Debbie Macomber

Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-6)


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She closed her eyes, her mind spinning as she waited.

      In the beginning, Grace had wanted to protect her children from what Dan had done. Her reaction had been instinctive, but it’d also been wrong. Maryellen and Kelly were entitled to know. Furthermore, they might be able to provide an answer. For all Grace knew, Dan might have said something to one of the girls that would give her—or Roy McAfee—some kind of clue.

      “We’re both here,” Kelly said anxiously.

      “Are you all right, Mom?” Maryellen asked.

      “No.” It was time for honesty. “Roy discovered that your father purchased a twenty-four-foot travel trailer last year.”

      “Dad bought a trailer?” The question came from Kelly.

      “Where did he keep it?”

      That was a question Grace hadn’t thought to ask. “I don’t know, but I’m discovering that I knew very little about your father.”

      “There’s more, isn’t there?” Again it was Kelly who asked. Kelly who was so close to her father and so confident he’d return before her baby was born.

      “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “He paid cash for the trailer.”

      “How much?” Maryellen asked.

      “Thirteen thousand,” Grace said. “In fresh one-hundred-dollar bills.”

      Kelly gasped.

      Maryellen said nothing.

      “I don’t have a clue where he got that much money,” Grace told her daughters. It was as much a mystery as his disappearance.

      “Mom, do you think the other woman might have bought the trailer for him?” Maryellen asked softly.

      “Then why not register it in her name?”

      “Maybe she wanted you to find out about it,” Maryellen suggested.

      “Stop it!” Kelly shouted. “There is no other woman. Dad wouldn’t do that.”

      “Grow up,” Maryellen said sharply. “When are you going to quit looking at Dad like he’s some kind of saint? He didn’t just leave Mom, you know. He walked out on you and me, too.”

      “Don’t say that,” Kelly cried, breaking into huge sobs. “I don’t believe it. I’ll never believe it.”

      “Girls, please…” Grace felt close to tears herself.

      “Do you still think Dad’s going to magically reappear before your baby’s born?” Maryellen asked. “Get a grip! He doesn’t care about either one of us.”

      “Maryellen, stop.” Grace refused to allow her older daughter to continue. This was hard enough without the two of them turning against each other.

      An awkward moment passed, then Maryellen whispered, “I’m sorry, Kelly. I was upset and I took it out on you.”

      “I’m sorry, too,” Kelly said. “For you and Mom. One day we’re all going to discover the truth about Dad. I don’t know why he’s doing this or where he is, but there’s a perfectly logical explanation for his disappearance.”

      Her daughter had said this many times before, and Grace let her say it again. Neither she nor Maryellen challenged what they both saw as a fantasy. They understood that Kelly needed to believe it.

      Justine had been downright miserable since the reunion. She’d announced to Seth that she intended to marry Warren, but she hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it to Warren himself.

      Friday night, Warren planned to take her to dinner at D.D.’s on the Cove, and she thought she’d tell him then, as long as he understood she wanted a lengthy engagement. Eventually they’d ease their way into marriage.

      “You look fabulous,” Warren said, kissing her cheek when he picked her up after work. The bank was open until six on Friday nights and after a ten-hour day, Justine was tired. Warren might think she looked good, but that wasn’t how she felt.

      Because they were close to D.D.’s, Justine suggested they walk over to the waterfront restaurant.

      “Let’s drive.”

      It seemed ridiculous to drive to a restaurant less than two blocks from the bank, but Justine didn’t want to start the evening with an argument.

      Warren held open the car door for her and she discovered a small wrapped package on the passenger seat. “What’s this?” she asked.

      “Open it and see.”

      “Not another gift. Warren, please, this isn’t necessary.”

      “Says who?” he joked. “It’s the only way I can prove to you that I’ll be a generous husband.”

      “Warren.”

      “All right, all right, no pressure.” Chuckling, he hurried around to the driver’s side.

      Justine waited until he was seated before she opened the jeweler’s box. Inside was an oblong-shaped black pearl in a gold oyster clasp; it was suspended from a fine gold chain. The pearl was exquisite.

      “A friend of mine picked that up for me in the South Pacific,” he told her.

      “It’s lovely.”

      “You deserve to wear diamonds and pearls.”

      “Oh, Warren.”

      “Come on,” he said, grinning. “Let’s get to the restaurant. I could use a drink.”

      Justine enjoyed a glass of wine now and then, but she wasn’t a heavy drinker. Warren often overindulged and when he did, she drove them both home and spent the night in his spare room. She knew what people thought and was content to let their assumption stand. Warren appreciated her discretion. Evenings of this kind happened often enough that she kept a spare set of clothes at his house.

      The parking lot at D.D.’s was already almost full, and they were fortunate to find a space. Instead of requesting a table for dinner, Warren led her into the cocktail lounge, where they sat at a circular booth overlooking the water.

      Warren had two double scotches in quick succession. He’d just ordered his third when Seth Gunderson walked casually into the lounge.

      Justine’s shocked gaze clashed with his. She’d had no idea he was still in town. The last place she’d expected to run into him was here.

      Seth looked slowly from Justine to Warren, a disgusted expression on his face.

      Since it would be rude to ignore Seth completely, she attempted a smile. He acknowledged her briefly by inclining his head in her direction, then made for the bar. He took a seat with his back to her.

      “What’s wrong?” Warren asked.

      “Nothing,” she assured him, staring out over the waterfront and the marina.

      “Who’s he?” Warren asked, glancing at Seth and then, as if he’d figured it out, he reached for his drink and tossed it down in one swallow. “Damn,” he said, shaking his head.

      “Don’t worry about it, Warren. I’m with you, not Seth.” Agreeing to marry Warren right then and there would reassure him, but she couldn’t make herself do it.

      “You want him, though. Don’t you?”

      “Of course not.” How easily the lie came to her lips.

      “Who do you think you’re kidding?” Warren said scornfully. “It’s written all over both of you.”

      “That’s not true.” She repulsed Seth. Everything he did told her as much. He sat at the bar with his back to her, letting her know that he couldn’t bear the sight of her.

      “You can’t take your eyes off him,” Warren commented and oddly, he