Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(92)

“Well,” Rachel said, reaching for Jolene’s hand, “maybe we should wait until Valentine’s Day. That was the original plan and now we’re—”

“Delay the wedding?” he broke in. “No way!” Bruce shook his head vigorously. “I want us married, and the sooner the better.”

“There’s Jolene to consider,” Rachel reminded him.

Bruce regarded his daughter for a moment and then knelt down in front of her. “Are you upset about Rachel and me getting married?” he asked.

Jolene refused to meet his gaze. “A little,” she said in a small voice.

“I thought you liked Rachel.”

“I do! A lot.”

“So what’s the problem?”

The girl shrugged, as if unable to voice her feelings.

“I love Rachel,” Bruce told her gently. “And I love you, too.”

Rachel was proud of him for being so sensitive to his daughter. Jolene needed to know that she was still as important to Bruce as ever. She and Bruce shared an unusually close bond because it had been just the two of them for more than six years; Rachel’s constant presence in their lives would disrupt that, change it. And at twelve, a girl needed her father’s approval, his pride in her. Rachel was very conscious of not having received that and she refused to let the same thing happen to Jolene.

The phone rang in the distance. Unwilling to answer it and risk breaking the mood, Rachel let the answering machine pick up.

“Ms. Pendergast, this is Cedar Cove Realty,” a man’s voice said. “Could you return this call at your earliest convenience? We have a renter for the house and need the exact date you plan to vacate.”

Jolene stared at Rachel, eyes wide. “The house has already been rented?”

“Sounds like it,” Bruce responded, looking far more pleased than he should.

“If Rachel doesn’t marry you now, she won’t have anyplace to live.” Jolene’s voice was horrified.

“That’s not true—” Rachel started to say, before Bruce cut her off.

“Guess so.”

“Bruce!” Rachel wanted to jab him in the ribs and would have if he’d been sitting beside her instead of Jolene. “I can stay with friends.” She could bunk down in Teri’s huge house for a couple of months. It would be an imposition, but Teri was the kind of friend who wouldn’t have any objections—who’d insist on it, for that matter.

“Then…you and Rachel should get married this week,” Jolene said after a moment.

“I say we wait,” Rachel returned decisively. She needed to let her soon-to-be stepdaughter know that she heard her concerns and took them seriously.

Bruce glared at her. “I want to marry you now. You want Rachel with us, too, right, Jolene?”

Jolene met Rachel’s eyes. After a long pause she slowly nodded. “Right, Dad.”

Thirty-Two

Olivia was gradually regaining her strength. She sat in the sunny kitchen and soaked in the warmth as she sipped a cup of green tea.

Justine was coming by later and Grace had just left. As little as two days ago she would’ve taken a nap but Olivia didn’t feel she needed one now. That was encouraging. She really was recovering from the surgery and the infection. Her chemotherapy would start soon after the holidays, as originally scheduled. She’d joked that it was a late Christmas gift—the gift that kept on giving—and to her surprise Jack had looked at her with somber eyes. “Yes, Olivia, it is. It’s giving me you. Your life, your health—to me that’s the greatest gift.” He usually joked and bantered his way through everything, so his emotional statement had moved her deeply.

She heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and immediately recognized it as Ben’s. Ever the gentlemen, he parked, climbed out and came around to open her mother’s door.

Charlotte seemed to sense that they were being watched and glanced up at the kitchen window. Seeing Olivia, she smiled and waved.

Olivia waved back. She stood up and went to the back door.

“We have company,” she called out to Jack who was walking on the treadmill. He’d made a habit of exercising ever since his heart attack. Olivia enjoyed finding small ways to reward him for his diligence.

“Who…is…it?” Jack called back from the master bedroom, panting between each word.

“Mom and Ben.”

“Give me…five…minutes.”

Her mother and stepfather approached, and Olivia swung open the door. Charlotte carried a white wicker basket with a sprig of holly and a bright red bow attached.

Olivia bent to kiss her mother’s cheek and then Ben’s.

“My goodness, Olivia, you look wonderful! There’s color in your cheeks and you’re looking much more like yourself.”

“I’m feeling better, Mom. Come and sit with me. Want some green tea?”

“Lovely.” Charlotte set the basket on the table. “I’ll get the tea. You and Ben take a load off your feet.”

“Mom,” Olivia protested, “I can do it.” Her mother refused to listen, and Olivia realized that ever since her diagnosis, Charlotte needed to wait on her. It was one of the few ways she could feel any sense of control—by taking care of her daughter. That typically involved food.