Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(91)
Stan paused when he saw the dining-room table, piled high with plates, cups, glasses and serving bowls. “I, uh, might need some help.”
“I’ll volunteer,” Seth offered.
“No,” Olivia insisted. “Justine’s exhausted. Take her home so she won’t be too worn-out for tomorrow.” The grand opening of The Lighthouse was scheduled that week, and tomorrow was an Open House for the Chamber of Commerce. After spending ten hours today preparing for the Open House, the couple needed some rest. Thankfully, Justine had left her job at the bank, and Seth no longer worked at the marina.
Olivia hugged them both, and shuffled her daughter and son-in-law toward the door. James joined the little group to say goodbye. “Hey, I think it’s great that you two are opening a restaurant,” he said, walking out with them.
Olivia hurried to the kitchen, rolling up her long silk sleeves as she went. She saw that Stan had cleared the table, while Charlotte had picked up her knitting and begun watching “Jeopardy,” her favorite television game show.
In the kitchen, Olivia discovered the sink filled with sudsy water for the pots and pans.
“You don’t need to do this,” she told Stan.
“I want to.” He stacked plates and cutlery in the dishwasher and she put the leftovers in containers, storing them in the refrigerator.
“I’d forgotten how good your stuffed green peppers are.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed them.”
He grew quiet then. She found his somberness a little unexpected after all the happy chatter during dinner and afterward.
“I guess I might as well tell you,” he suddenly said, his back to her as he rinsed off dishes.
“Tell me what?” She laughed. “Marge is leaving you?” She smiled at her own joke.
“Yes—sort of.” The laughter had drained from his eyes. “Marge and I are separating.”
Olivia couldn’t hide her shock. Her silly, flippant remark had been correct. “Oh, Stan, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, I am too.”
“Why are you—” She raised her hand. “No, it isn’t necessary for me to know. I just didn’t expect this.”
“Neither did I.” He returned his attention to the dishes. “It’s been a pretty rough year for us, and we decided last week that it would be best all the way around if we took a break from each other.”
Olivia couldn’t think of anything to say.
Reaching for a towel, Stan wiped his hands, keeping his eyes lowered. “This evening with James and Justine here, seeing both our children so happy and so much in love—I don’t know, something happened.”
“Happened?”
“I’m not sure how to explain it. We’re grandparents, Olivia, and we’re about to become grandparents a second time.”
“Yes…”
“Sitting at the table with our children made me realize how badly I wish I could undo the past. I wish you and I were a couple again.”
“Oh, Stan…”
“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. It hit me between the eyes at dinner. You and I always belonged together. I made a terrible mistake when I left you, and I can’t help regretting it.”
A hundred times over the years, Olivia too had regretted the divorce. Had she been stronger, better able to deal with Jordan’s death, she would have fought to keep the marriage, the family, together. But it was too late to recover something that now belonged to the past. Olivia recognized this, and in his heart, so did Stan. She was sure of it.
Seventeen
Maryellen was impressed with The Lighthouse. Justine and Seth had done a first-class job with the renovations to The Captain’s Galley. Her mother had attended the function with her and was sipping wine, talking to Olivia in a corner of the restaurant. Apparently they had a lot to talk about, because their heads had been together from the moment Grace arrived.
The hors d’oeuvres on their silver platters were laid out on long tables draped in white linen. Anticipating a feast, Maryellen had eaten sparingly all day and was famished. Taking a salad-sized china plate, she stood in the buffet line and chatted with other members of the Chamber of Commerce.
The expression might be clichéd, but Justine truly looked radiant, Maryellen thought as she watched the husband-and-wife team greet their guests. She and Justine had talked about their pregnancies and learned they were due to deliver a few weeks apart. They’d known each other their entire lives, but other than the fact that their mothers were best friends, they didn’t have a lot in common. For one thing, Maryellen was seven years older and in childhood that was significant. Justine had been in fifth grade when Maryellen graduated from high school.
In the years since, life had taken them in opposite directions. Only now that they were both pregnant and having their babies close together had they spent any significant time together. They regularly compared notes about their pregnancies and had recently taken a day to shop for baby furniture.
Maryellen sat at one of the newly upholstered booths and made small talk with Virginia Logan, who owned the bookstore two doors down from the Harbor Street Gallery. As they discussed the town council’s motion to arrange stone planters along the main streets, Justine approached.
“Maryellen,” she said, holding out her hand. “And Virginia. I’m so glad you came.”