Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(18)

Cliff's mouth moved in the barest hint of a smile. "Cal wasn't exactly keen on the idea."

"But he's willing to volunteer?"

"He didn't say, but he's considering it."

"For someone who loves animals as much as you do..."

The smile that had just begun now appeared full force. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty so I'll agree to this, Grace Sherman?"

Grace smiled, too. "Shamelessly."

He shook his head again. "I'm too old."

"Your name came up right away. Apparently you've stirred up more interest than you realized."

"I suppose you were the one who threw my name in the hat?"

Cliff Harding was the last man she'd recommend, and all because of her own self-interest. "It wasn't me." She didn't like admitting it. "Margaret White was the one who suggested you."

He shrugged as if he didn't know the name.

"She works at the vet's office."

He gestured in a way that implied he might recognize her but he wasn't sure. "I've probably seen her then."

Silence again.

Grace couldn't imagine what was taking the hostess so long. She glanced into the dining areas, but the woman seemed to have disappeared after seating the two parties ahead of her.

"Olivia and Jack are home," she said abruptly, trying to make conversation. The silence was unbearable. She couldn't stand next to this man without being reminded of the high price her Internet indiscretion had cost her.

"So I understand."

Grace hadn't seen Olivia so happy, not in years. At the same time, she seemed to be having a little trouble adjusting to married life. A couple of recent phone calls had left Grace feeling there was some stress between Olivia and Jack, although Olivia hadn't been complaining.

"From what I hear, her ex has been visiting Cedar Cove quite a bit."

Grace froze. When Stan found out that Olivia had decided to marry Jack, he'd come to Grace, maudlin and sorry for himself. In a moment of loneliness, she'd agreed to go to dinner with him. It'd been another instance of bad judgment on her part. The last thing she wanted now was for Cliff to learn about that.

"I think Stan knows he made a mistake," Grace said tentatively. If Cliff knew about her dinner with Stan, he wasn't letting on. "People do that—make mistakes they later regret." Her eyes met his, pleading with him to realize how sorry she was. Silently she implored his forgiveness.

Cliff avoided eye contact. "Stan learned that his regrets came too late, didn't he?"

Cliff was telling Grace hers had, too.

The terrible silence was back.

"Charlotte told me what you did for her and her friends," Cliff said next, as if he couldn't bear the silence either.

Grace was furious every time she thought about Troy Davis arresting Charlotte and her group of elderly protestors. For heaven's sake, Ben Rhodes was a retired admiral! Troy should be ashamed of himself.

"Charlotte was trying to better our community. I felt the least we could do was support her efforts."

Cliff tried to hide his amusement by staring down at the carpet.

"What's so funny?"

"You," he said, raising his eyes. That little smile quivered on his mouth. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

She was on his bad side, though, and the reminder instantly sobered her.

"Charlotte was thrilled with the community support and she credits you with that."

"I didn't do much."

"You spread the word."

Grace gave a careless shrug. "It wasn't much," she said again. She hadn't phoned Cliff, couldn't bring herself to do it, but in retrospect she wished she had.

As if reading her thoughts, he said. "I would've been there had I known."

The hostess reappeared just then. "Sorry to keep you waiting." She automatically reached for two menus.

Cliff looked to Grace and she saw the indecision in his eyes. It would mean the world to her if he asked her to join him for lunch. She held his gaze as long as she dared.

He stiffened, and his resolve had obviously returned. "Table for one," he said and walked away from Grace.

Nine

Roy McAfee hadn't been a private investigator for more than a few years, but he'd been in law enforcement his entire career. He was retired from the Seattle police force; after a few months, however, he'd thought he'd go stir-crazy sitting around the house doing nothing. Soon after his move to Cedar Cove, he'd hung out his shingle.

Retirement wasn't for him. Some men took to it, got involved in hobbies and interests. That kind of life was too predictable for Roy. Nothing lured him faster than a good mystery, and he didn't mean one between the covers of a book, either.

Few mysteries had intrigued him more than what was happening right here in Cedar Cove.

He sat down at his desk and reached for Bob Beldon's file. If he reviewed the facts as they'd unfolded, perhaps he'd pick up on something he'd overlooked before. He didn't think it was likely, but it wouldn't hurt to refresh his memory.

It all started the night a stranger had arrived on the doorstep of the Beldons' Thyme and Tide Bed and Breakfast. By morning he was dead.

Bob Beldon had notified Troy Davis, and the coroner came for the body. Soon afterward, it was discovered that the man had undergone extensive plastic surgery and carried false identification. For a few weeks there'd been a lot of speculation as to who he could be. Then silence—and things had died down for a while.