“A friend?” Ted sounded perplexed. “I was asking about the puppies.”
“Oh…the puppies.” She wanted to roll her eyes. Of course he’d be phoning about the puppies. “Five down and five to go, although I just heard from someone who’s a possibility. And if Bob Beldon takes one too, that’ll leave three.”
“Listen, I know someone else who could be interested. Gloria Ashton—for her parents,” he said. “Would it be all right if I stopped by later to say merry Christmas?”
“Sure. That would be nice.” Ted was exactly the balm she needed. And, if he came over, Kent would see that she hadn’t been twiddling her thumbs for the past three years.
She missed Kent. She missed their life together and it was killing her that he’d found someone else. The divorce wasn’t the end, she realized now; his remarriage would be. If he married Danielle—and the other woman had certainly staked her claim on him—it would mean their life together was over. Really over.
“Who just called?” Bailey asked.
“Bob Beldon. And then Teri Polgar. And Ted.”
“Bob from the B and B?” Kent looked up at her. “Did he want to speak to me?”
“No, no, he was inquiring about a puppy.”
“Oh, dear,” Danielle murmured and, for good measure, sneezed again.
Beth had assumed she would’ve taken one of her allergy pills by now.
“What did Ted want?” Sophie asked.
“He’ll be visiting later.”
Bailey and Sophie seemed gratified by this bit of news. “That’s wonderful,” Sophie said as Bailey nodded. “He’s a real sweetheart.”
“Oh?” Kent asked, turning to his daughters for an explanation.
“Yeah, he reminds me of the vet in those James Herriot books you read us when we were little,” Bailey told her father.
Ted? James Herriot? What were her girls up to? Beth sent Bailey a disapproving frown, which her daughter chose to ignore.
They resumed trimming the tree, and when they’d finished, it didn’t look half-bad. With its mismatched ornaments collected over the years, it had its own homespun charm. There was the wooden snowman Sophie had made at the age of ten. And a photo of Bailey in the first grade, framed in Popsicle sticks. Another that resembled a pincushion, which Sophie had made when she was in the third grade. Beth’s gingerbread men. And a few that she and the girls had constructed through the years with varying degrees of artistic skill.
They stepped back and, hardly aware she was doing it, Beth stood next to Kent. Delighted with their tree, she glanced up at him and smiled. He smiled back and their eyes met. Beth had to force herself to look away; when she did, she saw Danielle watching them both.
The other woman’s eyes narrowed, and Beth could tell that Danielle wasn’t pleased. Without making an issue of it, Beth moved away from Kent.
Searching for something to do, Beth picked up the empty cocoa mugs and carried them into the kitchen. She was busy placing them in the dishwasher when Danielle joined her.
“I know what you’re doing,” Danielle said without preamble. She rested her hip against the kitchen counter, crossed her arms and glared at Beth.
“Putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher?” Beth asked.
“You don’t like it that Kent brought me here.”
Beth straightened and leaned against the counter, too, crossing her own arms. “And what gives you that impression?”
“I saw the way you looked at him just now.”
“Really? And how was that?”
“You’re jealous.”
“Am I?” Beth asked, striving to sound anything but jealous.
“You want him back.”
Beth laughed. “In case you’ve forgotten, I had him for twenty-three years.”
“And you miss him.”
Beth faked a short laugh. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but let me assure you, you’re mistaken.”
“No, I’m not,” Danielle insisted.
Beth looked into the other room to make sure Kent and the girls couldn’t overhear this rather unpleasant conversation. “Well, then, let’s agree to disagree,” she suggested in a low voice, hoping to avoid a pointless exchange.
“You want him.”
Beth disregarded the comment, turned her back on Danielle and continued loading the dishwasher.
“You can deny you’re jealous all you want, but if you listen to only one thing, listen to this,” Danielle said tightly. “He told me about the divorce and how you wanted out of the marriage. You blew it and now you regret it.”
This was too much. If Danielle thought she was helping… Well, she wasn’t. “Listen,” Beth said, pronouncing each word distinctly. “If you want Kent, he’s all yours. You’re welcome to him.” With that she slammed the dishwasher closed and turned to see Kent standing in the doorway.
Eight
The scent of cinnamon and allspice filled Peggy Beldon’s kitchen as she arranged the decorated sugar cookies on colorful plates lining the counter.
The plates of cookies, toffee and hand-rolled chocolates were her and Bob’s gift to their friends each year. Peggy enjoyed baking and never more than at Christmas. She began wrapping the plates in red cellophane and tying the ends with a ribbon. She and Bob delivered the plates on Christmas Eve, usually late in the afternoon.
Thyme and Tide, their bed-and-breakfast, did fairly well this time of year and she was grateful that despite a weak economy they continued to be busy. They already had several reservations for the winter months and the summer looked promising.
Currently they had two guests, who seemed to be a couple, although they had their own rooms. Beth Morehouse’s ex and…Diana? No, Danielle. It wasn’t unusual to have guests over the Christmas holidays, although Peggy would’ve preferred to close, but as Bob said, they couldn’t turn down business. Christmas or not, they had rooms to rent. She could guarantee that the Christmas morning buffet would be something Kent Morehouse and his friend would long remember.
Humming a Christmas carol to herself, Peggy glanced out the kitchen window and saw her husband pull into the driveway. He’d run a few errands for her. A couple of minutes later, she glanced outside again, wondering why he hadn’t come in.
Just then the door opened. Bob knocked the snow off his boots as he entered the house, a big grin on his face. By nature her husband was an upbeat, happy person, always sociable, which was one reason their B and B was successful. Peggy tended to remain in the background, creating the meals, while Bob provided the warm welcome and the entertainment.
“What took so long?” she asked, pausing to kiss him and take the bags out of his hands.
“You should see the grocery store. There wasn’t a cart to be had.”
“Christmas Eve…what did you expect?”
“Everyone seems to leave the shopping until the last minute—even my wife.” He kissed her cheek but not before Peggy saw him swipe a cookie.
Bob reached for a date bar and she returned his sheepish smile with an approving grin. She had plenty to spare and, after his trek to the store, Bob deserved a reward.
“Do you have one for Roy and Corrie?” Bob asked, surveying the kitchen counter and the row of finished plates.
“Of course.”
“Troy and Faith Davis?”
“Bob, you know I do. What makes you ask?”
“Just wanted to be sure. I saw Faith shopping and Corrie was coming into the store as I was
leaving.” Bob poured himself a cup of coffee and sat on the kitchen stool, watching as Peggy put the final touches on the gifts, adding small handmade cards. These cards were another gift. Each included a personal note thanking the recipients for their friendship.
“I’m so thankful to Roy,” she said fervently. “Who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been willing to take us on as clients.” The private investigator had stepped in at a crucial time in their lives.
“Troy Davis, too,” Bob reminded her.
“Oh, yes.”
The memory of those painful days took over her thoughts for a moment. A stranger had arrived late one night in the middle of a storm, rain-drenched and seeking a room. Bob hadn’t recognized the man but had sensed…something. He’d had a bad feeling about him. Peggy, however, couldn’t turn someone away in the middle of a downpour. In retrospect, she wished she’d listened to her husband, because the next morning the man was dead.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Bob said, sipping his coffee.
“So now you’re a mind reader, too?” she asked with a smile. Her husband did possess multiple talents—including acting and singing—but she had serious doubts regarding his psychic abilities.
“After all these years I can read you like a People magazine,” he joked right back. “It’s about Max Russell, isn’t it?”
She could pretend otherwise but didn’t. “Yes. I was remembering the night he showed up and how you didn’t want to give him a room.”
“That night was a turning point for me,” Bob admitted. “The start of healing. I was finally able to lay what happened in ’Nam to rest.”
Bob and his best friend from high school, Dan Sherman—who’d married Grace—had enlisted in the army together under the buddy program. Following basic training they’d been sent to Vietnam. Max had been part of their unit.
The war changed all three men. An incident involving the deaths of innocent civilians had haunted them.
For years Dan Sherman had struggled with depression. When he was in that state of mind, he’d block out family and friends, isolating himself from the world.
After the war Bob had turned to alcohol for solace. Their marriage suffered, and more than once Peggy decided to leave him, taking their son and daughter. Each time Bob convinced her he’d give up drinking and be the husband she deserved. He’d tried, but with limited success. After a few weeks of sobriety Bob would return to the bottle. He hit bottom after losing a promising job, and that was when he went into rehab. Thankfully, he came out a different person. He hadn’t had a drink since that day more than twenty years ago. Or was it twenty-five? She no longer kept count of the years. Each day was a victory, each day a blessing.
“I mailed Hannah a Christmas card,” Peggy confessed. Even now, knowing what she did about the young woman, Peggy had a soft spot for her despite the grief she’d caused them both.
Hannah was the dead man’s daughter and, in fact, had been responsible for his murder.
“Did she write back?”
“No.” Peggy knew it was highly unlikely that Hannah would acknowledge the card. That was fine. Perhaps it was for the best.
“You really came to care for her, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but…” Peggy had mixed feelings about the woman. Hannah had attempted to steer blame for the murder toward Bob, and that was unforgivable in Peggy’s eyes. Still, the poor girl had lived a hard life with a father tortured by the past. Max took his self-hatred out on Hannah and her mother. Hannah’s mind became as twisted as her father’s, and as far as she was concerned, he deserved to die.
She’d tried to kill him once before and, to Hannah’s horror, her beloved mother had died instead. Her father had survived the car accident, which made Hannah’s hatred of him even greater. She had deeply loved her mother and to lose her when she’d so carefully planned to kill Max had nearly destroyed her. Hannah redoubled her efforts to make her father pay.
Again Bob’s instincts had been on target. From the first he hadn’t trusted Max’s daughter, who’d shown up at their home after her father’s death. Although he wasn’t able to identify exactly what he disliked about Hannah, he’d made his feelings clear. Hannah had avoided him as much as possible. It wasn’t until much later that they understood why.
“I’ll be forever grateful those days are gone,” Bob murmured, still sipping his coffee.
“Me, too,” Peggy agreed. “You’re free now. The past is over and the future is bright.”
“I’m a lucky man,” Bob said.
Nevertheless, those memories were all too vivid, all too real.
“Hey, why so melancholy?” Bob said, tipping up her chin with his index finger. “We have a lot to celebrate. Hollie and Marc will be here this afternoon and we’ll have a real family Christmas.”
Peggy instantly brightened. Their children were coming for the holidays and spending a few days. To have both of them there was a rare treat. Their family had healed in the past few years.
Hollie and Marc had grown up in the volatile atmosphere created by their father’s problems with alcohol. As much as possible, Peggy had shielded them. It’d taken her years of Al Anon meetings to straighten out her own thinking. Without realizing what she was doing, Peggy had enabled Bob in his drinking. Once she’d stepped aside and allowed him to deal with the consequences of his actions, he was forced to admit that he had a problem.
Those years of struggle had taken a heavy toll. It was only since the move to Cedar Cove that Hollie and Marc were willing to have a relationship with their father. Both were professionals, married but without children. Peggy envied her friends their grandchildren but, so far, her own kids had shown no interest in starting families. Peggy had accepted the situation and was content to lavish affection on her friends’ grandchildren, especially those of her best friend, Corrie McAfee.
“We’d better head out with those gift plates soon, don’t you think?” Peggy said. She wanted to be home when the children arrived with their spouses.
“Anytime now.”
“Everything’s just about ready,” she said, and finished the last of the gift cards with a flourish.
Bob put his cup in the sink and walked into the large family room, where they’d set up the Christmas tree. “I have an early present for you.”
“Oh?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
He looked pleased with himself. “Actually, your gift’s in the garage.”
“Bob,” Peggy breathed. They’d discussed buying her a new vehicle, but she’d assumed she’d be making the choice. “You bought me a car?”
Bob laughed. “Sorry. That’s a natural assumption but no, it isn’t a car. I hope you aren’t disappointed.”
“Of course not, but I am somewhat curious as to why this can’t wait until morning.”
“Well… This is the type of gift we’d generally talk about in advance.”
She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. “Give me a clue.”
“Remember the other day when we were at the library?”
“Of course…but what’s that got to do with anything?” Peggy couldn’t recall anything special taking place. They’d dropped off books and picked up others. Both were big readers and loyal library patrons.
“Remember the children reading to the dogs?”
“Well, yes, Grace told me about the program. It seems to be doing well.”
“Largely thanks to Beth Morehouse, the woman who owns the Chri
stmas tree farm.”
“Where we bought our tree,” she said, certain Bob would clarify everything in a moment. Her husband had a flair for drama, which was one reason he volunteered at the local theater. Over the years Bob had appeared in a number of productions, everything from musicals to Death of a Salesman. It was his creative outlet the same way gardening and cooking were hers.
“I’m sure there’s a point to all this,” she said, urging him to explain.
“There is.”
“Wonderful. Might I suggest you get back to my Christmas gift that’s currently being stored in the garage?”
“You’ll see.”
“I’m waiting with bated breath,” she returned, smiling.
“Stay here.”
“Okay,” Peggy said. “Do you want me to close my eyes?”
Bob paused at the back door and nodded. “Good idea. Close your eyes.”
Peggy sat at the kitchen table with one hand on her coffee mug and the other in her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. She wondered if her gift was what had kept Bob in the garage so long after he’d driven home. After a couple of minutes she heard him come in.
“Can I open my eyes yet?”
“Just a second.”
Her husband’s footsteps echoed as he moved toward the Christmas tree. “All right,” he called out. “You can open your eyes now.”
Peggy did, and then blinked. Beneath the tree, surrounded by wrapped gifts, sat a basket, one she kept in the garage and often took into the garden. Bedded down inside was…a puppy. A small black puppy.
Peggy didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. “You got me a puppy?”
“I was thinking we could use a dog,” Bob said.
“But a puppy?” she said, unsure of her feelings.
“Look at her, Peggy, she’s so cute. I couldn’t resist. We need a dog, and Beth Morehouse has a litter of ten she needs to find homes for.”
“So that was the connection with Beth and the library. You volunteered,” she said. “Obviously.”