Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(34)

"Because I'm a weak man and I'm hungry."

She smiled. "Third shelf down on the left-hand side."

"You're gonna have to do something about this refrigerator," Bob complained. "I can't find a thing to eat in here."

This was a routine complaint. The refrigerator was stuffed with food, but her husband continually claimed there was nothing to eat. Peggy didn't bother to respond.

Munching on a chicken leg, he joined her in the family room off the kitchen.

"It's getting nasty out there."

Peggy could hear the rain pounding against the bay windows in the breakfast nook. "My garden could use it."

"The grass is going to grow and then I'll have to cut it again," he muttered. "I swear it's a vicious cycle."

Concentrating on her needlepoint, Peggy smiled. This, too, was one of his regular lamentations.

A branch struck the window and the wind howled. It reminded her of the night Maxwell Russell had appeared at the door, asking for a room. A chill slithered down her arms. That night was one she'd prefer to forget.

"How about a cup of coffee?" Bob asked.

"Yes, thanks."

The wind howled again and Peggy's eyes met Bob's. He didn't need to say anything; she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. That rainy night...

"Decaf?" Bob called from the kitchen.

"Please." She set her cross-stitch aside and stood, raising her arms in a stretch. "How was the meeting?"

"Good. Jack was there."

Her husband wasn't supposed to tell her who was or wasn't at his AA meetings, but there was little in life they didn't share.

"Olivia and Jack are still in the honeymoon phase," he said, sounding like a serious student of the stages of marriage. "All he could talk about was Olivia."

"It's refreshing to find a man who's madly in love with his wife, don't you think?"

Bob laughed. "That's a loaded question if I ever heard one."

"I like Olivia."

"So do I, but those two are about as different as two people can be."

"Yes, but they're well-suited, too. Jack makes her laugh. And Olivia brings balance into his life."

"He cleaned out his car for her."

"Jack?" This was a noteworthy event. Jack's car was notoriously cluttered with fast-food cartons, old newspapers and what-have-you. For years Peggy had made a joke of it.

"Apparently Olivia's something of a neat freak. Everything in its place and a place for everything."

Peggy frowned. Jack was a born slob. The only thing he'd ever organized in his life was the front page of the newspaper.

"It won't be long before Jack starts complaining," Bob said knowledgeably.

"About what?"

Bob sighed as if the answer should be obvious. "Olivia, of course. Mark my words, Peggy. Jack will give this marriage his best shot, but I don't think he'll be able to maintain Olivia's high standards."

Peggy was not amused. "That's the most negative thing I've heard you say in months."

"Don't get me wrong. I think the world of Jack—and of Olivia—but I can see the writing on the wall with those two."

Peggy was annoyed by his attitude. But before she could chastise Bob, he continued his discussion of the differences between Jack and Olivia.

"She's even got him eating healthy meals. She actually made grilled tofu and eggplant—eggplant—last week. I burst out laughing when Jack told me. Can you imagine a meat-and-potatoes man like Jack eating tofu and eggplant?"

"I'll bet it was fabulous." Peggy was a big fan of both and had cooked tofu a number of times. Bob had eaten it, not realizing what it was, and complimented her on dinner. She'd pass along a couple of her recipes to Olivia and explain that the secret was not to say a word.

"He made some excuse as soon as he could and drove to Burger King for a Double Whopper with cheese."

"Shame on him," Peggy murmured, although she smiled at the thought of Jack rushing out the back door, desperate for a fast-food fix.

Bob brought her the coffee in a mug. No sooner had he handed it to her than the lights flickered. "This is turning into some storm. What did the weatherman have to say?"

"I switched channels before the weather came on."

Bob scowled up at the light fixtures. "I'd better find a flashlight before we lose electricity altogether."

Peggy sipped her coffee and set the mug on the counter. "That's not a bad idea."

She followed her husband into the mudroom, where he opened a cupboard door and peered inside. "Have you heard anything on the Russell investigation?" she asked.

Bob glanced over his shoulder as if her question had startled him. "No. What makes you ask?"

"No reason. I was just thinking about everything this afternoon. Doesn't it seem mighty convenient that Dan Sherman killed himself when he did?"

Her husband didn't answer.

"I can't help wondering about that."

The lights flickered again, and this time went out. The room was pitch-black and silent without the background noise of the TV and the hum of the fridge.

"Bob?"