311 Pelican Court

Maryellen missed the special camaraderie she’d shared with the other women now that her visits were so infrequent.



“I need a hair appointment for next week,” she told Terri, who was handling the front desk. The shop was divided into two sections: hair and nails. Rachel was the only attendant who did both, and Maryellen preferred to stay with her.



“Rachel can do it next Thursday at five if that’s okay for you,” Terri said, grabbing the pencil from behind her ear.



“I may have to bring Katie with me.” It all depended on whether Katie could stay with Kelly for an extra hour or Jon could take their daughter. Not so long ago, she didn’t need to consider such things, but these days Maryellen’s world revolved around Katie—Katie’s schedule, Katie’s needs.



Terri sighed with regret. “I’m sorry, but we have a ‘no kids’ policy.” She leaned over the glass counter and lowered her voice. “So many young mothers were bringing toddlers to their appointments that we had to do something. It just isn’t a safe environment for youngsters. I know Katie’s an infant, but we had to draw the line. I hope this won’t be a problem for you.” She wore an apologetic expression.



Maryellen understood. As a customer, she found it distracting to have small children constantly underfoot. She bit her lower lip. “Is there anyone who could trim my hair this morning?” It would only take a few minutes to clip off the split ends.



“I just had a cancellation,” Terri said. She cocked her head to one side as she studied Maryellen with fresh eyes. “You want it cut, right?”



“Trimmed,” she corrected. Maryellen had worn her hair in the same easy style for years. Her dark curls fell midway down her back. She’d recently begun wearing it tied at the base of her neck, free from Katie’s exploring fingers.



Terri shook her head. “Cut. You need a change.”



“I do?”



With one fist on her hip, Terri nodded. “Short, I think. How long have you had it this length?”



Maryellen had lost count of the number of years.



“Too long,” Terri answered for her. “Yup. It’s time for a change.”



Maryellen was starting to see the possibilities. “Perhaps you’re right.”



Three hours later Maryellen emerged with freshly painted fingernails and her hair in a soft straight cut that framed her face. She barely recognized herself in the mirror, but she liked the change and hoped Jon would feel the same.



She stopped herself abruptly. It didn’t matter what Jon thought. He was part of Katie’s life, not hers, and she’d better remember that.



Even as she reminded herself of her own small role in Jon’s world, her heart pounded with anticipation as she drove out to his house to pick up Katie. He was supposed to work that afternoon, and Maryellen had an errand to run in Tacoma, so it made sense to get Katie on her way.



This was one of those rare November days in the Pacific Northwest, when the sky’s a clear, bright blue and the air is crisp and cold. Driving down the now-familiar gravel driveway to Jon’s house, Maryellen noticed an eagle overhead. With its huge wings extended, the magnificent bird soared on an updraft, as though it reigned from its lofty height.



As Maryellen pulled her vehicle to a stop, she saw Jon with Katie strapped to his back, looking toward the sky with a camera pointed at the eagle. Their daughter was awake and happy, waving her arms and making delighted sounds, obviously enjoying the out-of-doors.



Jon must have heard Maryellen approach, because he lowered his camera and turned to face her. For a long moment he didn’t say anything as he stared at the drastic change in her appearance. Self-consciously, Maryellen lifted her hand to her hair.



“What do you think?” She wanted to kick herself for asking.



He walked closer, studying her, while she stood rooted to the spot.



He cleared his throat as if searching for something to say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. “It…takes some getting used to.”



“You don’t like it?” It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t. She’d cut her hair on a whim, for herself and no one else. Jon’s opinion, no matter what it was, held no weight. And yet…it did. He clearly didn’t like the change and Maryellen was crushed.



To cover her disappointment, she reached for Katie, who was bundled up in a thick fleece outfit. Her daughter kicked her legs ecstatically as Maryellen freed her from the carrier.



As soon as Maryellen held the infant in her arms, Jon raised the camera once more. “Come on,” he urged, “give me a smile.”



Maryellen tried, but she wasn’t in the mood.



He took two or three pictures. “Again,” he insisted.



Katie was certainly a willing subject. Smiling and gurgling, she flailed her arms about from the crook of Maryellen’s arm.



“Oh, sure,” Jon said, briefly lowering the camera. “Now you’re happy. Laugh away, young lady.”



Despite her mood, Maryellen grinned. “Did Katie keep you up last night?”



“I don’t think I got more than a few hours’ sleep.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Katie was in a foul mood. Nothing satisfied her. I spent most of the night sitting in the rocking chair with her.”



“I think she might be teething.” Maryellen, too, had spent many nights dozing in an upright position. Needless to say, the next workday always ended up being hectic. In an odd way, it comforted her to know that Jon was experiencing the same troubles she did.



Out of habit, Maryellen raised her hand to flip her hair to one side, but it was too short now to toss off her shoulder.



Jon took picture after picture while she stood there.



“Come inside and I’ll make us a cup of coffee,” he said when he’d finished. She wondered if he’d abandoned his art photography in favor of snapping pictures of Katie. Pictures of their daughter were all she’d seen of his work lately. Of course, he was under contract with the Seattle gallery, and she didn’t know whether he’d submitted anything in the last couple of months. She did know his work continued to sell well and she was pleased for him.



Jon paused when she didn’t immediately follow him into the house for coffee. “Do you have time?” he asked.



Since their bout of kissing, Maryellen had managed to avoid spending time alone with Jon. He hadn’t pressured her or questioned her reasons. “I…can’t stay,” she said.



No argument came. It was almost as if he’d expected her to decline.



“I’ll get Katie’s things for you,” he said.



Unsure what prompted her, Maryellen walked inside with him. “How’s everything going at The Lighthouse?” she asked, making casual conversation. She found the success of Seth and Justine’s restaurant particularly gratifying, knowing Jon was employed as head chef. People raved about his innovative dishes. He was a talented, complex man.



Jon gathered up Katie’s favorite blanket and stuffed it into her diaper bag. He found a toy rattle, which he also stuck in the bag.



“I heard it’s impossible to get a reservation for the weekends.”



He shrugged, then looked up, his dark gaze probing hers. “Do you need one?”



“No, no,” she said, not understanding the change in his mood.



“No Saturday-night date?” he pried.



Maryellen laughed. “Hardly.”



“You didn’t get your hair styled to impress me, now did you?”



“I did it for me, Jon.”



His muscles relaxed as he slipped the strap of the diaper bag over his shoulder and gave her a brief smile. She was sure, for a moment, that he wanted to kiss her. “That’s comforting to hear,” he muttered.



His concern—was it jealousy?—was so endearing, she had to resist touching him. In an effort to hide her attraction, she said, “The girls at the nail shop said how wonderful the food at The Lighthouse is.” Terri had recently dined at the restaurant. Rachel, too.



“Thank them for me,” he said in an offhand manner, as if compliments embarrassed him.



“They asked me if I knew where you got your training. I don’t believe you ever mentioned it.” Terri had, in fact, asked her that, and Maryellen took advantage of her friend’s interest to ask a question she herself had wondered about.



“You’re right, I didn’t.” His response was blunt. Clearly he didn’t welcome any further inquiries.



“But you must have been formally trained to—”



“I wasn’t.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “I need to get ready for work.”



Maryellen was stunned. Every previous time she’d been to Jon’s place, he’d practically thrown himself in front of her car to detain her. Now it seemed he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.



Absently Maryellen looped a strand of hair around her ear, forgetting once again that her curls were much shorter now than they’d been a few hours earlier. This reaction of Jon’s was so confusing.



Silently he walked her to the car and handed her the diaper bag. “Do you have your work schedule for next week?” she asked.



“Not yet.” He stood beside her vehicle while she strapped Katie into her carrier in the back seat.



When she straightened, she noticed that his attention appeared to be elsewhere. “All right,” she said, “then I’ll wait to hear from you.”



He nodded.



She hesitated, sorry to end their time on such a negative note, but she was unsure what had gone wrong or why. “Goodbye, and…thank you.”



He stepped back from her car and Maryellen got inside and slid the key into the ignition. As she pulled away, she looked in her rearview mirror. Jon was still standing there.



Thirteen



“Are we going to have a big turkey like Mom always cooked?” Eddie asked Thanksgiving morning.



Zach wasn’t fully awake yet, and already his son was demanding answers to questions he could barely comprehend. “Sure,” he said sleepily as he sat up in bed. He glanced at the clock-radio and saw that it was only eight. Sleeping in, apparently, was not an option.



“Don’t you think you should put it in the oven now?” Eddie asked.



The turkey was supposed to be in the oven? This early? Then Zach remembered he’d already solved this issue at the local grocery store. The national chain offered fully cooked Thanksgiving dinners, complete with a thirteen-pound turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, plus dressing. As a bonus, they threw in a can of cranberry sauce and a pumpkin pie.



“Mom always had the turkey in the oven early in the morning, don’t you remember?” Eddie was almost bouncing on Zach’s bed.



Frankly Zach didn’t remember. What he recalled was the tension during Thanksgiving dinner last year, when he’d been fighting with Rosie. They’d barely managed to get through the day without a major blowup. This year was different. This year it was Zach and the kids and no one else.



According to the terms of the divorce, Zach had been awarded all the major holidays, including Thanksgiving, but Rosie got Christmas Day. He could have Allison and Eddie Christmas Eve, but only until midnight. Heaven forbid if he stayed here one minute past. He remembered Rosie’s anger as he’d disputed those terms and suspected she’d welcome the opportunity to drag him back into court. So much for peace and goodwill, he mused darkly. During the crisis precipitated by Allison’s rebellious behavior, he and Rosie had been aligned in their views and actions, but things had quickly reverted to the earlier animosity.