311 Pelican Court

“Jon.” Despite her resolve not to be emotional, her voice trembled.

If he noticed her distress, he ignored it. “Is Katie ready?”

Maryellen swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. She held the door open for him. “I’ve packed everything you’ll need.” She reached for the diaper bag and pulled out a container of breast milk she’d pumped and several empty bottles. “She only takes about three ounces, sometimes four, at a time. You’ll probably have to get up twice during the night, and she isn’t all that accustomed to the bottle, so I don’t know how she’ll do.” She swallowed again, trying to hide her reservations. “You will hear her if she cries, won’t you?”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

That wasn’t the way Maryellen remembered it. On their one night together she’d managed to gather her clothes and sneak halfway down the stairs before he noticed she was gone.

“I put three extra outfits in her diaper bag in case she needs a change—and extra diapers, too.”

“All right.” He walked over to the bassinet, which she’d brought into the living room this morning. “Hey, I didn’t know they still had these.”

“It was mine,” Maryellen told him. “Mom saved it and then gave it to Kelly when she had Tyler. Kelly passed it along to me for Katie.”

Jon smiled down at his daughter; the infant seemed to smile back and started moving both arms. Jon placed his hand over her tiny stomach.

“She likes her yellow blanket best….” Maryellen said. “My mom knit it for her and I think she sleeps better with it.” She was rambling, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I’ll be sure the blanket is always with her.”

“You’ll need a car seat. State law demands that—”

“I already have one.”

Not once had his gaze wavered from their daughter, and Maryellen saw him make silly faces at her. The tenderness in his eyes made her want to weep.

“She tends to be fussy first thing in the morning,” she told him, and bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“She must get that from you,” Jon said, briefly glancing toward her. “As I recall, you’re not much of a morning person, either.”

Apparently he was reminding her of their night together. Maryellen immediately wanted to defend herself, but she was afraid that if she said one more word, she’d burst into tears. His having Katie had sounded like a reasonable solution a couple of months ago. Katie was Jon’s daughter, and it was his legal right to spend time with her. But Maryellen hadn’t realized when she’d agreed to this how bereft she’d feel. How lost and unsettled…

Jon carefully bent down and scooped his daughter into his arms. It was all Maryellen could do not to rush forward at the clumsy way he handled their baby. Sheer determination kept her where she was. Jon wouldn’t appreciate her intervention.

“I’ll take her out and put her in the car seat,” he said.

Rather than respond verbally, Maryellen nodded. She followed closely behind, carrying the diaper bag. While Jon fiddled with the car seat, she waited anxiously to be sure he had Katie properly secured.

“What time will you have her back?” she asked, although she already knew.

“Before five.”

Twenty-four hours.

Jon closed the back door.

“You’ll phone if you need anything?”

He walked around the vehicle, a brand-new sedan, and opened the driver’s side door. “Of course. I have your number next to the phone.”

“Okay…good.” Maryellen clung to the top of the door while he climbed inside and inserted the key in the ignition. The warning bell instantly started to chime. Reluctantly she stepped back and Jon pulled the door shut.

“Everything will be fine,” he assured her through the half-open window.

“I know…it’s just that we’ve never been apart before.”

Jon’s eyes went blank as he looked past her. “You’re the one who wanted it like this. I’m only going along with your wishes.”

Her wishes, she longed to remind him, had been to keep him entirely in the dark about their daughter. She hadn’t originally planned to involve him because she’d believed Jon wouldn’t want anything to do with their child. But she’d been wrong.

Tears blurred her vision. Normally Maryellen wasn’t a volatile or weepy person, but the pregnancy and birth had thrown her hormones off-kilter. At the slightest excuse—a television ad, watching her beautiful daughter sleep, even folding baby clothes—Maryellen would find herself on the verge of tears.

Jon was about to drive away from the curb when he glanced at her and stopped. “Are you all right?”

She nodded forcefully and hurriedly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ve been feeling emotional lately. That’s all.” Wrapping her arms protectively about her waist, she moved onto the sidewalk.

“New-mother blues,” he said knowledgeably. “I read about it in one of the books I checked out of the library. It’ll pass in a few weeks.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. Maryellen could read, too, but pointing that out just now seemed childish and petty. She didn’t want to say anything to irritate him, especially when he had their baby in his vehicle.

“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” he assured her.

“Okay,” she whispered. She could sleep in, Maryellen told herself. After a month of getting up at all hours of the night, sometimes two and three times, she should be grateful for a single night of uninterrupted rest. All this anxiety was a by-product of too many nights walking the floor and too little sleep. Not to mention those rampant hormones…

Once inside the house, Maryellen straightened the living room. She picked up the rattle, which was a gift from Jon; it had arrived in a huge basket of flowers he’d had delivered to the hospital. The burp rag draped over the end of the couch got tossed in the washing machine.

Tidying the bassinet, Maryellen sat up the large white teddy bear Jon had given Katie before she was born. The house was full of small gifts he’d brought either before or after the birth. Everywhere she looked there was evidence that he was determined to be part of Katie’s life. He was serious about it and she knew he wasn’t going to let his commitment slide, so she’d better get used to it now.

That night Maryellen slept miserably. She tossed and turned, certain that Katie needed her, certain Jon wouldn’t hear when she stirred in the middle of the night. A hundred regrets besieged her. She’d handed her daughter over to him without once checking to be sure he was adequately prepared to deal with an infant. Maryellen envisioned Katie crying in a wet diaper with an empty stomach while Jon slept, blissfully unaware that she needed attention.

By seven the next morning, Maryellen had worked herself into a near-frenzy. Three times she reached for the phone, but she was afraid she’d wake him, or worse, Katie. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she dressed hastily and drove to her mother’s house.

Fortunately Grace was up, having coffee at her kitchen table. She opened the back door for Maryellen, and Buttercup greeted her delightedly, tail wagging. Maryellen stepped into the kitchen, took one look at her mother and burst into tears.

“Maryellen! My goodness, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… Everything. Jon has Katie.”

Her mother poured her a cup of coffee. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”

Maryellen felt foolish and overemotional and everything she’d never wanted to be. This was so unlike her. “You have to get ready for work,” she said between sobs.

“Okay, I’ll get dressed, and while I do, you can talk to me.”

Dabbing her eyes, Maryellen followed her mother into the bedroom. She paused when she entered. “You painted in here.”

Grace nodded. “Do you like it?”

Maryellen shrugged. “I guess… I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the old color.”

“There wasn’t, but I had some things I needed to work out in my mind and painting helped.”

Caught up in her own world, Maryellen feared she’d failed her mother, that she hadn’t paid enough attention to the difficulties Grace was confronting. This summer had been traumatic for them both. “Anything I can do to help?” she asked as she sat on the end of her parents’ bed. Her mother pulled a blouse and jumper from her closet.

Grace shook her head. “No, but thanks. Besides, you didn’t come here at this hour to ask about me. Now, tell me what’s got you so upset.”

Maryellen wasn’t upset as much as she was worried. “Jon’s never had Katie before…. I’m afraid she’ll miss me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Her mother pulled a full-length black slip over her head. “Wait until eight-thirty or so and then give him a call,” she advised. “My guess is that Jon will be more than happy to hear from you.”

Maryellen hoped that was the case. She didn’t want him to think she was intruding on his time with Katie, but he had to understand how difficult this was for her.

“Come on,” Grace said as she finished dressing. “Let me put on my makeup and fuss a bit with my hair, and then I’ll buy you breakfast before I go to work.”

Maryellen declined with a shake of her head. “I can’t eat.”

“Yes, you can,” her mother insisted. “And you will. Now, come on, it isn’t every day I offer to treat you to breakfast. The Pancake Palace has an early bird special. All-you-caneat pancakes for a buck.”

Her mother was right, Maryellen realized. She needed a meal—and a distraction.

By the time she left the Pancake Palace, Maryellen felt worlds better, although they’d done more socializing with others than talking between themselves. The restaurant obviously did a thriving breakfast business. They’d run into Charlotte Jefferson and the members of the New Knee Club who met there once a month. Everyone at the long table had gone through knee-replacement surgery. Charlotte introduced them to her friend Ben Rhodes, a distinguished-looking older man. They appeared to have a relationship that was more than friendly, at least in Maryellen’s opinion. She couldn’t help wondering if there was a romance in the offing. It was kind of cute.

She got home after nine and headed directly for the phone, figuring Jon would be up with Katie by now. When there was no answer, she left a short message on his machine and dejectedly replaced the receiver.

At ten she called again. Still no answer. She couldn’t stand not knowing and drove to Jon’s home near Olalla. Her heart pounded frantically as she parked and climbed out of her car.

Even before she reached his front door, Jon had it open. Katie was in his arms, held firmly against his shoulder. She was astonished to see her daughter raising her head and peering around.

“Maryellen,” Jon said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

His home was almost complete now. On her last visit, the finish work had only been partially done. But today she saw that there was a carpet in the living area—a lovely Berber rug in soft greens and grays—and the oak woodwork around the windows overlooking Puget Sound was beautifully varnished. She could see Vashon Island in the distance, and the view of Mount Rainier, majestic and serene beyond the island, was stunning enough to make her heart skip.

Now that Maryellen was here it was obvious to her that Jon had managed just fine. “You…you didn’t answer the phone,” she stammered, “and…and I didn’t know what to think.”

“You called?”

“Twice.” She gave a quick shrug. “I was worried, but I can see that everything’s gone great.”

“I must’ve been in the shower,” he explained, “or on the balcony.”

He seemed so easy with Katie now. During his brief visits, he’d lifted her as if she were a bag of unwieldy potatoes, and now he was as natural with her as a…dad.

Maryellen’s anxiety had been for nothing. She felt embarrassed about rushing out to rescue her daughter. Jon had everything under control.

“Would you like to see Katie’s room?” he asked.

Maryellen nodded. Hindsight being what it was, she should’ve checked on all this before she handed over their daughter.

Jon led her up the open stairway. She loved the house and the fact that he’d done most of the construction work himself. There didn’t seem to be anything Jon Bowman couldn’t master.

His bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and the French doors leading to the balcony were open. She could imagine him sitting there at first light, holding Katie and talking to her about the panorama outside.

Maryellen glanced into the bedroom and caught sight of his unmade bed and the photograph of her, beautifully framed and positioned on the opposite wall. She’d first seen it on display in a gallery in Seattle, where the majority of his work was now sold. It had been taken on a foggy afternoon while she stood on the pier next to the marina; she’d had no idea he was there. Her back was to the camera and she’d raised her arm to toss popcorn to the seagulls. The photograph had an exciting, dynamic quality, and yet the misty air gave it a sense of whimsy, too.

Jon seemed a bit flustered that she’d noticed the photograph. “That’s one of my favorites,” he said. “Do you mind that I have it here?”

The odd thing was she didn’t. It gladdened her to see that he kept it in this room, although she didn’t dare analyze the reasons. “I don’t mind,” she said.

“Good.” With that, he took her down the hallway to Katie’s room.

Maryellen swallowed a gasp of delight when she saw the charming room. Jon had painted a zoo scene on one wall. Giraffes and elephants, zebras and monkeys appeared in a variety of realistic poses.

“You did this?” she asked, astonished.

“I haven’t quite finished.” He pointed to an area that had been drawn but not yet colored.

All the furniture was new. He’d bought an infant swing and a crib with a canopy. A high chair stood in the corner; presumably he’d move it down to the kitchen when Katie was ready for it. Maryellen’s previous worry seemed even more ridiculous.

“It’s wonderful,” she told him. “I made a fool of myself coming out here like this.” She couldn’t look at him. “I’ll go now.”

Jon stopped her by stretching out his arm. “Katie and I want you to stay,” he said, his eyes holding hers.

The lump in her throat eased as she gave him a smile. She wanted very much to spend this day with Jon and Katie.

Six

Tuesday evening, as the setting sun cast golden shadows over the cove, Grace left the library. She’d spent much of the day training a new assistant, so had stayed late to deal with her own paperwork. She was tired to the point of exhaustion. Times like these, she missed Dan the most. It would’ve been good to go home, have a quiet supper with him, maybe relate an anecdote or two. He’d disappeared the year before last, vanished without a word and without a trace. He’d hidden in a trailer deep in the woods, where he’d eventually committed suicide. His experience in Vietnam had never left him—the guilt and the horror of it.

After his body was found, Grace had been assailed by doubts, wondering if she could’ve known, could’ve helped, could’ve reached him somehow. She suspected it would not have been possible because of the agony that consumed him, an agony he’d never spoken about. To her or anyone….

Most recently there’d been this sadness, this emptiness she couldn’t shake. Her husband was dead and she’d lived without him for a long while and yet she couldn’t get used to his absence. That confused her. Theirs had never been a vibrant, happy marriage, but they’d made the best of it. They’d loved each other; that much she knew. She’d been wrong to think she’d be ready for another relationship so soon. She’d assumed all the grieving was over. Now she wondered if it would ever end. What she wanted was the life she’d had before Dan disappeared.

While he’d never been an overly affectionate husband, there was a certain comfort in the routines they shared. He’d bring in the mail and the newspaper every afternoon. She cooked the meals. In the evenings, they’d sit side by side and watch television or talk, whether about their daughters or about inconsequential things—incidents at work, household concerns, local news. Once a week, she’d go off to aerobics class with Olivia. Dan hadn’t liked having her gone, but he’d never asked her to stay home. He understood how important Olivia’s friendship was to her. Now the evenings were silent. Lonely. Now it was Grace who dragged the garbage can out to the curb, Grace who struggled with the lawn mower and edge trimmer, Grace who read the fine print at the bottom of the car insurance policy—and she hated it.

Walking to the parking lot behind the library, she tried to shake off her depression, reminding herself—as she often did—that she had much for which to be grateful. After years of longing, she was a grandmother twice over. Her daughters were close to her and to each other. She had good friends, especially Olivia. Her finances were in order, and while she was a long way from living a life of luxury, she earned enough to support herself. She had the answer about Dan’s disappearance, even if she didn’t like it.

Life was good, or it should be.

Buttercup greeted her happily when she got home. The dog came through the pet door at five-thirty every day to wait for her; she’d been well trained by her previous owner and didn’t budge from her appointed place until Grace arrived, even if she was late, as she was today. She collected the day’s mail and the newspaper, murmuring apologies and endearments to Buttercup. She flipped through the advertisements and bills as she walked back to the house and paused midstep when she came across a letter from Atlanta. The return address told her it was from Will Jefferson, Olivia’s older brother. Grace eagerly ripped open the envelope. She’d always been fond of Will.

Standing on the sidewalk, she quickly scanned the neatly typed, one-page letter. While in high school, Grace had idolized Olivia’s brother from afar. He’d been a heartthrob way back then, and the years had done little to diminish his appeal. She’d seen him just recently when he’d flown home for Charlotte’s surgery. Grace was amazed at how attractive she found him even now, thirty-seven years after she’d graduated from high school.

His letter was one of condolence. He told her how sorry he was about Dan, then wrote briefly about the changes he’d noticed in Cedar Cove. He said it had felt good to be home for more than just a brief visit after all these years. He added that he’d enjoyed seeing her. Since his return to Atlanta, he’d been talking to his wife about retiring in a few years and said he’d like to consider moving back to Cedar Cove.

Grace knew Olivia and Charlotte must be thrilled at the prospect. Then she saw that under his signature, Will had included his e-mail address. He didn’t ask her to write, but there it was, like an open invitation.

On her way into the house, Grace went through Will’s letter a second time, trying to read between the lines. There didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, nothing beyond his sincere sympathy and a bit of chatty news about his future plans.

She replaced the letter inside the envelope, fed Buttercup and then turned on the television. These days her TV was more for companionship than entertainment. The evening was unseasonably warm and she dug around her refrigerator, deciding she’d just have a salad. She found herself humming as she shuffled the milk carton around two small yogurt containers.

Grace stopped abruptly and straightened. When she’d left the library, she’d been feeling melancholy, but now her spirits were soaring. A feeling of happy anticipation filled her. The only thing she could attribute this change to was Will’s letter. Was she so fickle, she wondered with some dismay, that a letter from an old friend—a high-school crush—could improve her mood so radically?

She didn’t get the opportunity to consider that. Buttercup barked once and trotted to the front door just seconds before the bell rang.

Grace walked over to answer it and discovered Olivia standing on the other side of her screen.

“Do you have a minute?” her friend asked. She looked upset, which shocked Grace, since Olivia was normally so composed.

“Olivia! Of course. What’s happened?”

Her friend gestured hopelessly as if she didn’t know where to start. “I can’t believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“First I hear from Stan, and then after weeks of silence, from Jack, too. This was within a few hours of each other—it’s as if those two have radar and know exactly what the other is doing.”

This was fabulous news as far as Grace was concerned. “Jack? You heard from Jack?” She sat down on the sofa.

Olivia nodded. “The man is a weasel, that’s what he is.”

“Jack?” Grace asked, puzzled. “What did he do this time?”

Olivia flopped down next to Grace. “He had flowers delivered to the house. They’re gorgeous and the colors are incredible. It must’ve cost him a fortune, but that’s not the half of it.”

“Jack sent you flowers?” Grace cried as though outraged. “Why, that low-down, dirty rat.”

“I called to thank him.”

“A mistake for sure,” Grace said. She enjoyed seeing her friend so obviously in love with Jack—and so confused by him—although she wished Olivia could sort out her feelings. Naturally Stan was eager to distract her, eager to have her back, and feeling as unsettled as she did, Olivia might weaken and return to him.

Grace would say one thing for Olivia’s ex-husband: his timing was impeccable. The minute Olivia got involved in another relationship—up popped a repentant Stan, hoping to lure her back.

“You won’t believe what he said to me.”

“Jack or Stan?” Grace was losing track.

“Both of them,” Olivia cried.

“Start with Stan.” If Olivia was ready to have Jack arrested for sending her flowers, Grace could only imagine what her ex-husband had done.

“Stan phoned and wanted to take me to dinner.”

“He didn’t,” Grace said, feigning a gasp. “Lock him up and throw away the key!”

Olivia glared at her, eyes glittering with irritation. “You’re making fun of me, Grace Sherman.”

Grace laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “No one’s sending me flowers and asking me to dinner these days. There’s got to be some other reason you’re so annoyed. Are they trying to outdo each other?” That made sense—but on the other hand, it seemed to be what Olivia wanted, judging by her earlier complaints.

Olivia unfolded her arms and stroked Buttercup’s silky head. “Actually, Stan started it. He wants me to have dinner with him in Seattle on Friday night.”

Grace arched her eyebrows. “Why Seattle?”

“He’s got a corporate dinner he’s required to attend and he didn’t want to go alone. He has a hotel room and—”

“One room?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “He seems to think I’m too naive to know what he’s got in mind. Oh, sure, the room will have two beds, but I wasn’t born yesterday and I know Stanley Lockhart. He has plans.”

“What about Jack?”

“The flowers arrived,” she said dreamily. “Grace, after all these weeks, I have to tell you I was so pleased to get them.”

Grace was equally thrilled. Although it had taken Jack long enough…. “What did the card say?”

Olivia dropped her gaze. “He signed his name. That’s all.”

Smart man. “In other words, he made the first move and the rest is up to you?”

“Exactly.”

“You phoned him?”

She nodded. “I did, and he answered on the first ring—almost as if he’d been sitting there waiting for me to call. It felt wonderful to talk to him again. We were getting along famously until—” Her eyes narrowed and she heaved a deep sigh.

“Until what?”

“He asked me to dinner on Friday night, and I made the mistake of saying there must be something in the air because I was getting dinner invitations right and left.”

Not the most brilliant comment, Grace agreed, but Olivia already knew that.

“It took Jack about two seconds to realize the other invitation came from Stan. Then he got all weird on me and said he was busy on Friday, after all. He wished me a lovely evening with Stan, and before I could say another word, he made some excuse and was off the phone.”