Seaside Avenue (Cedar Cove #7)(56)

“Very well.”

She didn’t know what made her say that. James hadn’t done anything to her and yet she seemed to be looking for ways to offend him.

When he drove up to her apartment building, she practically leaped out of the car. She certainly didn’t give him time to get out and open her door. She ran to her apartment and hurriedly let herself inside. Her pulse roared in her ears as she leaned against the closed door, breathing hard. When she looked down she realized she still held the battered rose. A tear fell from her cheek and landed on the red petals.

Twenty-Two

“We got a postcard from Linnette,” Corrie McAfee told Roy when he came into the office after his morning walk. Her voice was a little too cheerful, and he didn’t believe it reflected how she really felt.

“Where is she?” he asked. He’d ultimately sided with his daughter about making her own decision, but that didn’t mean he approved of the way she’d taken off without a destination, without a plan. Nor did it mean he didn’t sympathize with her reasons. Like any father, he hated seeing his child hurt.

“North Dakota,” Corrie told him, studying the postcard. “A town called BuffaloValley. Roy,” she said, glaring at him. “She’s taken a job as a waitress at a restaurant called 3 of a Kind. She says the owner won the business in a card game about ten years ago. What sort of place is this?”

“Apparently one that needs a waitress,” he said in as casual a tone as he could manage.

“After all those years of schooling and medical training, Linnette is working as a waitress?”

“I know.” He didn’t like the sound of that, either. However, he was willing to give Linnette the benefit of the doubt and wait a few months until she found her footing.

“A waitress,” his wife repeated indignantly.

“What I find interesting,” he said, “is that she chose to mail us a postcard rather than call.”

He and Corrie exchanged a quick, private smile.

Their daughter Gloria had once mailed them postcards, too, but hers had been anonymous with cryptic messages neither of them had understood at the time.

Corrie handed him Linnette’s postcard and he read through the tightly scribbled lines. “She seems fairly happy,” he said, somewhat surprised. “Apparently the proprietor’s included a room with the job.”

“Buffalo Bob? I don’t like it, Roy. What a ridiculous name!”

“Listen, Corrie, we raised our daughter to the best of our ability. Linnette’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s told us about this job and where she’s living, so the least we can do is trust her judgment.”

“How can you say that?” Corrie cried. “Her judgment ever since Cal broke up with her has been terrible.”

“In our opinion,” he pointed out.

“Our opinion?” she returned, her eyes narrowing. “You mean to say you thought so, too, and didn’t say anything?”

Well, he’d certainly stepped into that one. Roy nodded slowly. “I didn’t like the fact that Linnette chose to run away, but she felt she had to make a change, which I understand. We won’t always agree with her decisions, Corrie.” He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “That’s a given. We didn’t always approve of Mack’s choices, either. Kids have to learn to fend for themselves. We can’t get in the habit of rescuing them every time.”

Roy could tell that his wife still had trouble with this, and he didn’t blame her. Corrie was a nurturer, someone who tried to fix whatever was wrong, especially in her children’s lives. He tended to feel that kids should face the consequences of their actions. Not just kids—everyone. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t miss Linnette; he did. He wanted her back home. He believed that eventually she would return, but not until she was ready. Not until she’d figured out whatever she needed to know.

Later that same afternoon, he went to the sheriff’s office and saw Troy Davis sitting at his desk, the phone held to his ear. The sheriff noticed Roy and immediately gestured him inside. There was a coffeepot across the hall; Roy helped himself to a mug while Troy finished up his conversation.

When Roy came back into the office, the sheriff was off the phone. He picked up his own mug and ambled across the hall for a refill. Roy noticed a haggard, weary look on his face.

“Problems?” he asked.

Troy didn’t answer right away. “Remember Martha Evans who died a couple months back?”

“The widow? Didn’t Pastor Flemming find the body?”

“That’s her. The family claims that several expensive pieces of her jewelry are missing.”

Roy was taken aback. “You don’t think Dave—”

“Of course not.” Troy shook his head. “But you didn’t come here to listen to my woes. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Roy decided not to pursue the subject of the missing jewelry. “I’m doing legwork on a case. Gotta check some old police reports. Corrie asked me to stop in and invite you to dinner Friday night.”

Troy’s gaze instantly left his. “Sorry, I’m busy Friday. I’ve got another engagement. Thank Corrie for me, though.”

“Sure. Would Saturday be better?”

Troy still didn’t look at him. “I’m busy Saturday too.”