44 Cranberry Point

  Still feeling out of sorts, Grace returned to the house. Buttercup, ever faithful, was waiting for her when Grace unlocked the door. She turned on the lights and found Sherlock curled up nose to tail, sleeping on her sofa.

  “Hello to you, too,” she chided as she brought her exercise gear to the laundry room.

  The blinking light on her answering machine caught her attention, and she grabbed a pen and paper, then pushed the play button. At the sound of Cliff’s voice, a huge smile broke across her face. She hadn’t heard the whole message before she punched out his number.

  Cliff answered on the second ring. His hello was gruff, which was typical.

  “Hi,” Grace said. “I wondered if I’d hear from you.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I know. Me too. How are you?”

  “Okay. You?”

  “Better now that I’ve heard from you.” Even over the phone line, Grace felt his smile.

  “Lisa called this afternoon. She wanted an update on what’s happening between us.”

  “What did you tell her?” Grace carried the phone into the living room, sat on the sofa and moved Sherlock into her lap. The cat didn’t like being disturbed, but settled down quickly enough.

  “The truth.”

  “Which is?” Grace asked, stroking glossy black fur.

  “That I can’t seem to stop loving you, despite my best efforts.”

  Grace felt tears prick her eyes. “I can’t seem to stop loving you, either.”

  Cliff exhaled softly. “I know it’s a little early, but I was hoping you could join me for Thanksgiving again this year.”

  “Are you flying out to be with Lisa and her family?”

  “No. Since I spent time with her this summer I’ll probably just stay here.”

  “Alone?”

  He sighed. “Not if I can help it.”

  “Would you like to have dinner with me and the girls?” Grace didn’t know yet what her daughters’ plans were, but it would be easy enough to find out.

  “Can I invite Cal, too?”

  “Of course.” Grace remembered that Cal was one of the bachelors who’d been on the auction block. “Speaking of Cal, has he gone out with Linnette McAfee yet?”

  “Nope. I don’t think she’s too thrilled with her mother setting this up,” Cliff said wryly. “And Cal’s blaming me, since I encouraged him to participate.”

  “Is Linnette already living in Cedar Cove?” Grace had been too busy to keep up with the latest regarding the clinic. She knew Linnette had accepted the job of physician’s assistant. The lot had been cleared and the structure was going up so fast, it was hard to believe that just a few weeks earlier there’d been absolutely nothing in that location.

  “Not yet. I gather she’ll be moving here next month to help set things up. According to Charlotte, the clinic should be in full operation by the first of the year.”

  “That’s great. And I guess it means Cal will have his date soon.”

  “Seems that way,” Cliff said. “Frankly I think it’ll do him good.”

  “I think so, too.”

  “Will I see you before Thanksgiving?” she asked.

  “Probably.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Do you want to come out here Friday afternoon after work?”

  “I think that can be arranged,” Grace said.

  They spoke for a few more minutes and by the time Grace hung up, she felt more hopeful than she had in days.

  Buttercup walked over to the sofa to receive her share of attention. Sherlock, still reclining on Grace’s lap, lazily opened one eye but didn’t object to Buttercup’s presence. Grace stroked her dog’s head, smiling. She’d worked hard to regain Cliff’s trust and was determined never to give him reason to doubt her again. This was one lesson she’d learned and learned well.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Corrie McAfee looked up from the playing cards in her hand and sighed as she tried to remember which suit went with which. Giving up, she stared helplessly across the table at Peggy, sending her a silent plea.

  The two couples had spent a delightful evening together and after dinner had decided to play pinochle. Corrie hadn’t played in years, so her skills were weak, and unfortunately Roy took such games far too seriously. Peggy had been more than willing to be her partner, although Corrie could tell her friend’s mind wasn’t on the game. For that matter, neither was hers.

  “What’s your bid?” Roy helped himself to a pretzel as he studied his own hand. Her husband and Bob Beldon had walked away with the first three games and gloried in their triumph a little too much.

  “You guys have already won three in a row,” Corrie said. “I think Peggy and I could use a break.”

  “Ah, it’s just getting good,” Bob protested.

  “I’ll make some popcorn,” Corrie said, hoping the two men would be willing to put the game aside for that long.

  “All right, all right,” Roy muttered, not concealing his disappointment. He could be so competitive sometimes.

  Peggy followed Corrie into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as Corrie set up the hot-air popcorn popper. She took a stick of butter from the fridge and cut a generous cube to melt in the microwave. “I can’t bear to eat popcorn without real butter,” she explained. With the machine making its usual racket, Corrie joined her friend at the counter.

  “I still can’t believe it…” Peggy let the words fade.

  “You’re in shock about Hannah, aren’t you?”

  Peggy nodded. “Not for even a second did I suspect she was capable of murder.”

  “Have you been to see her at the jail?”

  Peggy shook her head. “She’s refused all visitors, including me.”

  That must be hurtful to Peggy, Corrie thought as she dumped the popcorn in a large bowl and poured on the melted butter.

  “I talked to Troy Davis earlier in the week and he told me Hannah’s decided to take a plea bargain. Once all the legalities have been dealt with, she’ll be transferred to the women’s prison in Purdy.”

  “I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Corrie said sympathetically. Peggy had grown close to Hannah over the last few weeks. The horror of learning that the young woman was responsible for her parents’ deaths had, needless to say, distressed her. At this stage, Peggy couldn’t influence the girl’s situation at all. The authorities in California had been notified and were in the process of arresting the friend who’d tampered with her father’s car and bought her the drug. Extradition papers would be filed against Hannah soon. Unless a deal could be made, she’d stand trial in her home state of California.

  “I’m so sorry,” Corrie whispered, touching her friend’s arm.

  “I know. I am, too. She’s ruined her entire life.” Peggy bowed her head for a moment, then looked up. “What I want to know is when Roy and the sheriff figured it out.”

  Not sure what to tell her, Corrie shrugged. “I can’t answer that. Although we work in the same office, my husband usually keeps his suspicions to himself. Half the time I don’t have a clue what’s going through that thick head of his. What I can tell you is that he and Troy discussed the case now and then and compared notes.”

  Peggy’s expression was pained, as if she was reliving the moment of Hannah’s arrest.

  “My guess is that Roy and the sheriff went over their ideas together and came to the same conclusion,” Corrie said.

  “Are you talking about me and my brilliant mind again?” Roy asked as he stepped into the kitchen, Bob directly behind him.

  “Obviously we’ve so outplayed you women that you’re ready to admit defeat,” Bob said smugly.

  “We could always put on a DVD,” Roy suggested, scooping up a handful of buttered popcorn. “Nothing goes better with popcorn than a movie.”

  Bob yawned. “I don’t know if we should. It’s getting to be the witching hour for me.”

  “Me, too,” Peggy said reluctantly. Sh
e turned to Corrie. “Dinner was wonderful. An evening out was just what Bob and I needed to get our minds off this mess.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Roy said. He slipped his arm around Corrie’s waist and they accompanied their friends to the front door. When Corrie had retrieved their jackets from the hall closet, Roy politely held Peggy’s for her.

  “Look,” Peggy said when they opened the door. “Someone left you a gift.”

  A beautifully arranged fruit basket stood on the porch. Filled with apples, oranges, bananas, grapes and a variety of nuts and chocolate, it was wrapped in silvery cellophane and decorated with a large plaid bow.

  “Who would send us something like this?” Corrie asked, surprised and pleased, but when she bent to reach for it, Roy stopped her.

  “A more important question is who’d drop it off without ringing our doorbell?” His arm restrained her from lifting the basket. “Leave it where it is,” he said, frowning.

  Corrie stared at her husband. “Do you think it’s the same person who mailed us those postcards?” she asked, her voice low.

  “I don’t know.”

  “It looks like there’s a card with the fruit,” Peggy said.

  Before Roy could object, Peggy pulled it from the basket. Corrie blinked, half-afraid something might explode in her friend’s face. She sighed with relief when nothing happened.

  “Maybe it’s an early Thanksgiving gift.” Peggy handed the card to Roy. “We’d better go.”

  Bob nodded and after another round of thank-yous and farewells, they headed toward their car.

  “Open it,” Corrie said even before the Beldons had pulled away from the curb.

  “In a minute,” Roy muttered. He stepped into the house and Corrie followed him. Roy examined the envelope. It was addressed to the McAfees at 50 Harbor Street, so the fruit had been delivered to the right house. Roy held the small envelope up to a light before he tore it open.

  Inside was a single piece of typed paper.

  “What does it say?” Corrie asked urgently. She didn’t want Roy hiding anything from her. It was only by chance that she’d learned about the postcards.

  Roy scanned the letter and gave it to her.

  I don’t mean you any ill will. I just want you to think about what you did. Don’t you have a single regret?

  Corrie quickly read the note and looked up at her husband with frightened eyes. “What does this mean?” she asked.

  Roy shook his head. “I have no idea. I guess we’ll have to wait for the next message.”

  He placed his arm around Corrie’s waist. He didn’t have the answer yet, but he would soon. He’d cleared too many cases not to succeed at solving this one.

  Whoever was doing this, it was personal. Sending the fruit basket to 50 Harbor Street had breached the sanctity of his home. But he’d find out who’d done this.

  His instincts still told him that he and Corrie weren’t in physical danger. But there were other dangers, less obvious ones, and Roy knew they could cause just as much harm.

  He wasn’t prepared to let anyone risk the haven he and Corrie had found in Cedar Cove.

  Welcome to Cedar Cove –

  a small town with a big heart!

  Local private detective Roy McAfee and his wife Corrie

  have been receiving anonymous postcards with messages

  asking if they “regret the past.” What does it mean?

  And it looks like the romance between Cliff at the

  horse farm and Grace Sherman is back on. Could

  a wedding be on the cards?

  www.mirabooks.co.uk

  Welcome to Cedar Cove –

  a small town with a big heart!

  Poor Justine and Seth! Their Lighthouse restaurant was

  burnt down and the prime suspect is an ex-employee

  who disappeared after the fire. This kind of crisis

  is not good for a marriage…

  In the meantime, Cal from the local ranch is now

  rescuing wild horses. But what could this mean

  for his new relationship with Linette?

  www.mirabooks.co.uk

  Watch for

  50 HARBOR STREET

  in March 2010!

  Discover what Roy eventually learns about the person who’s

  sending him and Corrie these “messages.” You’ll want to

  keep up with your other friends in Cedar Cove, too.

  How do things go for Grace and Cliff? What about

  Olivia and Jack? Will Cecilia’s baby be all right?

  And Rachel – will she choose Nate or Bruce?

  Read on for a look at the first chapter…

  One

  Corrie McAfee was worried. And she knew that her husband, Roy, was too.

  Who wouldn’t be? Starting in July, Roy—a private investigator—had received a series of anonymous postcards, and while the messages weren’t overtly threatening, they were certainly distressing.

  The first communication, which had been mailed to the office, spoke of regrets. During the intervening weeks, there’d been several others. Corrie had read each postcard so often she’d memorized them all. The first one stated: EVERYONE HAS REGRETS. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’VE DONE YOU WISH YOU COULD DO OVER? THINK ABOUT IT. There hadn’t been a signature then, or on any of the other cards. They’d arrived at infrequent intervals and been mailed from different locations. The cryptic messages kept playing in her mind. The passing of time hadn’t helped; she was as much in the dark now, in October, as when she’d seen that first postcard.

  There was a final gasping, gurgling sound as the coffee drained into the glass pot. The noise distracted Corrie from her worries for a moment—long enough to glance out the wide office window that overlooked downtown Cedar Cove, Washington. Serving as Roy’s secretary and assistant had its advantages, and in this instance, disadvantages. Sometimes ignorance truly was bliss; the current situation was definitely one of those cases. She’d sleep better if she’d never learned about the mysterious postcards.

  And yet…even if Roy had managed to keep them hidden from her, she would still have known—because the last message had been hand-delivered, at night, to their front door. Not to the office like the others, but to their home. Late one evening, someone had walked up the sidewalk and onto the porch of their house. As it happened, Roy and Corrie were entertaining dinner guests that night—and had opened the door to discover that an unknown person had left a fruit basket and an accompanying note. Chills raced up Corrie’s spine at the thought that this person knew their home address.

  “Is that coffee ready yet?” Roy called from inside his office. Apparently she hadn’t delivered it fast enough.

  “Hold your horses—it’s coming.” Corrie didn’t mean to snap at her husband. Normally she wasn’t shorttempered. This uncharacteristic outburst revealed how upset she was by everything that was happening to them. Sighing, she filled a clean mug for Roy and carried it, steam rising, into his office.

  “Okay, that does it,” she said, putting the coffee on the corner of his desk. “We have to talk.”

  As if he didn’t have a care in the world, Roy leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. They’d been married for twenty-seven years, and Corrie found him as attractive now as she had in college. Roy had played football for the University of Washington and been a “big man on campus,” as they used to say. He was tall and broad-shouldered, still muscular, his posture as straight as ever. He stayed in good shape without apparent effort, and Corrie envied, just a bit, the fact that he’d never gained any weight. His dark hair had thinned and was streaked with gray, which only added a look of dignity to his appearance.

  Of all the women he dated during college, he’d fallen in love with her. Theirs hadn’t been an easy courtship, though. They’d broken up for more than a year, and then reunited. Once they were back together, they realized how much they loved each other; there’d been no uncertainty about their feelings. They were married short
ly after graduation and their love had endured through trials and tribulations, through good years and bad. They’d had plenty of both.

  “Talk about what?” Roy asked casually.

  His nonchalance didn’t fool Corrie. Her husband knew exactly what was on her mind. “Does THE PAST HAS A WAY OF CATCHING UP WITH THE PRESENT tell you anything?” she murmured, sitting down in the chair normally reserved for clients. She wanted Roy to understand that she wouldn’t be put off easily. She was afraid he knew more about these postcards than he’d let on. It would be just like him to try to protect her.

  Roy frowned. “Those messages don’t have anything to do with you, so don’t worry about it.”

  His answer infuriated her. “How can you say that? Everything that happens to you affects me.”

  He seemed about to argue, but after all these years, he recognized that she wasn’t going to be satisfied with glib reassurances. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I’ve made enemies and, yes, I have regrets, but who doesn’t?”

  Roy had reached the rank of detective for the Seattle Police Department and been forced into early retirement because of a back injury. In the beginning, Corrie had been excited to have her husband at home. She’d hoped they’d be able to travel and do some of the things they’d always planned, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Roy had the time now, but their finances had been adversely affected when he’d had to take early retirement. Their income was less than it had been by at least twenty percent. In a money-saving effort, they’d moved from Seattle and across Puget Sound to the community of Cedar Cove. The cost of property was much more reasonable in Kitsap County, which also offered a slower pace of life. When the real estate agent showed them the house at 50 Harbor Street, with its wide front porch and sweeping view of the cove and lighthouse, Corrie knew immediately that this house and this town would become their home.

  © Debbie Macomber 2005

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.