Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(27)

“Would you care to join us?” Maryellen asked, ignoring the daggers her mother was shooting at her.

“Grace?”

Her mother hesitated only briefly. “By all means.” She looked at her watch as if to gauge how much of her lunch hour was left. “I’ll need to leave in a few minutes, anyway.”

“Nonsense,” Maryellen challenged. “We ordered no more than three minutes ago.”

Cliff sat at the end of the booth, setting his cowboy hat on the empty space next to Grace.

“It’s a little early for you to be having lunch, isn’t it?” her mother asked pointedly.

Cliff smiled wryly. “The truth is, I drove by and saw you and Maryellen in the window. I figured if you weren’t going to answer my phone calls, the best thing to do was talk to you in person.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorrier than you know about that night,” he said with sincerity.

So Maryellen was right. Cliff knew what he’d done and was trying to make amends.

“I was hoping you’d be willing to give me another opportunity.” His eyes pleaded with Grace. “I’d still like you to come out to the ranch for dinner,” he said in a rush.

Grace seemed to waver. “I—I don’t know.”

Maryellen wanted to shake her mother. “I’m sure she’d enjoy that very much,” she said firmly and ignored the kick as her mother’s shoe connected with her shin.

Maryellen nearly laughed aloud at the shuffling of their feet beneath the table.

In the meantime, Elaine brought Cliff a teacup and a menu. He accepted the tea, but declined lunch.

The small interruption was followed by an uncomfortable silence. “When would you like Mom to come over?” she asked.

“Maryellen!” Her mother’s protest was accompanied by a glare. “I’m sure Cliff has more important things to attend to than making me dinner.”

“I’d like to do it,” he countered, a smile twitching at the edges of his mouth.

“What date were you thinking of?” Maryellen was finding pleasure in this. It was a fitting turnabout, considering all the times Grace had tried to match her up after her divorce. She’d resented it back then, never suspecting that the day would come when she’d play matchmaker for her own mother.

“Thanksgiving,” Cliff said.

That astonished them both, and they stared at him.

“Thanksgiving,” Grace repeated softly. “I’m sorry, I already have an invitation.” She sent a triumphant look in Maryellen’s direction.

“To my house,” Maryellen said. Feeling she needed to explain the situation to Cliff, she added, “Kelly’s going to be at her in-laws’, so Mom was planning to join Jon, Katie and me.”

“Aren’t you flying out to be with Lisa?” Grace asked.

“Lisa was here earlier in the year,” Cliff said, and of course Grace knew that. “I thought I’d stay home. I don’t pretend to be much of a cook, but I can probably manage a turkey and fixings.”

Maryellen watched the lowering of her mother’s guard. No matter how hard Grace tried to convince herself the relationship was over, she couldn’t do it. In a matter of minutes, her resolve was visibly crumbling.

“I appreciate the invitation,” her mother said, her eyes warm with longing, “but I’m already committed to my daughter.”

“Mom, it’s all right, really. Jon and I won’t mind.”

“Nonsense,” Cliff said quickly. “I was hoping Maryellen, Jon and the baby would come, too.”

Grace met Maryellen’s eyes.

Maryellen felt a sense of satisfaction steal over her. “I’ll have to check with Jon, of course, but I imagine he’d enjoy the opportunity not to cook this Thanksgiving.”

“Then you’ll both be joining Cal and me,” Cliff said, as he got to his feet. He reached for his hat and when he smiled, it seemed to Maryellen that there was a new lightness in his expression. His habitual look was one of gravity and she’d rarely seen this kind of…elation on his face before.

She noticed that her mother was smiling, too.

Fourteen

The ringing of the phone destroyed the calm of the afternoon. Corrie reached for it on the second ring. “Roy McAfee’s office,” she said in her professional voice.

The lack of response caught her attention. “This is Roy McAfee’s office,” she repeated.

Silence again.

Sighing, she replaced the phone. When she looked up, Roy was standing in the doorway leading to his office, his arms crossed. He glowered at the phone as if it were guilty of some unspeakable crime.

“How many hang-ups have we had in the last couple of weeks?” he asked.

Corrie hadn’t counted them. “Two or three,” she said, but she knew it was more. She shrugged, making light of it. “I think the phone company must’ve issued a number similar to ours to a pizza parlor or something.”

“How many hang-ups did we get in October?”

“Oh, honestly, Roy, you don’t expect me to remember that, do you?”

His eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, I do. I don’t know anyone who has a better mind for details. How many, Corrie?”

She swallowed hard. “None.”