Cranberry Point (Cedar Cove #4)(73)

"I'm worried about my dad," Lisa confided.

"Why? How do you mean?"

"He's working too hard and he doesn't seem nearly as happy as he was the last time I saw him. I didn't notice it until this summer. He's been trying to hide it, but I know my father."

Grace wasn't nearly as happy, either. "I wish I could help, but there's nothing I can do."

"But there is, don't you see?" Lisa said with such fervor that tears sprang to her eyes. "Win him back, Grace. He loves you and you say you love him."

"I do!" Her love for him was real; she wanted Lisa to believe that. "But he doesn't want to see me."

"That's not true. Even Cal said my father's a different person since you two broke up."

"What should I do?" Grace couldn't think of a single thing she'd left unsaid or undone. Despite Cliff's repeated rejections, she'd tried again and again, until it became obvious nothing would change his mind about her.

"Fight for him," Lisa pleaded.

"Who do I fight? Cliff himself? How?"

"Wear him down," Lisa said. "Send him cards and letters."

"E-mails?" she suggested, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Lisa cried. "Do something—anything—and don't give up until you've broken through his defenses." She twisted sideways on the bench, sitting so she could face Grace. "But only if you sincerely love my father."

"I do," Grace assured her again. "I truly do."

"I felt you must—but I had to find out. I had to know for sure."

The two women hugged. Grace was so moved by the honesty and hopefulness of Lisa's words, she felt like weeping. "Oh, Lisa, I can't thank you enough."

"Don't let me down."

"I won't," she promised.

That very night, Grace wrote Cliff a long e-mail. She began by thanking him for the flowers and then told him how much their dinner date had meant to her. She said, in simple, straightforward sentences, that she missed him and thought of him often.

When she finished she reread the e-mail. In it, she shared her concern for Kelly and Paul and their struggles to have a second child. She wrote humorously about her trials with Sherlock, and how the kitten refused to be ignored, describing the inventive ways he pestered her until Grace lavished attention on him. This was Grace's own less-than-subtle way of telling Cliff she wouldn't go away, either. Not this time.

The next afternoon, during lunch, Grace walked down to the corner drugstore and purchased a handful of cards, some clever, a couple that had dramatic photos of horses, and a few romantic ones.

As soon as she got home from work, she hurried to her computer, animals in tow, and logged on to the Internet, hoping for a response from Cliff. Her heart fell when she found none.

"Did you think this would be easy?" she said to Buttercup. Sherlock scratched at her leg until Grace lifted him onto her lap. She petted him with one hand and typed with the other while she considered the possibilities. It could be that Cliff had deleted the e-mail without even opening it. Or decided to ignore it. Or perhaps he hadn't checked his messages lately.

She e-mailed him a second time and mailed off a card the following morning. Eventually she'd wear him down, as Lisa had said. Eventually he'd see she wasn't going away. She loved Cliff. He was the best thing in her life and she refused to give him up.

Thirty-Six

"Bob!" Peggy shouted from the foot of the stairs. "Phone!"

Bob laid down the script of Chicago—he'd been memorizing his lines—and walked to the top of the stairs. He'd been so intent on the scene, he hadn't even heard the phone ring.

"Who is it?" he called.

Wearing her "Kiss the Cook" apron, Peggy stood there looking up at him. "He didn't say."

Mumbling under his breath, Bob hurried to the master bedroom and picked up the phone. "Hello," he muttered impatiently.

"Robert Beldon? This is Colonel Stewart Samuels."

The crisp military tones went through Bob like an electrical charge. It was the voice of a man he'd hoped never to hear from again. The voice of the man who'd led him into battle. A soldier who'd stood with him in a Southeast Asian jungle. Who'd saved his life and then, at the same moment, robbed him of it.

"Yes." With difficulty he managed to respond.

"I'm going to be in the Seattle area in the next few weeks. We need to talk."

It'd been more than thirty years since Bob had last spoken with his commanding officer. He could go another thirty years and it would suit him just fine. So far, the only person in contact with Samuels had been Troy Davis. Bob would've preferred to keep it that way.

The colonel continued, giving the details of his trip to the Pacific Northwest. Bob stood rigid until the other man announced he intended to visit Cedar Cove.

"Is that necessary?" Bob demanded. Seattle was too close for comfort, but having him in Cedar Cove for any length of time was downright intimidating.

"I believe it is. There's a matter between us that requires resolution."

How formal he sounded. So cold-blooded and hard.

"Two of our comrades are dead, one a suicide and one murdered," he said. "I'm hoping we can figure this out, once and for all. Agreed?"