Pelican Court (Cedar Cove #3)(81)

They spoke for a few more minutes, Olivia promising to call Grace with an update that evening. As soon as court was over for the day, she drove directly to the newspaper. The Cedar Cove Chronicle office was situated on Cedar Cove Drive, toward Southworth, where Washington state ferries transported cars and passengers to Vashon Island and West Seattle.

Once she’d parked, Olivia lost her nerve. She was part of a generation raised to believe that men did the inviting. Etiquette dictated certain procedures, and even though many of those rules were outdated in today’s world, they were so ingrained, Olivia had a hard time ignoring them.

Well, she’d come here for a reason, and she was determined to see it through. She marched purposefully into the office, only to discover he was in a meeting.

“I’ll get him if you like,” the receptionist told her.

“Ah…” Thankfully Olivia didn’t have time to formulate a response.

The door to the back office opened and Jack walked out, wearing a preoccupied frown. But the instant he saw her, his eyes brightened and his step quickened. “Olivia!”

Jack’s delight at seeing her seemed to infuse him with energy, and Olivia felt gratified. He held out his hands to her. “This is a surprise.”

“I’m looking for a Valentine,” she announced. “Are you interested?”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, except…”

“What?” If he told her he already had a date, she’d hit him with her purse.

“I take it you want to go someplace other than the Taco Shack for dinner?”

“I like the Taco Shack, but…” It occurred to her then that Jack was nervous. He was afraid he wouldn’t meet her expectations. She also knew he wasn’t about to admit it.

“All right, the Taco Shack is out.” He paused, as though searching his limited repertoire of restaurants. “There’s always The Lighthouse, right?”

“Why don’t you let me make the reservations,” she suggested.

Jack grinned slyly in her direction. “Are you romancing me, Olivia?”

“I am.” She couldn’t see any reason to deny it. “So, are you interested or not?”

“You bet I am.” He draped his arm around her shoulder. “Can you have dinner with me tonight, too?”

“Taco Shack?” she asked.

Jack nodded. “They make a mean enchilada.”

“And I make a mean chicken pot pie,” she said, tempting him with her cooking. Jack ate far too many meals in restaurants. “See you in an hour?”

Jack nodded. “I’ve got some work to finish up. How about two hours?”

“That sounds great,” she said. Her spirits soared as she drove home, planning the rest of her menu.

Jack was only ten minutes late, and by then she had salad made, the table set and the pie waiting on top of the stove. She greeted him with an enthusiastic kiss. Sliding his arms around her waist, he held her a moment longer than necessary.

“I could get used to this,” Jack said, following her into the kitchen. The chicken pie smelled savory and enticing, the crust a perfect golden-brown.

“So could I,” she confessed.

Jack had intended to go back to the office, but he stayed instead, and they cuddled up on the sofa and watched television. At eleven, Olivia reluctantly kissed him good-night at the door, then wandered into her bedroom, feeling contented and relaxed. She looked forward to another evening like this one; they’d be having dinner again soon, on Valentine’s Day, and she was already thinking about possible restaurants.

When she woke the next morning, it was because she’d heard a noise. Then she heard it again. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Frowning, Olivia sat up in bed. Reaching for her housecoat at the end of the bed, she slipped her arms into the sleeves, then hurried downstairs.

To her dismay, she found Stan sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the Seattle morning paper. After the divorce, she hadn’t bothered to change the locks, but she couldn’t believe that, all these years later, Stan still had a key. Perhaps she’d forgotten to lock the door when she said goodbye to Jack.

“Stan!”

“Morning,” he said, as if he sat in her kitchen each and every day.

“What are you doing here?”

He set the coffee mug down. “Sorry if I startled you. I was in the neighborhood.”

Olivia was so furious she could barely speak. How dared he enter her home without permission!

“Did you get my roses?” he asked.

Olivia ignored the question. “What are you doing in my home?” She emphasized the fact that this house was hers; he no longer had any rights to it. Or to her…

He gave her that hurt-little-boy look she knew so well. “You’re upset, aren’t you?” he said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to sneak into my home like…like a thief.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed. “I apologize, Olivia. Now, please, don’t be angry with me. You know I hate it when you’re angry.”

Olivia refused to fall victim to his cajoling. “I don’t want it to happen again. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” he said, then smiled as though she was the most enthralling woman in the world. “Now, tell me, did you receive the roses?”