Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(48)

He squeezed his eyes shut and didn't respond.

"There's a nice thing about me being pregnant."

He wanted to know what it was, but at the moment the blood flow in his body wasn't headed in the direction of his brain.

"You don't have to wait until I'm asleep to come to bed anymore."

He smiled to himself. With a soft growl, he urged her onto her back. Sighing in surrender and welcome, she slid her arms around his neck and guided his mouth to hers.

"We're going to be all right," she promised him. "We really are."

Ian so badly wanted to believe her. "I know." But anything else he might have said was lost as he buried his fears in his wife's embrace.

Twenty-Four

Charlotte Jefferson couldn't stop smiling. She placed a cherry pie in the oven and set the timer, then turned to her knitting.

"Wipe that silly grin off your face," she chided Harry, her black cat, who sat on the arm of the sofa and studied her with a bemused look. "I know, I know, but this is just so wonderful I can't believe it's really happening."

When the doorbell chimed, Charlotte carefully put her knitting aside and hurried to answer it. She checked the peephole—one could never be too cautious—and saw that it was her daughter. After unbolting the locks, she opened the front door.

"What took you so long?" Olivia sputtered as she barreled past Charlotte. She was halfway into the kitchen before she stopped. Whirling around, she marched back into the living room and then sank abruptly onto the sofa, as though all her energy had drained away.

"Olivia, what's gotten into you?" Charlotte asked, concerned by her daughter's odd behavior.

Olivia bolted to her feet and almost immediately sat down again. She covered her face with both her hands. "I think I've made a terrible mistake."

"What mistake?"

Olivia dropped her hands and stared forlornly out the living-room window, her shoulders sagging. She looked close to tears. "It's Jack and me."

Charlotte gasped. "My goodness, you've been married less than three months!"

"You think I don't know that? Lately... lately it's like we can't even talk."

"You and Jack? Why? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Mom, I feel so awful. We're just so different and we irritate one another and... and..."

"There, there now," Charlotte cooed softly. Things must be bad for her daughter to show up on her doorstep in this condition. In all the years Olivia had been married to Stan, never once had she run home after an argument or sought her parents' advice.

"I love Jack so much."

"Of course you do." Olivia's feelings for him were apparent months before she admitted she was in love.

Olivia's face crumpled as she struggled to hold back tears. "I love him, but he... he's a slob. And I can't stand it."

"You have to compromise, sweetie."

"You think I haven't tried?" Olivia shook her head. "I hate myself for nagging him to pick up his dirty clothes, but really, why should I follow him around and clean up after him?"

"Wait here," Charlotte murmured. "I'm making a pot of tea." The most serious discussions required tea. For some reason, everything made more sense over a shared cup of strong tea. And whatever had happened between Olivia and Jack appeared to be serious, indeed.

Less than ten minutes later, Charlotte was back. She carried in the tray, complete with a large ceramic pot, two china cups and a plate of homemade cookies. Olivia sat on the edge of the sofa with a wadded tissue in her hands.

"Start at the beginning," Charlotte said as she poured. She handed the first cup and saucer to Olivia, then poured her own. Olivia set the cup on the coffee table, her composure shaky.

"I'm...I'm not sure how this whole thing began, but tonight when I came home and saw the mess in the bathroom, I lost it. I realize Jack doesn't care about tidiness and order the way I do, but that's no excuse for leaving wet towels on the floor. He didn't so much as pick up his dirty underwear."

Charlotte sighed.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything but I did, and then Jack yelled at me and..." Her lower lip trembled. "We both said things we shouldn't have. He left and then I left, and now I feel so bad."

"Of course you do," Charlotte said with warm sympathy.

"When we returned from Hawaii, he made an effort to keep the house neat, but it didn't take him long to slip back into his old habits."

"That's a man for you," Charlotte said. "With your father and me, what we quarreled about was his tendency never to throw anything out. I'd get annoyed and put ten-year-old bills in the trash and then he'd get annoyed...." She sighed again, remembering. It seemed such a small thing now.

"I know I have irritating habits, too," Olivia said. "Mother, do you think I'm compulsive?"

Charlotte wasn't about to answer but it didn't matter; Olivia barreled on.

"Just because I insist the cap be on the toothpaste and the towels hung evenly on the rack—that doesn't make me a neat freak, does it?"

"Everyone has a certain, uh, comfort level," Charlotte said, hoping to sidestep the issue. She'd come across that useful term in a magazine article a while ago.