Seaside Avenue (Cedar Cove #7)(36)

Faith had invited him to dinner at her house in Seattle. Late in the afternoon he shaved, then slapped on aftershave, the same brand he’d been wearing for decades. Maybe it was time for a change, he reflected. When he’d finished combing his hair, he searched his closet for a dress shirt. Not the starched-collar type; a knit one that would be considered appropriate for church on Sunday morning. Appropriate for a dinner date on Saturday evening.

Ever since that first call, he’d talked to Faith nearly every night. Usually he wasn’t one to while away an hour on idle conversation, yet he and Faith were on the phone that long and sometimes longer. Then they’d hang up and Troy would remember four or five other things he wished he’d said; he’d have to resist the urge to call her right back.

They’d met a week ago in Cedar Cove for hot, greasy French fries and a diet soda—at the PancakePalace, of course. The haunt of their youth, as Faith described it. Afterward, they’d wandered down to the marina. They chatted and laughed and reminisced. By the time Faith drove back to Seattle, night had begun to fall.

Troy had waited until he assumed she was home and then phoned, just to be sure she’d arrived safely. They’d spent almost four hours together, and another hour on the phone once Faith was back in Seattle.

They hadn’t kissed. Not yet, anyway. He hadn’t even touched her in more than the most impersonal of ways—fingers brushing as he passed her a drink, a hand on her elbow as they crossed the street. Frankly, he was afraid. He was determined to put those fears behind him, though, and if the opportunity arose, if the moment was right, he’d approach her for a kiss. She had to want it, too. It’d been so many years since he’d needed to read those signs…. Well, he just hoped he’d know.

Before he left the house, Troy rummaged through the bathroom looking for cologne, which, to his utter frustration, he couldn’t find. His daughter had given him some for Christmas. Nice stuff, expensive. That must’ve been a year ago, maybe two, and he was sure he’d tucked it away somewhere in the bathroom. He’d never even opened the bottle.

Now that he thought about it, Sandy had still been living at home so it would’ve been more than two years. By now, it was probably ruined, anyway. Just as well; he didn’t want to be too obvious. And he probably shouldn’t wear competing scents, not that he’d really notice but women tended to have a better sense of smell. Fine. The aftershave was sufficient.

He straightened some magazines in the living room, trying to calculate when he should leave. He’d rather not show up early, which might look a bit pathetic, but getting there late might be seen as rude. Traffic and the ferry schedule made it difficult to figure out exactly how long the drive would take.

Just as he’d decided it was time to go, he heard the front door open.

“Dad, are you here?”

“Megan?” His heart sank. He hadn’t said anything about Faith to his daughter. Not because he felt guilty, not really. But he wasn’t sure what to tell her. It seemed too soon to describe the relationship as serious. Until he knew whether he and Faith truly had a future, he’d rather keep it to himself.

“There you are,” Megan said, rounding the corner of the kitchen as he stepped into the living room, pocketing his keys. His daughter arched her eyebrows in evident surprise. “Don’t you look good.”

He grumbled something indistinct, wondering what he should say. His instincts hinted that Megan wasn’t ready to hear about any other woman in his life.

Megan continued to study him, arms folded as she surveyed his attire. “What’s the occasion?” she asked.

Troy shrugged uncomfortably. “Nothing much. I’m meeting an old friend.” Now was the time to mention that the “old friend” just happened to be female, yet he hesitated.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were going on a date.”

Troy frowned and shrugged again.

Megan shook her head. “That’s what I thought.”

“What?”

“I can’t picture you dating,” she said with finality. She seemed to think it was too improbable to waste time discussing.

“Why not?” he demanded. He might be close to retirement age but he wasn’t dead.

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Megan joked. “You?”

“I might want to start dating again,” he informed her. “Eventually…” He didn’t find her attitude the least bit encouraging. Nor was he amused.

“No way!” His daughter looked shocked, her response even more uncompromising than he’d expected.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Mom’s only been dead a short while!”

No one needed to tell him that. “I’m well aware of when your mother died.” He didn’t remind Megan that Sandy had been ill for years beforehand. Not once in all those years had he so much as looked at another woman. He’d been faithful to the very end.

“It wouldn’t be right,” Megan said stubbornly, her smile fading. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he returned, struggling to disguise his feelings.

“Like I said, it wouldn’t be right,” she repeated, more loudly this time. “People would talk.”

“I don’t live my life based on other people’s opinions,” he said, his voice sharp with frustration and annoyance.