1022 Evergreen Place

“I’d be very pleased to see you again.” He clutched the cigar box and the small diary. “I can’t thank you enough for going to the effort of finding me so you could return these letters.” He inhaled softly. “They’ll mean the world to my children—and to me.”



Mack stood and so did Mary Jo. Impulsively she bent down and kissed the leathery cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.



“Why are you thanking me?” he asked. “You’re the ones who found me and brought me back my letters.”



“Thank you for writing them, and for showing Mack and me how much we owe the heroes of your generation.”



He dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense, I’m no hero.”



“I disagree,” Mack said. “I can understand why you’re called the ‘Greatest Generation’—because you are.”



The old man looked up at them and smiled. Then, raising his hand to his forehead, he saluted them.



Thirty-Two



Olivia slipped into the row of seats behind Grace Harding. The wedding of Faith Beckwith and Troy Davis was about to start. The large gazebo outside Justine’s Victorian Tea Room was filled to capacity as so many well-wishers had come to share this special day.



No sooner had she sat down than the music swelled and Pastor Flemming came forward. Faith and Troy stood, with their families and friends gathered in a semicircle around them. After a few words from the clergyman, Faith and Troy quietly exchanged their vows. The ceremony, while short, touched Olivia’s heart.



Jack was obviously moved, too. Her husband clasped her hand and she squeezed back. They’d both come to a fuller appreciation of each other in the past eight months, while she’d battled cancer. Just as Jack’s heart attack several years earlier had showed Olivia how much she loved this man, her cancer had brought him the same realization. These illnesses had made the prospect of loss very real, and they’d both learned to treasure each day together.



Jack Griffin, the town paper’s new editor, had stormed into Olivia’s life twenty years after her divorce. Now she wondered how she’d lived all those years without him.



Like Faith and Troy, she and Jack had hit more than a few snags in their relationship. But their marriage was worth every hard lesson in compromise and tolerance. She knew the same would be true for Faith and Troy.



They’d all attended high school around the same time, and Olivia remembered that Faith and Troy had dated. After graduation they’d gone their separate ways, only to meet again almost forty years later, both widowed by this time. They’d quickly renewed their relationship.



Now, seeing them look at each other with such love, Olivia couldn’t help feeling this marriage would be as happy as hers and Jack’s.



The reception was inside the recently opened restaurant. Troy and Faith stood at the entrance and greeted each of their guests. Faith was beautiful in her soft pink suit, with a bouquet of white rosebuds. Troy had never looked handsomer, wearing a dark suit and pink tie. A white rosebud boutonniere was pinned to his lapel.



“I’m so glad you could make it,” Faith told Olivia, hugging her. Justine and her staff bustled about, carrying trays of food to the buffet table.



“I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Olivia said, and it was true.



Grace and Cliff followed Olivia and Jack as they entered the restaurant. A number of round tables, covered in white linen, were artfully arranged about the room. Each had a pink floral arrangement at its center. A buffet table, set up against the wall, held a tiered wedding cake, with a large silver punch bowl beside it.



Holding Olivia’s hand, Jack led the way to a centrally located table. Grace and Cliff joined them.



“How long do you think it’ll be before they cut the cake?” Jack asked, leaning toward Olivia.



“Jack!” Pretending to be scandalized, she elbowed her husband. “You’re worse than a kid!”



“I can’t help it, I’m hungry,” her husband protested. “And I’m especially hungry for cake.”



Olivia laughed. “Okay, it shouldn’t be long.”



“There’s lots of nice-looking food over there,” Cliff said, pointing at the buffet table. “If you get some, bring extras for me.”



“Cliff,” Grace chastised. “We just had lunch.”



“That was hours ago.”



“No one else is going up for food yet.”



“Hey, somebody has to be the first.”



Grace exchanged a look with Olivia and rolled her eyes.



Jack suddenly turned to Olivia. “Is that your brother?” he asked in a low voice.



Olivia craned her neck to see. Sure enough, it was Will. She hadn’t even realized he’d been invited to the wedding. With the art gallery to run, it was unusual for him to take time off in the middle of a Saturday, which was the most profitable day of the week, particularly during the summer. “I didn’t notice him in church earlier, did you?”



“Can’t say I did,” Jack commented. “He looks a bit lost to me.”



Olivia glanced over at Grace and Cliff. “Would you mind if I invited Will to join us?”



Grace deferred to her husband.



“Fine with me,” Cliff said. He stretched his arm across the back of Grace’s chair in what Olivia recognized as a possessive gesture.



She approached her brother, who stood just inside the restaurant. Although past sixty, Will was still an attractive man. In some ways his natural good looks and charismatic personality had been a detriment. Everything had come too easily to Will. He’d been a star football player, the high school’s homecoming king and an equally big success in college. He’d done well as an engineer and risen steadily up the ranks of his company, retiring early after his divorce. Personally, Olivia was pleased to have Will living in Cedar Cove. Despite his irresponsible behavior toward his ex-wife, Georgia—and toward Grace—she valued his wit, his intelligence and his friendship with her and Jack. She couldn’t fault his emotional and practical support when she’d been so ill. Besides, their mother was getting on in years, although Charlotte would be the first to insist she didn’t want her children looking after her. Regardless, Olivia welcomed her brother’s presence in town and was grateful she wouldn’t have to make any decisions concerning Charlotte on her own.



“Will, come and sit with us,” she said, impulsively touching his arm.



Will turned around. “Oh, hi, Liv. Thanks, but I’ve got Mom with me. She’s in the ladies’ room at the moment.”



“You brought Mom?”



He answered with a sigh. “She phoned at the last minute and said she needed a ride to the wedding and asked if I could take her. As it was, we missed most of the ceremony.”



“Where’s Ben?”



Will shook his head. “She didn’t say, but something’s up.”



Olivia wasn’t sure what to make of this. She’d talk privately with her mother when she had the chance. “It was good of you to drop everything and bring her here.”



“No big deal,” Will said, shrugging off her thanks. “I wasn’t that busy and Miranda Sullivan’s filling in for me.”



“Miranda Sullivan,” Olivia repeated. “I don’t believe I know her.”



“You probably don’t. She lives in Gig Harbor but she’s in town quite often. She’s friends with Shirley Bliss.”



“Oh.” Olivia would make a point of seeking Miranda out and introducing herself. She wanted to thank the other woman for taking Will’s place at the gallery so he could escort Charlotte to the wedding.



Olivia touched her brother’s arm again. “Will, is everything all right?” She’d rarely seen him so disheartened.



“Everything’s fine.” His answer was quick. Too quick. He must have realized it because he gave her a chagrined look. “Okay, if you must know, I had a bit of a surprise last week.”



“What kind of surprise?”



“Not a good one.” He sighed. “I made a point of letting Shirley Bliss know I was interested in her.”



Olivia was well aware of it; her brother had set his sights on Shirley and actively pursued her.



“You might recall that she and I went out a few times.”



After each outing Will had talked endlessly about Shirley. He’d asked Olivia to suggest a restaurant in Seattle, and then followed her advice and made a reservation. The next week he reported what a wonderful dinner they’d had.



“How is Shirley?” Olivia asked.



“According to Miranda, she’s in love,” he said despairingly. “And it isn’t with me.”



“Oh, Will, I’m so sorry.”



“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s my own fault. I introduced her to an artist friend of mine and then, next thing I know, the two of them are head over heels for each other, which Miranda was happy to share. A week ago they came to the gallery—and they thanked me,” he said sardonically. “Trust me, I can read the writing on the wall.” He stared down at his feet and shrugged again, trying to pretend it really didn’t matter.



Clearly this rejection had come as a shock to her brother. Women had always been interested in Will, and he’d been interested in them. It seemed that, in the past, Will could’ve had almost any woman he wanted. Grace was an exception, but that was a whole other story.



“The thing is,” her brother said. “I’m getting old.”



“Older, Will, not old.”



“Same difference.”



“Oh, come on. You’re as attractive as ever.”



He raised his eyebrows but didn’t respond.



Olivia was surprised by the fragility of her brother’s ego. She wanted to laugh off his concern, but she could see that he took this seriously. She supposed his inability to cope with rejection made sense, considering he’d received very little of it over the years.



“I’m afraid,” he said.



“Of what?”



He looked away. “Of growing old alone.”



She searched for the words to reassure him and would have spoken if not for the fact that their mother stepped out of the ladies’ room just then. Olivia knew immediately that Will was right; Charlotte was distressed about something.



“Mom,” Olivia said, meeting her halfway. She slipped an arm around her mother. “Come and sit with us.”



“You don’t mind, dear?”



“Of course not.” She steered Charlotte toward the table where Jack and her friends were waiting with their champagne flutes. Will followed two steps behind.



Charlotte sat next to Olivia and set her small handbag in her lap. Olivia noticed that her mother hadn’t brought her knitting, which was unusual. Charlotte never allowed a spare moment—even at a formal event like this—to pass without knitting.



Moving a little closer to her mother, Olivia asked, “Where’s Ben?”



Her mother stared at her blankly.



“Ben, Mom,” she repeated. “Where’s Ben?”