, but Cliff was quite clearly taking advantage of a precooked Thanksgiving dinner.
While Maryellen and Jon got Katie out of her jacket and settled with some blocks and a teddy bear, Grace found Cal in the kitchen. He stood by the counter making a pot of coffee. He smiled when he saw Grace. “Happppp-y Thanks…Turkey Day,” he managed.
“You, too, Cal.” Grace admired the young man and liked him. “Speaking of turkey and turkey day,” she said, glancing around. “It doesn’t look—or smell—like there’s much cooking going on around here.”
Cliff stepped into the room behind her. “Guilty as charged. Cal and I opted for culinary assistance.”
“The Lighthouse?” Jon asked, joining them.
Cliff nodded. “They’re providing a full meal—and they’re going to deliver it, ready to go.” He checked his watch. “Anytime,” he added.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the doorbell rang. Cal went to answer it, and both Seth and Justine walked in, carrying their dinner. Seth held the aluminum foil roasting pan with the turkey and Justine had two large bags. They set their bounty on the kitchen counter.
“Need help?” Cal asked.
“There’s more in the car,” Justine said, throwing off the hood of her rainproof jacket.
“Let-t-t me.” Cal disappeared to collect the remaining food.
Justine slipped her arm around her husband’s waist. Seth was a big fisherman with a robust physique and hair so blond it was almost white. A few y
ears ago, when the local fishing industry fell on troubled times, he’d taken his savings and Justine’s business sense and built The Lighthouse restaurant.
“This is our last stop,” Justine explained. “Seth and I decided to make this delivery ourselves so we could wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Where are you off to next?” Maryellen asked. “There’s enough here to feed an army. We’d love it if you joined us,” she suggested, looking to Cliff for confirmation.
“We certainly would,” Cliff said.
“Seth’s family is waiting for us,” Justine told them. “But thanks for the invite.” She smiled as Cal came in with another two bags. “And thanks, Cal, for getting those.”
Within minutes they were out the door and on their way.
Cliff and Cal set the table while Grace and Maryellen arranged the feast on platters and in serving bowls. Christmas music played softly in the background, coming from a Seattle radio station. The mood was festive and joyful as they gathered around the table.
Grace sat beside Cliff and across from Cal. When they all bowed their heads to say grace, Cliff reached for her hand as he whispered a simple heartfelt prayer. The sincerity of his words touched her. She had much to be thankful for. Three years ago, on her first Thanksgiving without Dan, she’d battled depression and loneliness as she and Maryellen struggled to make the best of a painful situation. Now her daughter was married, with a family of her own. And Grace had grown in ways she’d never expected. After a difficult time, she’d been able to accept Dan’s death, to find a measure of peace with it. She’d begun to reinvent her life—and Cliff had been part of that process.
There was a lot of joking and laughter as they served themselves, passing bowls and platters around the table. It felt, Grace thought, as if they were all part of the same family.
“I think we should each give thanks for one thing,” Maryellen suggested. “Let’s take a minute to do that.” She cast her eyes down at the pristine linen tablecloth. “I know I’m grateful for so much.”
“I am, too,” Cliff said. He took Grace’s hand again and smiled at her. “I’m most thankful that Grace is with me today. I’m hoping we can spend more time together in the weeks and months to come.”