Lighthouse Road (Cedar Cove #1)(31)

Jack grinned as if to say he’d find it a distinct pleasure to work with her. “All right,” Charlotte muttered, thinking she needed her head examined for taking on another project. “I’ll do it, but I’ve got to have help.”

“We’ll all help,” Laura promised.

“Bring your ideas to me,” Jack said, “and we’ll work on them together.”

Those few words were all the incentive Charlotte required. She wanted to encourage Jack’s relationship with her daughter and she could think of no better opportunity to provide him with information about Olivia. Her daughter needed a little assistance. This wasn’t so different from the way things had been when Olivia was a shy teenager and Charlotte had spoken to Betty Nelson about having her son ask Olivia to the Junior Prom. Olivia never knew that the date had been arranged between the two mothers, and what her daughter didn’t know hadn’t hurt her.

Delighted with this turn of events, Charlotte enjoyed her lunch. All too soon, Jack had to move to the head table. The second he was out of earshot, Charlotte leaned toward her friends. “Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

Everyone agreed. The knitting group loved him. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that he’d chosen to eat at their table, either. Charlotte’s stock had gone up considerably.

“He’s dating my daughter, you know,” she announced. It was difficult not to gloat.

“Jack’s dating Olivia?” Laura’s eyes widened.

“Yes, and as far as I’m concerned, they’re perfect together.” Charlotte had high hopes for this relationship. Very high hopes, indeed.

“He’s a good man,” Bess whispered. “But a bit rough around the edges, don’t you think?”

“How do you mean?” Charlotte instantly took Jack’s side. He might not be the smoothest dresser in town, but he was honest, open-minded and he valued their opinions. This was the first time anyone from the newspaper had taken their suggestions seriously.

“I don’t know.” Bess shrugged, and reached for her knitting. “Don’t misunderstand me, I like Mr. Griffin, but I believe there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

“Do you want me to check him out on the Internet?” Evelyn asked, lowering her voice to a husky whisper.

“That’s ridiculous,” Charlotte muttered. The former schoolteacher had taken a computer class, and ever since, she’d been downright obnoxious, forever expounding on what she could find out about a person’s background. Evelyn fancied herself a private investigator, Charlotte thought sourly.

Before anything more could be said, Mary Berger introduced Jack, and he stepped to the podium, looking completely at ease.

Charlotte found Jack’s talk fascinating. He started by recounting his first visit to Cedar Cove and his impressions of the town. Bob Beldon had mentioned that The Cedar Cove Chronicle was planning to hire a new editor. It was Jack’s luck to arrive the weekend of the Annual Seagull Calling Contest, he said, and his retelling of the day had the entire room in hysterics.

His talk was one of the most entertaining they’d ever had. Those thirty minutes passed quickly.

The seniors gave him a standing ovation.

“Did you notice,” Bess said, whispering in Charlotte’s ear when they stood to applaud him, “he didn’t tell us a single detail about his own background?”

“Yes, he did,” Charlotte argued, then realized her friend was right. Well, she didn’t care. Where he’d lived and worked before moving to Cedar Cove wasn’t important. She’d always been a good judge of character, and her instincts told her she could trust Jack Griffin. Besides, Olivia had said Jack was from the Spokane area.

Later, however, Charlotte decided she was curious. Bess and Laura were right; one could never be too careful. Besides, her daughter was involved now, and that meant she had an obligation to dig up whatever she could.

On the pretext of finding out more about the Seniors’ Page in The Cedar Cove Chronicle, Charlotte stopped at The Chronicle headquarters next to the Laundromat on Seaview Drive. She hadn’t been inside the newspaper office in years.

The building was new, and it saddened her to see a neat row of desks with computer screens. She longed for the days when the scent of ink hung in the air and reporters yelled into phones and kept bottles of booze in their bottom drawers. Like in those 1940s movies. Or maybe she was thinking of Lou Grant. They didn’t make newsmen like that anymore. Jack Griffin, however, passed muster.

Jack came out of his office to greet her personally. “Did you enjoy the talk yesterday?”

“Very much,” she assured him. “But I was disappointed not to learn more about you.”

“Me?” He laughed lightly. “What’s interesting about me?”

“Your newspaper history,” she elaborated.

He rattled off a number of newspapers he’d worked for over the years. The towns and positions sounded impressive. When he’d finished, he waited as if he expected her to respond.

“Well,” Charlotte said, and sighed. “That does sound grand.”

“And boring. Which is why I gave a talk I hoped would be more entertaining. I’m sorry to hear you were disappointed.”

“Oh, not me,” she was quick to tell him. It was her suspicious friends—who didn’t know Jack the way she did.