Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(33)

"I can't get over the fact that all along it was my own brother." It was still a shock.

Jack frowned as if he too had trouble believing what she'd told him. "How's Grace doing?"

"She's brokenhearted. Cliff doesn't want to see her anymore."

Jack tossed his jacket onto the chair beside the bed.

Olivia pointed at it, silently reminding him to hang it in the closet. For a moment, Jack glanced at the jacket and then at her. Sighing, he grabbed it and found a hanger.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning from the closet.

"About Cliff?" She had to consider that for a moment. "I don't know, but I'm sure he sincerely loved Grace at one time. He doesn't seem like the kind of man who voluntarily turns his feelings on and off."

"Then there's hope."

Jack sat down on the bed as he pulled off his shoes. With a proud grin, he lined them up neatly. Shoes were actually supposed to go in the downstairs hall closet, but Olivia didn't comment. "Remember that Grace played a big role in getting the two of us back together," he said.

"I know."

Jack slid his arms around her and tugged her closer to the edge of the bed. "Do you also remember how we met up the same day at the same movie? Accidentally on purpose?"

"Oh, yeah, that." She laughed at the memory. Their problem, in Grace's opinion, was that they were both too stubborn for their own good.

"I think we owe Grace Sherman a favor."

This perked Olivia up. "Exactly what are you suggesting?"

He was quiet a minute or so. "That benefit for the animal shelter is coming up in July, isn't it?"

"The Dog and Bachelor Auction?"

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Just remember where there's a will, there's a way."

"Oh, Jack! What a terrible pun." She rolled her eyes. "The fact that there's a Will is exactly what got in the way." Giggling, she nudged him in the shoulder. Only Jack could make her laugh about something so distressing.

He nudged her in return and they smiled at each other.

Then she shook her head. "Cliff isn't one of the bachelors. Grace said he turned them down."

"Did he really? Maybe he needs encouragement. The right kind of encouragement."

"Jack? What are you thinking?"

Eyebrows raised, her husband stayed quiet.

"Jack?"

With a move so fast he left her breathless, Jack swept her into his arms and Olivia fell against him. "Have I mentioned lately that you ask far too many questions?"

"Not lately," she said and giggled again.

He kissed her, and soon neither one of them had a single question to ask.

Sixteen

With the television on in the family room, Peggy sat working the counted cross-stitch pattern. Bob was out for the evening; he had his regular AA meeting at six and following that, he was off to the community theater to read for a part in the latest musical production. The theater had decided to put on Chicago.

Peggy spent almost every Thursday night alone and had grown accustomed to having this time to herself. Two of her favorite television shows aired on Thursdays and she could count on not being interrupted.

She yawned and covered her mouth with one hand. It'd been one of those days. The rain had started early that morning and hadn't let up all day. Not a rarity for mid-June, but Peggy had hoped to work in her garden. The rain had been a mixed blessing, though, because she'd been inside when the phone rang that afternoon. It was Hannah Russell.

Apparently Roy McAfee had called her with a number of questions and she hadn't heard back from him. Hannah wondered if there was any news. Peggy hadn't known what to tell her. Unfortunately she didn't have any infortnation for her, either, but it was unlikely that she would. The investigation into Maxwell Russell's death was out of her hands.

Hannah had sounded anxious, and Peggy had tried to reassure her. She wanted to help the young woman, but wasn't sure how. The motherly part of her longed to gather Hannah in her arms and tell her everything would be all right. The girl was hurting, wandering aimlessly to escape her pain. That wouldn't help, because wherever Hannah settled, the anguish would follow. Cliched though it was, Peggy knew from experience that time really was the great healer.

Determined to finish the cross-stitch pattern of hummingbirds in flight so she could complete another one before Christmas, Peggy glanced down at the page and paused to rub her eyes. Either the manufacturers were making smaller patterns every year or she needed new glasses. She preferred to blame the people who printed the patterns. This cross-stitch was for her daughter and she wanted to complete one for her son, Marc, as well. Although maybe she'd better choose another pattern for Marc's... The oceanscape she'd bought might be a little too complicated.

The back door opened and she looked up. It was early for Bob to be home. "Is that you, sweetheart?"

"Are you expecting some other man?" he teased.

"Not tonight. The naked dancing men are scheduled to arrive on Friday."

"Very funny." He stayed in the kitchen. "Any of that fried chicken left?"

"I thought you'd decided not to eat at night anymore."

"I did."

"Then why are you asking about the chicken?"