Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(47)

“How about a walk along the waterfront? The sun’s out and a leisurely stroll would do us both good.”

Grace agreed; it seemed like a reasonable compromise. “Let me check with Loretta first.”

Her assistant was more than willing to switch lunch hours. Grace gathered her coat and gloves and met him in front of the library. Cliff was studying the mural when she joined him. The painting was a favorite of hers; the artist had depicted a late 1800s waterfront scene with a family picnicking in the background.

“How was your visit with Lisa?” she asked. From previous conversations, Grace had learned that his daughter was twenty-eight and married to a financial advisor in Maryland.

“Wonderful. She asked me if I was dating yet.” He looked meaningfully in her direction.

“What did you tell her?” Grace asked. She buried her hands in the pockets of her long wool coat and matched her pace to his as they walked toward the gazebo and picnic area. The grandstand was where the Concerts on the Cove were staged each Thursday night during the summer. Now, in mid-December, the whole park was bleak and empty. Their only company was a bevy of seagulls who circled above looking for a handout. Their piercing, discordant cries echoed across the waterfront.

“I told Lisa not yet, but I’d picked out the girl.” Again he studied Grace. “I’m just waiting for the girl to notice me.”

Notice him? Grace nearly laughed out loud. She’d noticed Cliff, all right. But she stood frozen with one foot in her old life and the other unwillingly thrust into a new one.

“Are you going to keep me waiting long, Grace Sherman?”

She wished she had an answer for him.

“Don’t say anything,” Cliff said. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to press you.” He exhaled, and his breath created a fog in the cold, crisp air. “You asked about my visit with Lisa and I can tell you it was definitely an experience.”

“How so?”

“The day after I arrived, a blizzard hit.”

“I heard about that on the news,” Grace said, remembering the report of the snowstorm that had struck the East Coast Thanksgiving Week. “Did you lose your electricity?”

“Right in the middle of cooking Thanksgiving dinner. Naturally, the turkey was only partially done. I suggested we serve sushi turkey but no one seemed interested.”

“What did you do?”

“What any enterprising soul would. The turkey got barbecued in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Grace laughed, picturing Cliff huddled over a barbecue with wind and snow whirling all around.

“How about your Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“It was quiet with just me and Maryellen.” She gnawed on her lower lip, wondering if she should mention Dan’s phone calls. In the end, she didn’t. Then, feeling guilty and uneasy about what she had to say to him, she sank onto the edge of a picnic bench. “Listen, Cliff, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“What? Us taking a walk?”

“No…Your daughter’s anxious for you to get out into the dating world again and you appear to be ready. I want you to start, but I don’t think it’s right for me just yet.”

He frowned as if she’d completely missed the point. “What you apparently don’t understand, Grace, is that the only woman I’m interested in dating is you.”

Grace shook her head. “Come on, Cliff—I don’t believe that. Ask Charlotte to recommend someone. She knows just about everyone in town and once you’ve met a few other women, you can decide if you still feel the same way.”

His frown was back in place. “You’re not the jealous type, I take it?”

A year earlier her response would have been automatic. There wasn’t a jealous bone in her body, she would’ve said. She couldn’t say that any longer. Until a few months ago, she hadn’t viewed herself as possessive. Then she’d learned that Dan had been seen with another woman. Afterward she’d been filled with such rage that she’d torn the bedroom apart and dumped his entire half of the closet outside. Dan’s clothes had been strewn across the front porch and the yard.

“I don’t know about that,” she told him. “I think most people are capable of jealousy. Anyway, I want you to promise me you’ll at least consider meeting other women. It’ll be good for you, Cliff.” Good for her, too, perhaps.

He walked over to the middle of the large gazebo, stood there a moment, then purposefully strolled back. “Okay. I considered it.”

Grace laughed, shaking her head. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

“Oh, but I am.” Cliff sat down on the bench beside her. “I don’t want to see any other woman, Grace. I’ll wait for you. Like I told you before, I’m a patient man. Don’t worry, I’m not going to pressure you, but I might give you a gentle reminder every now and then.”

Grace didn’t know why he remained persistent. She hadn’t given him any encouragement. And so far, she’d been the only one to benefit from this relationship—she and her garage door.

“I’d like to show you my place someday,” Cliff said. “You and Charlotte can both come. In fact, I’d enjoy it if you would. It’d be completely nonthreatening,” he said with a grin. “You can even bring Buttercup if you want.”