Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(9)



Grace Sherman stood at the front desk when Cliff entered the library.

She glanced up when he approached the counter. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Cliff Harding,” he said and waited.

It obviously took a moment for his name to register. “Oh, hi—you’re the one who has my credit card and I have yours. I’m sorry. I should have recognized you. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll get my purse.” Grace took a deep breath, then said, “I was going to call you back this evening.”

“That’s what Olivia said.”

“You know Olivia?”

“We met this afternoon at Charlotte’s.”

Again she hesitated, as if needing time to connect all the dots. “You’re Tom Harding’s grandson. Charlotte’s often mentioned you. I apologize, I didn’t immediately realize who you were. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be a moment.”

“Of course.”

She disappeared into a small office directly behind the counter and returned with her purse. His credit card was tucked inside a small white envelope. They exchanged credit cards, laughed about what had happened, then stood gazing at each other for an awkward few seconds.

It was now or never, Tom decided. “I was thinking maybe we could laugh over this at dinner one night.” It’d been years since Cliff had asked a woman out on a date, and he felt a little uneasy. When she didn’t respond, he was sure he’d bungled the invitation.

“Dinner?” Grace finally echoed. “The two of us?”

Cliff spoke rapidly. “I’ve been divorced for the last five years. I haven’t dated since my wife left and…well, I think maybe it’s time I did.”

“I see,” she said, staring at him again. “I mean…” She paused and took another deep, audible breath. “Thank you.” She raised her hand to her throat. “You don’t know how flattered I am that you’d ask. Unfortunately, I’m not ready just yet.”

That was a fair reply. “When do you think you might be ready?”

“I…can’t say. I recently filed for divorce. I don’t feel it would be right for me to see anyone else until I’m legally free to do so.” She looked away. “I take it you heard about my husband?”

Cliff nodded slowly. “I’ll be waiting, Grace, and I’m a patient man.”

Her eyes met his and he saw the beginnings of a smile. That was something he hoped to see again. Soon.

“You’d better tell me what’s wrong.” Jack said, his stocking feet propped up against the ottoman in front of Olivia’s large-screen television. Tuesday night was their date night. Olivia had invited him over for dinner and The New Detectives on the Discovery Channel. Lately they’d taken turns supplying the meal. This week it had been Olivia’s turn and she’d baked a chicken casserole that was worthy of a cooking award. He generally brought takeout.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” she countered.

“You’ve barely said a word all night.”

Olivia sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. It’d been his lucky day, that morning nine months earlier when Jack had strolled into her courtroom. New to Cedar Cove and the newspaper, he’d visited the divorce court, jaded by his own experience and expecting to hear what he always did.

But Olivia was different. A young couple, Ian and Cecilia Randall, had stood before her, accompanied by their attorneys. Another divorce, two people with broken hearts pretending they were above the pain. Only it radiated from both of them. Jack saw it and wondered if anyone else did. He assumed all those involved in the legal process had become blind to the human wreckage that appeared before these judges. Couples walked in battered and broken, emotionally crippled by the pain husbands and wives so often inflicted on each other.

The Randalls had lost an infant daughter, Jack recalled, and were asking Olivia to rescind their prenuptial agreement so they could file for divorce. Olivia denied the petition and, in essence, had denied their divorce. Jack’s column that weekend had praised her courage.

Olivia hadn’t appreciated the unwanted attention, but she’d forgiven him. In the months since, he’d gotten to know Olivia Lockhart. They’d grown close, and he was beginning to hope this relationship had a future.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked, wondering if he was reading more into her silence than he should. He’d had his own bit of troubling news this afternoon, but he wasn’t ready to disclose it.

“I’m worried about Justine,” Olivia said after a moment.

“How so?” As far as Jack knew, Olivia’s daughter was deeply in love with her fisherman husband.

“She was seen having lunch with Warren Saget last Friday.”

“Warren?” Jack had never understood what Olivia’s daughter saw in the land developer. Now that Justine had married Seth, he’d hoped Warren would move on to greener pastures—which in his case probably meant an even younger woman.

“You heard it or Justine mentioned it?”

“I heard it,” Olivia said and gnawed on her lower lip. “Justine doesn’t share much with me.” She gazed at him with wide anxious eyes. “I think…she regrets marrying Seth.”

Jack removed his feet from the ottoman and leaned forward. This was serious. He frowned, trying to think of something reassuring he could say. But he was hardly an expert on the parent-child connection. His relationship with his own son was on rocky ground and with good reason. As a child, Eric had suffered from leukemia. Jack had turned to the bottle for solace, and for years he’d emotionally abandoned his wife and son. Following the divorce, Eric hadn’t wanted anything to do with his father. Jack couldn’t blame the boy; nevertheless, it stung. Now after several years of sobriety and with Olivia’s encouragement, he’d made a determined effort to reestablish contact.

Debbie Macomber's Books