Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(79)

“I’ve dreamed about us there, overlooking the Cove, making love.”

The phone rang five more times before it finally stopped.

The silence seemed louder than the ringing phone. Olivia took his face between her hands and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Does this have anything to do with Stan?” she asked, needing to know.

They’d argued over Stan, and in her opinion, Jack was being utterly unreasonable. He seemed to think Stan wanted her back—which would be news to Marge, who’d been married to him for more than fifteen years.

“No,” he said, kissing her. “It has to do with you and me. Leave Stan out of it.”

“Why now?”

“Why not now?” he countered.

She wasn’t sure how to reply. As she tried to think clearly, to emerge from the fog of kisses and music, the doorbell rang. Saved by the bell—again.

When she hurried to open the door she found Jack’s son, looking flustered, still leaning on the doorbell. “Dad?” he shouted urgently.

“Eric, what is it?” Jack asked, appearing behind Olivia.

“Shelly. She’s in labor. She doesn’t have anyone.”

“She phoned you?”

“No, a friend did. Her water broke last night and she’s about to deliver. Could be anytime now. Her friend couldn’t stay.” He paused. “I should be there, don’t you think? She might need me.”

“True,” Jack agreed.

“But she doesn’t want me around, at least that’s what she said the last time we spoke.” He splayed his fingers through his hair. “I should be there. I feel it.”

“Then go.”

“I’m packed up, ready to leave for Reno.”

“Yes, I know.”

Eric seemed to be asking something and Olivia knew what it was, even if Jack didn’t. “Do you want your father to go with you?”

“Would you, Dad?”

Olivia loved Jack even more for the way he responded. He hugged his son, cast Olivia an apologetic look and said, “Let’s go.” He turned back to her and stretched out his hand. “Want to tag along?”

She considered it for a moment, then decided against it. “You two go on. Call me when the babies are born.” Pleased that Jack had placed his son’s needs above his own, she took his hand in hers and gave him an encouraging squeeze.

Three hours later, her phone rang and it was Jack, calling from the hospital. “Identical twin boys,” he said triumphantly. “Eric stayed with Shelly, and she was happy he came to be with her. Both boys are strong and healthy.”

“Congratulations, Grandpa.”

“I am their grandfather,” he said. “Those babies are the spitting image of Eric. No one’s going to doubt who their father is again. Especially my son.”

“What’s he going to do about his job?” Eric had accepted the transfer and was expected to start at his new job in Reno in a week or so.

“I don’t know, that’s up to him. Fortunately he’s got a few days before he has to decide.”

Seth and Justine had decided to call their restaurant The Lighthouse. Justine liked the name because it reminded her of the home where she’d grown up, on Lighthouse Road

. The lighthouse at the far end of the cove was one of the community’s most distinctive landmarks. Seth seconded the name because it underlined the fact that this was a seafood restaurant.

The idea of opening a restaurant had been in the back of his mind for years, but he loved fishing and the money was too good to turn down. Living aboard the sailboat, his expenses had been minimal and he’d invested wisely. After he’d married Justine, he realized that the long separations fishing demanded no longer appealed to him. Now, with a baby on the way, the time was right to start his new business.

His father agreed and offered to invest in the restaurant as a silent partner. It was a bold move on both their parts. Seth had done his research and was well aware that almost half of new restaurants failed in their first year. He was determined to minimize the risks, to do everything right. Menu, staff, prices, décor, promotion—he and Justine had thought everything through. Seth was a decent cook, but he didn’t have the expertise and knowledge that running a full kitchen would require. He advertised for kitchen staff and asked other restaurant owners for advice. He soon learned that Jon Bowman had an excellent reputation. When Jon applied for the position, of chef, Seth studied his resumé, then called and asked for an interview.

On the second Friday of March, Jon Bowman arrived, walking into the ongoing construction mess.

The renovations were only partially finished. A crew of carpenters were constructing new booths while electricians hung the light fixtures. The floors had been sanded and refinished, the walls had their first coat of paint and the windows had been replaced. Seth and Justine had decided to keep the original mahogany bar, which was a classic.

Seth led Jon into the room that would be his office and gestured toward the chair. “I like what you’ve done,” Jon said as he sat down. “When are you planning to open?”

“We’re hoping for the first week in May.”

Jon glanced over his shoulder as though to estimate how much still needed to be done. “Everything should be finished by then,” he said confidently.