Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection

“Jack!” His son didn’t need chastisement now; he was already depressed. It wouldn’t help to heap more blame and censure on his burdened shoulders.

“Shelly wouldn’t talk to me. She threw me out.”

“Of your own home?” Jack was practically growling. “The woman is a fruitcake!”

“Jack!” Olivia elbowed him again. He was making matters worse instead of better. “Let the boy tell us in his own way.”

“Sorry,” Jack said, although he didn’t sound it.

“I went to talk things over with Shelly. I wanted her to know that I don’t care who the father is. Me, this new guy she works with or some man on the street.” His face hardened, and while he might be saying the words, Olivia found it difficult to believe them.

“And she threw you out?” Again it was Jack whose voice rose in disbelief.

“Shelly was crying too hard for me to hear what she said, but she made one thing plain,” Eric murmured. “She wanted me out of there.”

“Women,” Jack muttered. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.”

“Would you stop,” Olivia demanded. “Cut the clichés and the unhelpful comments, okay?”

Jack cast her an apologetic look.

“Shelly said it would be best if I was completely out of her life.” Eric spoke in dull tones, and his misery was breaking Olivia’s heart.

“What about the babies?” she asked.

“She said…it’s too late.”

“Too late? What did she mean by that?” Jack shouted.

“She doesn’t want anything more to do with me.” He seemed even closer to tears. “At least, I think that’s what she said.”

“She might’ve been saying something else,” Jack said desperately. “Maybe you didn’t understand….”

“I understood the door she slammed in my face,” Eric told him. “It’s over for us, I know that now.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Jack said. “Let’s—”

“Eric, sit down,” Olivia instructed, ignoring Jack. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee, and then the three of us are going to discuss this.”

“What’s there to discuss?” Eric asked, shrugging hopelessly.

“Quite a bit, actually, because those babies are going to need their daddy and—” she paused and stared pointedly at Jack “—their grandfather, too.”

“What more can I do?” Eric asked again, following Olivia into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” she said confidently, gathering him close. “Life has a way of turning out for the best. If your mother was here instead of in Kansas City, she’d tell you the same thing. It’s painful just now, but be patient. Shelly will eventually reach out to you. She needs you, Eric, and she wants you back in her life.”

“You think so?” His eagerness to believe, made his expression—so vulnerable and expectant—almost painful to watch.

“I do.” Olivia nodded, sincere in what she said to him. In her experience, a woman didn’t maintain as much contact as Shelly had—dinner with Jack, sending the ultrasound pictures—if she wanted to sever all relations with a man. The things she’d said to Jack, suggesting that she and Eric would see each other after the birth, struck Olivia as promising, too.

“Really?” Jack asked. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Yeah,” Eric echoed. “How long?”

“That I can’t answer,” she said and wanted to kick Jack for bringing it up.

“You’re a very wise person, aren’t you?” Eric said, looking at her in admiration. He finally seemed to relax a little.

“She’s great,” Jack agreed.

“Now, how about helping us decorate this Charlie Brown Christmas tree?” Olivia urged.

Eric hesitated and then gave her a huge grin. “Okay!”

In her heart of hearts, Olivia was convinced that everything would work out for Shelly, Eric and the twins—no matter who their father was.

Ten

Over the years, Olivia had given a number of speeches. She tended to shy away from accepting these engagements, but in her position as an elected official, they were unavoidable. This was the first time she’d been asked to speak at the Henry M. Jackson Senior Center, and she was admittedly nervous.

The senior potluck luncheons were held on the first Monday of each month. Last June, Mary Berger had asked Olivia to be the January speaker. Six months had never passed so quickly. Olivia had dutifully written the appointment in her date book and then promptly forgotten all about it. Not until she opened her appointment book for the New Year did the reminder jump out at her.

Naturally, her mother was excited about having “my daughter, the judge,” come and speak to her friends. Knowing Charlotte, she’d gloat for a month. Olivia appreciated her mother’s support, but found her pride excessive and a little embarrassing. Charlotte took every opportunity to tell friends and strangers alike that her only daughter was a judge; worse, she was prone to detailing Olivia’s various judgments, complete with commentaries of her own.

As Olivia dressed for the luncheon, she paused, standing inside her walk-in closet, and frowned as she thought about her mother. Charlotte had overdone it this holiday season, baking for friends, visiting and supervising events at the Senior Center, writing the seniors’ column each week.

By Christmas Day, Charlotte was exhausted. It used to be that nothing slowed her down. For the first time, Olivia realized that her mother’s age had caught up with her. Charlotte just wasn’t her usual self, although she valiantly tried to hide how worn-out she was.

Christmas afternoon, when the family gathered at her mother’s house, Charlotte had looked pale and drawn. As soon as they’d finished dinner, Olivia insisted she rest. Charlotte had, of course, resisted. Olivia wondered how she was going to convince her mother to take on fewer commitments in the new year.

Choosing a soft suede dress in a pale tan color with a brown and gold scarf, Olivia arrived at the Senior Center a few minutes early. Charlotte and her best friend, Laura, were at the door waiting for her. Beaming with pride, her mother immediately hugged Olivia as though it’d been months—rather than a few days—since they were last together.

“You remember Laura, don’t you?” her mother asked unnecessarily, drawing Olivia into the large room, which was set up with tables seating eight, a buffet area and a slightly raised stage that held the speaker’s podium plus the head table.

“Of course I do,” Olivia said, smiling warmly at her mother’s knitting friend. Charlotte and Laura were the people responsible for inspiring the thriving seniors’ knitting group. The enthusiastic Laura was an accomplished knitter and Olivia had always suspected she could convince the whole world that peace was a possibility if everyone took up knitting needles instead of guns.

“I’m so pleased you could accept our invitation,” Mary Berger, the center’s social director, said as she approached Olivia. “We’re looking forward to hearing what you have to say.”

Olivia smiled blandly. She was nervous already and hoped she could pull this off without stumbling over her notes and humiliating herself—and her mother—in the process.

“Did you want our guest of honor to sit with you?” Mary asked Charlotte. She leaned close to Olivia and said in a low voice, “Your mother tends to want speakers she knows to sit with her and her friends instead of at the head table.”

Olivia recalled that Jack Griffin had spoken to the seniors last year, and apparently her mother had captured him for herself. She’d paid the price, however, when Jack had convinced Charlotte to contribute to the weekly Seniors’ Page for The Cedar Cove Chronicle.

“Mom? Would you like me to sit with you and Laura and the others?” Olivia asked.

Charlotte stiffened and her chin came up as though the question offended her. “I think you should be at the head table.”