Pelican Court (Cedar Cove #3)(22)

Olivia unfolded her arms and stroked Buttercup’s silky head. “Actually, Stan started it. He wants me to have dinner with him in Seattle on Friday night.”

Grace arched her eyebrows. “Why Seattle?”

“He’s got a corporate dinner he’s required to attend and he didn’t want to go alone. He has a hotel room and—”

“One room?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “He seems to think I’m too naive to know what he’s got in mind. Oh sure, the room will have two beds, but I wasn’t born yesterday and I know Stanley Lockhart. He has plans.”

“What about Jack?”

“The flowers arrived,” she said dreamily. “Grace, after all these weeks, I have to tell you I was so pleased to get them.”

Grace was equally thrilled. Although it had taken Jack long enough…. “What did the card say?”

Olivia dropped her gaze. “He signed his name. That’s all.”

Smart man. “In other words, he made the first move and the rest is up to you?”

“Exactly.”

“You phoned him?”

She nodded. “I did, and he answered on the first ring—almost as if he’d been sitting there waiting for me to call. It felt wonderful to talk to him again. We were getting along famously until—” Her eyes narrowed and she heaved a deep sigh.

“Until what?”

“He asked me to dinner on Friday night, and I made the mistake of saying there must be something in the air because I was getting dinner invitations right and left.”

Not the most brilliant comment, Grace agreed, but Olivia already knew that.

“It took Jack about two seconds to realize the other invitation came from Stan. Then he got all weird on me and said he was busy on Friday, after all. He wished me a lovely evening with Stan, and before I could say another word, he made some excuse and was off the phone.”

Grace wanted to groan out loud.

Olivia’s shoulders sank. “Now you know why I’m upset.”

“You aren’t going to dinner with Stan, are you?” Grace asked, just to be sure.

“Not hardly,” Olivia muttered.

“I’m free Friday night. Want to go to the movies?”

Olivia laughed. “You’re on, my friend. Who needs men, anyway?”

Maybe, Grace decided, she’d find a way to get Jack Griffin to the theater on Friday evening. Apparently there were times when romance could use a helping hand.

Rosie finished writing out the words her second-graders had to copy. She set the worn chalk down on the blackboard ledge and brushed the dust from her hands.

The bell rang, indicating class was dismissed for the day. “Don’t forget to remind your parents that Open House is tonight,” she told the students. Open House introduced the teacher to the parents, and it usually occurred in the third week of September.

The children leaped up from their desks, grabbed their bags and backpacks, then dashed out. All except Jolene Peyton. The little girl with the long dark pigtails wore a forlorn look as she walked, head bowed, to the front of the room.

“Can I help you, Jolene?” Rosie asked gently.

The little girl kept her eyes lowered. “Only my daddy can come tonight.”

“That’s wonderful. I look forward to meeting him.”

Jolene slowly raised her head until her eyes met Rosie’s. “My mommy died in a car accident.”

“I know, sweetheart, and I’m so sorry.” Rosie’s heart went out to the motherless little girl.

“Every week Daddy and I put flowers by the road where she died.”

Rosie knew that, too. The flowers and balloons often caught her eye at the busy intersection.

“Well, I’m glad your father’s coming to the Open House,” Rosie said.

Jolene nodded. “He said it was one of those things Mommy would do if she was still here.”

Rosie tucked her arm around the seven-year-old’s shoulder. It was apparent even now, almost two years after the accident, that Jolene missed her mother.

“I told my daddy that I need a mommy, and he said he’d think about it.” She sighed deeply. “He says that a lot.”

So did she, Rosie thought with a grin. “I’ll think about it,” was in every mother’s repertoire.

That evening as the classroom started to fill with parents, Rosie made it a point to seek out Jolene’s father. The little girl led him into the classroom, then rushed to bring him juice and cookies from the table set up at the front.

While he waited for his daughter, Bruce Peyton stood in the background, not mingling with the other parents. He was nice-looking, but he had a somber air about him, a remoteness, which was perfectly understandable. School events such as this evening’s must be a painful reminder that he was alone. He was of average height and on the thin side. His clothes hung loose on him. Rosie could only assume this was due to a recent weight loss. His eyes were an intense blue, compelling her to steal glances in his direction.

It’d been many years—decades—since Rosie had really looked at another man. Her flirting skills had rusted from lack of use, although she was confident Janice Lamond could teach her a thing or two.

When Rosie was free she made her way toward Bruce. She smiled and held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Rosie Cox, Jolene’s teacher. I just want to say I’m very sorry about your wife.”