Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(32)

“I can only imagine how Corrie’s going to react,” Grace said. “Remember how upset she was when she found out Linnette was leaving town?”

“I would’ve been upset, too.” Olivia sympathized with Corrie.

“The reason Linnette left was so she wouldn’t run into Cal. She didn’t want to see him, especially with Vicki,” Grace added.

“And now Cal leaves the area anyway. Vicki, too.”

“It’s hard to look people in the face when you’ve been humiliated,” Grace said quietly. “I know that from experience.”

Olivia shook her head. “So, when are they going?”

“Soon. It puts Cliff in a difficult position. He’s going to be shorthanded until January, when he can hire someone else.”

“Will he be able to manage?”

“I guess so.” Grace shrugged and sipped her tea. “We’d already agreed to house the animals for the live Nativity scene, but Cliff doesn’t seem worried about that. I told him I’d do what I could to help.”

“So Cal’s leaving before Christmas.”

Grace nodded. “Apparently Vicki’s sold her share of the practice and they’re ready to go.”

“I suppose Cedar Cove will get a new vet.”

“It seems that way,” Grace said. “From what Cliff said, Cal and Vicki are going to California, where Vicki has family, and they’ll be married there.”

“I wish them the best,” Olivia said. She also wished Linnette hadn’t been hurt, but it was too late to avoid that now.

Corrie had told her Linnette was seeing someone in the small North Dakota town where she’d ended up. She seemed to be happy, according to her mother, and Olivia certainly hoped that was the case.

“What’s that?” Grace asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and staring at the floor behind Olivia.

“What’s what?” Olivia echoed, glancing over her shoulder.

Grace stood and walked over to the kitchen sink. There, lying on the mat, was a man’s wristwatch. “This,” she said, picking it up.

“Oh, Pastor Flemming’s lost his watch.” Olivia might not have recognized it if the same thing hadn’t happened earlier.

“Pastor Flemming?” Grace frowned, studying the back of the watch. “That’s not the name inscribed here. It says, ‘Micah Evans. June 23, 1977 for Thirty Years of Loyal Service.’”

“Micah Evans must be some relative,” Olivia speculated. He’d been concerned about losing the watch when it fell off his wrist the first time. It obviously held some emotional significance for him.

Grace continued to frown. “Evans…Evans,” she repeated slowly. “For some reason, that name sticks in my mind.”

“It doesn’t in mine,” Olivia said. “I’d better call to tell him I have his watch, otherwise he’ll wonder.” He’d behaved oddly and seemed almost sorry that she’d seen it. “There appears to be something wrong with the clasp.”

Olivia pulled the telephone directory from the kitchen drawer and set it on the counter, opening it to the Fs.

“Are you calling the church office?” Grace asked as Olivia scanned the listings.

“I thought I’d try his house first,” Olivia said. “He said he’d be out all day. If I contact the church office, he won’t get the message until tomorrow morning, if then. I’ll get in touch with his wife. Let me see. Flemming, D. 8 Sandpiper Way.”

Olivia punched in the number, and Emily Flemming answered on the second ring.

“Dave’s gold watch?” she said when Olivia had identified herself and explained why she was calling.

“Yes, it fell off his wrist while he was here visiting.”

“Oh.” The pastor’s wife sounded tearful.

“I just found it,” Olivia said, “or I would’ve called before.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Emily Flemming whispered. “Goodbye.”

Olivia hung up the phone with the oddest sensation. “Something isn’t right between Dave and Emily Flemming,” she announced.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not sure. Intuition, I guess.” She clapped the phone book shut. “But mark my words, that relationship is in trouble.”

Twelve

Emily Flemming hung up the phone after her conversation with Judge Griffin and for a long moment didn’t move. She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste her own blood. The news about the lost watch bothered her, but that wasn’t the most upsetting detail.

Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t moved.

“Mom!” The front door opened and Matthew slammed into the house. “I’m home,” he yelled. His backpack slid from his shoulders and fell unceremoniously to the kitchen floor.

The door opened again as Mark came rushing in. “What’s for snack?” he demanded, following Matthew into the kitchen.

Generally Emily had something ready for her sons as soon as they got home. Heartsick, she’d forgotten.

She reached for two napkins and the large plastic barrel of pretzels she’d bought earlier in the month at Costco.

“Pretzels,” Mark whined. “Why can’t we have cookies?”