204 Rosewood Lane

Seth brought out a bottle of sparkling wine while Justine hung up Olivia’s coat.



“Are we celebrating something?” Olivia asked, sitting on a delicate chair with petit point upholstery.



“We have news,” Justine said, smiling warmly at her husband.



Seth set the wine bottle on the counter and then sank down on the sofa next to Justine. “When I returned from fishing this last time, Justine and I decided we didn’t want to spend half the year apart.”



“It’s just too hard on both of us,” Justine added.



This was their news?



“You’re giving up fishing?” Olivia asked. It was in Seth’s blood. The Gunderson family had a long history as fishermen, dating back four or five generations.



“Seth and I are buying a restaurant,” Justine announced. “The Captain’s Galley has been for sale for a couple of months and we made an offer, which the owner has accepted.”



Okay, this wasn’t exactly what Olivia had hoped, but it wasn’t bad. “That’s great!”



“We haven’t decided on a new name yet,” Justine said. “But we’re very excited.” She glanced at her husband and he reached for her hand.



Olivia relaxed. “I’m thrilled for you. It’s going to be a lot of hard work, but you already know that.”



“Seth’s been saving for years for something like this.” Again her daughter looked proudly at her husband. “I’ll keep my job for now, but eventually I’ll be working at the restaurant, too.”



“Are you keeping the current staff or hiring new people?” Olivia asked, wondering about Cecilia Randall, who worked as a part-time hostess at The Captain’s Galley.



“We don’t know any of the staff yet,” Seth told her. “This is still very new. In fact, we just found out that our offer had been accepted an hour ago.”



“Actually, we invited you to dinner before we heard from the real estate broker.”



“Oh? You mean there’s more?”



“Mama,” Justine said, leaning forward and gripping both of Olivia’s hands.



Her daughter only called her that when she was feeling very emotional; Olivia hadn’t heard it in years. Justine’s beautiful blue eyes filled with tears as she smiled at Olivia. “Seth and I are pregnant.”



Olivia let out a cry of sheer happiness and leaped to her feet. Justine and Seth stood, too, and Olivia wrapped her arms around them as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. This was the news she’d come to hear.



Cliff Harding sat with his long legs stretched out, staring at the television set. The sitcom bored him, but he didn’t blame the writing or the acting. He’d been restless all day.



Hell of a way to spend a Friday night. What he really wanted to do was see Grace. He’d purposely not talked to her since shortly before Christmas. He was tired of always being the one to contact her; this time, he decided, she’d have to call him. Ten days into the New Year felt more like ten lifetimes, and his resolve was weakening. He’d told her he was a patient man but that was stretching the truth. He could be patient. He didn’t like it, though, not one damn bit.



Maybe she was right and he should think about seeing other women. The problem was, no one interested him half as much as Grace. He liked everything about her. Her smile, her laugh, the gentle way she had with children and animals. She wasn’t conventionally beautiful, but she possessed beauty in abundance. He liked her salt-and-pepper hair and approved of the shorter cut, preferring it to the longer style she’d worn in the family photograph. Although she’d obviously aged since then, the years had only added depth and maturity.



Cliff believed in the importance of loyalty—a belief his divorce had confirmed—and he didn’t want to be with a woman who could easily turn her back on a thirty-five year marriage. But it was now nine months since Dan’s disappearance, and from all the evidence, the choice to leave had been his.



Everything he’d heard pointed to the fact that Grace’s ex was involved with another woman. The afternoon Grace spent on his ranch, she’d told him a little about those early weeks after Dan had vanished. When she described finding out about a ring he’d charged at a jewelry store, she’d grown tearful. Apparently Dan had bought a ring on their VISA bill. His last paycheck covered the amount of the purchase, and that had been mailed to Grace from his employer.



What hurt Grace was the fact that other than the plain gold band he’d given her on their wedding day, Dan had never purchased her a ring. It seemed he’d bought one for another woman, though, and that had cut Grace to the quick.



Walking into his office, Cliff reached for a novel, the latest thriller by an author he particularly enjoyed. But even before he went back into the living room and opened the book, he knew it was useless. His mind was on Grace, not the mindless entertainment of a television sit-com, or even the involved plot of a murder mystery.



Christmas week was the last time he’d seen her. Again, it had been at his own instigation. After the trip to the ranch, she’d written him a brief note. Three lines. A simple thank-you, and yet he’d read that card over and over, looking for some secret message, some encouragement.



He waited until just before Christmas, then dropped in at the Cedar Cove Library with a gift. It was nothing creative or terribly expensive. Just a token gift so she’d known he’d been thinking about her. From her brief note, he saw that she’d used a fountain pen. He preferred fountain pens himself. He’d picked up one of his favorite brands, had the store wrap it and then promptly delivered it to her at the library. She’d seemed surprised and grateful but also embarrassed because she didn’t have anything for him.



She couldn’t afford it, he realized. Her ex-husband’s disappearance had obviously created financial difficulties; she’d worked with a budget that included two incomes and now there was only one. Their conversation was brief, the day he saw her at the library, but he could easily read between the lines. This was a difficult Christmas for her, and not only because it was the first since her divorce became final.



Cliff harbored a secret hope that she’d invite him to Christmas dinner, but she was joining her youngest daughter for the holiday. He’d hoped she might call him on New Year’s Eve, perhaps suggest meeting for a drink. But that hadn’t happened, either.



Now Cliff was beginning to doubt himself—and Grace. She might never recover from Dan’s disappearance. Even if they got involved, he feared she’d always be looking over her shoulder for Dan. Perhaps the best thing to do was walk away and forget he’d ever met her.



It should be easy. They’d never kissed. Okay, once on the cheek. They’d held hands a couple of times, but that was about as sensual as it got. Cliff was more man than saint, and whenever they were together the temptation to hold and kiss her, really kiss her, grew more potent.



The phone rang, startling him out of his reverie. He’d never been one for extended telephone conversations. His gruff, unfriendly voice usually turned telemarketers away, which he considered a definite bonus.



“Harding,” he barked.



No one spoke, and Cliff had started to hang up when he heard Grace’s tentative greeting. He jerked the phone back to his ear.



“Grace?”



“Hello, Cliff. I hope you don’t mind me phoning you out of the blue like this.”



“Hello, Grace.” He kept his voice just a little impatient.



“I wanted to thank you for the fountain pen. I really like the way it writes.”



His problem, Cliff decided, was that he was too eager, which was why he’d come up with his wait-and-see strategy, why he hadn’t been in touch since Christmas. If he was a bit more standoffish, she might appreciate him more, seek out his company. Apparently, his plan had worked—although only seconds earlier he was ready to forget the entire relationship. Cool Hand Cliff, that was him.



“When you came by the library, you suggested the two of us might go out for dinner one night.”



“Did I?” he asked casually, although he knew very well that he had.



“Yes.” She sounded pretty certain of herself. “I was thinking I’d take you up on that offer—if you’re still interested.”



He was interested, all right, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend otherwise. “When?”



“I…I don’t know. What’s a good time for you?”



“Let me check my calendar.” He ruffled through the pages of his book, as though he had to consult a full social calendar. “How about tomorrow night? Seven?”



She sighed, clearly relieved. “That would be perfect.”



All day Saturday, Cliff was in a state of nervous anticipaton. Saturday night, Cliff had shaved, showered and dressed by six. He could leave now, but in evening traffic it only took about fifteen minutes to get from his ranch to her house. He’d rather arrive early, though, than hang around at home.



As it was, even after taking his time, he got there a whole half hour ahead of schedule, which he was afraid might give Grace the wrong message. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that she seemed equally nervous.



“I thought we’d drive into Tacoma,” he said. He wanted Grace to feel comfortable, and he wasn’t sure that would be possible if she was constantly worried about who might see the two of them together. “There’s a nice Italian place I’m fond of on the other side of the bride.” The Narrows separated the KitsapPeninsula from Tacoma and the bridge linked the two communities.



“I love Italian food.”



Cliff had called ahead and reserved a corner table. The drive was relaxed, conversation alternating with companionable silence. Their meal took nearly two hours as they lingered first over dinner and wine and then coffee and dessert. Cliff wasn’t eager to leave, but the restaurant was filling up and it didn’t seem right to hold on to the table all night.



Returning to Cedar Cove, they approached the NarrowsBridge. As traffic slowed, Cliff glanced at Grace and saw she’d leaned her head against the back of the seat, her eyes closed.



“You look very peaceful,” he said.



“I feel wonderful.” She paused. “It was a lovely evening.”



The food was excellent, the merlot some of the best he could remember, but he sincerely hoped Grace was referring to the company and not the meal.



“I feel…free,” she said, eyes still closed. “I assumed that if I agreed to have dinner with you, I’d spend the entire night feeling guilty.”



“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about—yet.”



“Yet?” She lifted her head and stared at him.



“I’m going to kiss you Grace,” he said firmly, keeping his eyes on the road. “And when I do, you’re going to feel that kiss all the way down to your toes.”



“Ah…”



“It’s going to be a kiss that’ll knock you for a loop…and then some.”



“Cliff, I—”



“Do you have any objections?” he asked, his voice gruff, fearing rejection.