Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(73)
“Don’t you wonder how young parents can afford all this?” she mused aloud.
“They can’t. This is for grandmas to buy,” Cathy said with a smile. “After Andy was born, Andrew and I flew home to visit my parents, and they’d bought a crib for him to sleep in while we were there. A brand-new one! Andrew and I bought a secondhand crib that he painted white. I did the best I could with decals, but it didn’t look half as good as any of these. We got a real kick out of the fact that my parents had a brand-new crib and we had a used one.”
They left the mall after a couple of hours and no other purchases. Cathy needed to get back to pick up Andy. Cecilia headed home, then changed her mind and drove to the cemetery where Allison was buried.
Cecilia made sure the grave site was always well maintained. In the first year, she’d visited at least once a week and brought flowers. These days she didn’t come as frequently, but her daughter was never far from her thoughts.
Cecilia stooped down and with her gloved hands brushed some wet leaves from the grave marker. “Hello, sweetheart,” she whispered. “It’s Mommy and your little brother.” The baby moved inside her as if to add his own greeting. “Your daddy’s being stubborn again.” She nearly choked on the words, surprised by the emotion that rose inside her whenever she talked to Allison. “Don’t worry, though,” she whispered. “We’ll be all right.” She straightened, placing both hands on her lower back. A moment later, she returned to the car, her head bent against the February wind.
Thirty-Seven
Jack rolled his leather chair up to his desk and sighed at the sheer pleasure of getting back to work. Damn, this was where he belonged. He inhaled a deep breath, glancing around the busy newsroom.
Olivia had made a real stink about his returning to the office. He’d placated her as best he could and promised he’d work only a half day. If he wasn’t home by noon, he was afraid she’d send the sheriff after him. Troy Davis would do it, too. He’d probably delight in hauling Jack out of the office in full sight of any and all onlookers.
His assistant editor, Steve Fullerton, came up to his desk, carrying an insulated coffee cup. “Listen, Jack. I need to talk to you about the Lifestyle feature. We couldn’t get the photos and…” He grinned widely. “Hey, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thanks.” Jack was embarrassed by the fuss his staff had made. His desk was covered with flowers and cards, and they’d hung a banner overhead with gold letters that said Welcome Back. It was nice to know he’d been missed.
By ten, he was completely immersed in the routine of getting out a daily paper. It seemed as if he’d never been away. He wrote an editorial and praised the quick response of the local EMTs who’d saved his life. His fingers flew on the keyboard. He’d always composed his best editorials under time constraints; in fact, Jack had spent most of his career under the gun and thrived with the pressure—or so he’d once believed. This recent scare made him rethink that assumption.
At noon, the Lifestyle article had to be dumped, they needed to come up with something new and there was a one o’clock deadline. Olivia would be furious if he stayed longer than he’d promised. He weighed her anger against his inclination to pitch in with everyone else. Jack was still trying to decide what to do when Bob Beldon strolled in.
“Jack,” Bob said, heading straight for Jack’s desk. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by, see how you’re doing.”
Jack frowned. Bob just happened to be in the neighborhood. Not likely. He knew this visit was no accident. “Olivia sent you, didn’t she?”
A chagrined look spread over Bob’s face and he nodded.
“That’s what I figured.” Leave it to his wife.
“She said I was to drag you out of here kicking and screaming if necessary. You aren’t going to make me do that, are you?”
Jack groaned in protest, but Bob was the best friend he’d ever have in this life. He knew when he was beat. Grumbling under his breath, he turned off his computer, then stood and reached for his jacket. He just hoped his wife and his friend knew how hard it was for him to walk away in the middle of a crisis.
The staff looked on in disbelief. He’d never abandoned them, never left before every deadline was met, every detail attended to. Steve Fullerton actually started a round of applause, and Jack gave a mock bow, waving on his way out the door.
“See you tomorrow, old man,” Steve called. “Try to stay alive for another few days.”
Jack wouldn’t admit it, but he was exhausted. During his recovery, Olivia had insisted he take a nap every afternoon. In the beginning he’d defied her because he resented being “ordered around like a kid.” Little good that did him, since he fell asleep anyway, and always slept at least an hour.
“What am I supposed to do with myself now?” Jack muttered as he and Bob went to the parking lot.
“I thought I’d invite myself over so the two of us could play a few games of cribbage. It’s been a while.”
The last comment was a reminder that Jack had been working too hard for too long. The job hadn’t started out like that, and yet within five years he’d managed to work himself into a heart attack.
“Cribbage sounds like a fine idea,” Jack said. “Just promise to be gentle with me. My skills are pretty rusty.”