Lighthouse Road (Cedar Cove #1)(91)

Walking over to the park, Grace stopped long enough to pick up an order of chicken teriyaki from the Japanese restaurant across the street.

Most of the seating had already been taken. Grace stood and watched, delighting in the fact that so many people were enjoying the concert. A trio of women cavorted on the bandstand. Dressed in miniskirts, pageboy haircuts and pink feather boas, The Blondells performed the old Supremes hits from the ‘60s, and Grace found herself smiling at their energy and high-spirited fun.

“Grace!” Charlotte Jefferson raised her arm in order to attract Grace’s attention. Her best friend’s mother sat on the outer edge of a semi-circle of lawn chairs, with a blanket spread in front of her.

Grace made her way over to Charlotte, maneuvering slowly through the crowd.

“Sit here with me,” Charlotte invited. “I have something I want to discuss with you later, all right?”

“Sure.” Grateful for the invitation, Grace sat down on the blanket and leaned against one leg of Charlotte’s chair. Her back would start to ache soon, but she would enjoy this as long as she could.

“This is such good music,” Charlotte announced when the intermission was announced.

“It’s fabulous,” Grace agreed.

“You know, I was just thinking of you the other day,” Charlotte said. “I have something for you.”

“Me?”

“I talked it over with Olivia, and she thinks it’s a good idea. Exactly what you needed, she said.”

Grace was intrigued.

“A friend of mine, a good friend, has a wonderful companion, and well, she’s moving to a retirement complex and needs to find a home for Buttercup.”

“Buttercup?”

“Harry’s been such a loyal friend, and seeing that you’re alone, I thought…” Charlotte looked uncertain. “I did plan to ask you first, but as I recall you’ve had dogs in the past.”

Dan had loved his dogs, and throughout their marriage they’d had a number of family pets. Two years ago, their small cocker mix had died peacefully in his sleep and Dan had decided they wouldn’t have any more animals.

“What kind of dog is Buttercup?” she asked.

“A golden retriever.”

“I’d love a dog,” Grace said decisively. “I really would.”

Charlotte rubbed her hands together. “I’m so pleased. Olga’s been terribly worried about finding a good home for her dog. I knew you were the right person.”

“I’d be happy to take Buttercup over to visit Olga now and then, if that would put her mind at ease.”

“Oh, Grace, what a thoughtful gesture. Olga would be so appreciative.”

That weekend, the golden retriever became part of Grace’s life. She wasn’t sure how well the dog would adapt to a new environment, but the moment Grace brought her into the house, it was as if Buttercup recognized it as her home and prepared to settle in.

“Well, Buttercup,” she said, releasing her from the leash. “What do you think?”

With her tail wagging, the golden retriever examined each room, paused in the middle of the living room and then jumped into the old recliner that had been Dan’s chair. Dark eyes watching Grace, she rested her chin on her paws.

Grace couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing. Of all the places for Buttercup to claim as her own, she’d chosen Dan’s chair. Somehow she’d instinctively known that space was available.

“We’re going to be good friends, aren’t we, Buttercup?” Grace murmured to the dog.

This, too, Buttercup appeared to understand.

Grace poured herself a cup of coffee, reached for a crossword puzzle book and settled down in the chair next to that of her newfound friend and companion.

Life continued without Dan. He’d apparently found someone else and—Grace smiled over at Buttercup—so had she.

Eighteen

Olivia felt good. Better than good. She felt confident, successful, at the height of her powers. She’d put in a fabulous day in court, and, since summer was now apparently in full bloom, she intended to enjoy what remained of her afternoon.

This was perfect weather for sitting at a café along the waterfront and enjoying a bottle of wine and some delectable Hood Canal shrimp. She could think of no one she’d enjoy doing that with more than Jack Griffin.

He’d proved to be delightful company. In the three weeks since the Fourth of July picnic, they’d attended a political rally, on which Jack had written an article. Then she’d tagged along while he interviewed the lady who crocheted beautiful tablecloths for the Saturday Farmers’ Market. That article had appeared in Wednesday’s edition of The Cedar Cove Chronicle. Last Friday night, Jack had taken her to dinner at Willcox House, a B-and-B in Seabeck that Bob and Peggy Beldon had recommended. The house boasted a room Clark Gable had once stayed in, and the food was incredible. Once again, Jack was writing an article. It was high time they went out just for pleasure, she decided, instead of combining it with business.

Leaning back in her office chair, she reached for the phone and punched out his number. “Hi,” she said when he picked up.

“Hi, yourself. To what do I owe this pleasure?” He sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her.

“I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”