Seaside Avenue (Cedar Cove #7)(46)
Had she? Perhaps those two things were linked and she hadn’t recognized it. The idea that she might consider retirement simply to avoid Will gave her pause.
No, she wasn’t that weak or cowardly. No, she would not let him interfere with her life, would not grant him that power.
Olivia reached for her coffee. “Will has a great deal to answer for,” she said grimly.
“This has nothing to do with him,” Grace insisted and she realized it was true.
Fortunately their pie was served just then, which signaled a change of subject.
“Mmm.” Olivia savored a forkful, closing her eyes. “How’d Maryellen take the news, by the way?”
“What news?” Grace asked, glancing up from her own pie.
“You didn’t read the newspaper this morning? The Harbor Street Gallery is closing the first of October.”
“Oh, no.” If she hadn’t been in such a rush this morning, Grace would’ve had a chance to look at the paper. “I’d heard rumors, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that.”
Olivia nodded.
“I’ll call her tomorrow and tell you what she says.” This would be a major disappointment to both her daughter and son-in-law. Maryellen had been instrumental in the success of the gallery and Jon still sold some of his work there.
Grace wished Maryellen had the time, energy and financial resources to buy the gallery herself. But right now, that possibility was completely out of reach.
Eighteen
This time Troy wasn’t taking any chances—he brought a change of clothes to the office on Friday morning, and he intended to leave precisely at five. Regardless of the Labor Day weekend traffic, he was visiting Faith.
At five o’clock, as planned, he donned his clean pressed shirt and slacks, putting his uniform inside the garment bag he had with him. The way people stared, he felt almost naked walking down the hallway outside his office. You’d think they’d never seen him in regular clothes before, he grumbled to himself.
Now that Megan was pregnant, she seemed to need her father more than ever. He realized that despite her happiness about the baby, she was feeling vulnerable and insecure. He’d had no chance to have an extended phone conversation with Faith since Megan had made her announcement. His daughter called him several times every evening, to talk about her mother, discuss baby names, ask his opinion on all kinds of pregnancy-related questions. He even wondered, almost guiltily, if she knew about him and Faith and was trying to thwart the relationship. But Megan couldn’t possibly know about Faith.
When he left the office, Troy drove down to South-worth and discovered that the lineup for the ferry was hours long. Too impatient to wait, he drove around instead, which meant crossing the TacomaNarrowsBridge. Traffic was bound to be heavy, but it didn’t matter to Troy. He was going to see Faith. She talked more and more about moving to Cedar Cove, and he encouraged the idea.
For reasons he couldn’t really explain, he was nervous. Earlier that week, when Faith had invited him to dinner, Troy had decided he’d kiss her. Okay, he’d kiss her if he got the signal that she wouldn’t object.
He lost track of time as he drove through the steady but unobstructed traffic and was surprised to find himself at the freeway exit she’d instructed him to take.
Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up to the curb outside her house—a two-story colonial painted white with green shutters. The porch had two large columns, with a couple of wicker chairs and a glider. The lawn was well cared for and lined with flowering bushes. Sandy had liked flowers, too, and when she’d still been able to, had spent copious amounts of time maintaining their garden.
Troy stood there, staring at the house, when the door opened and she came outside.
“Troy! I’m so glad you’re here.”
He felt the warmth of her welcome all the way from her porch, and yet he remained rooted to the spot. The night before they’d talked for a mere ten minutes, mostly plans for tonight, but now that he was here, he seemed to have nothing more to say.
“Hi.” He shoved one hand in his pocket and once again felt as awkward as a high-school kid. With his other hand he clutched the bottle of sauvignon blanc he’d bought on the advice of a friend.
“Come in, please.” Faith gestured toward the house.
He nodded. His mouth had gone dry and his tongue felt like it was glued to his teeth.
Looking around, he walked up the porch steps and into the entry, thrusting his wine into Faith’s hand. The first thing that caught his eye was the carpeted staircase. Large framed photographs lined the wall going up the stairs—graduation photos of her two children, a couple of formal family shots and a portrait of her husband. He’d since learned that Carl had died of lung cancer, Troy’s gaze didn’t linger on the pictures. Instead, he glanced over at the living room, which was to his right. He could see that it was furnished with a sofa and a couple of matching chairs next to a brick fireplace. A few small tables. Lots of plants. That was where she led him.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “I have coffee, tea and soda.” She smiled. “And wine, of course.”
“Not yet, thanks,” he mumbled as he sat on one of the chairs next to the fireplace. A moment of uncomfortable silence followed.
“How was the traffic?”
“Fine.” He was suddenly hot and resisted the urge to unfasten the top button of his shirt.