1105 Yakima Street

Rachel bit her lip. “Would I have any chance of getting the job?”

“As good a chance as anyone else.”

“Then why not.” Getting on with the shipyard would certainly help her situation. The timing couldn’t have been better. And after the baby was born, she’d have to reassess her options, anyway.

“I know someone in HR and I’ll drop off a résumé for you.”

“Wow, that would be great! Thank you.”

Not surprisingly, the next day after work, Bruce showed up at the salon. Rachel ignored him and after several minutes he left.

“Rachel,” Jane whispered in warning. “I don’t want Bruce hanging around here. Can’t you do something?”

“I already have.” Booking an extended lunch hour, she’d gone to the shipyard employment office, had an interview and taken a test. She didn’t know how well she’d done but it didn’t seem that difficult.

Nate was home early that evening, smiling when he walked in the door. “I talked to Becky, my friend in HR,” he said. He put his briefcase down, opened the refrigerator and removed a cold soda. “You got the highest possible score.”

“I did? Does that mean they might call me in for another interview? Did you tell her that if she hired me I’d give her a free haircut?”

Nate laughed. “No, because that might be construed as bribery.”

Rachel smiled, optimistic for the first time in weeks. Months.

“The position will be posted for another couple of days and then Becky will notify the applicant who’s been chosen. You’ll know one way or the other by the end of the week.”

“Thanks again, Nate.”

He shrugged off her appreciation. “Anything for a friend.”

Rachel had a good feeling about this short-term position. It was perfect for her. The shipyard obviously agreed because a few days later Rachel received word that she had the job.

Eight

“Jack, what’s that in your pocket?” Olivia asked, pulling her husband into the hallway that led to their bedroom. He had the grace to look guilty.

“Cookies,” he admitted.

“Jack,” she moaned. He had to watch his diet carefully, and the cookies and cake Charlotte insisted on baking weren’t part of his low-fat eating program. After seeing Jack through one heart attack and bypass surgery, Olivia had been keeping a close eye on his eating habits. He’d been backsliding recently, since temptation, provided by Charlotte, was ever-present these days.

“Your mother baked them especially for me,” Jack said. “I couldn’t hurt her feelings, could I?”

“Oh, Jack.” She sighed, and held out her hand. “At least give one of them to me.”

He snorted. “At this rate we’ll both weigh three hundred pounds by the time your mother and Ben are back in their own house.”

Olivia had already gained a pound and this cookie wasn’t helping; still, like Jack, she couldn’t resist.

Thrusting one hand in his pocket, he took out the cookies in their paper napkin, and begrudgingly placed two of the four he’d pilfered in her palm.

Olivia finished off her last peanut butter cookie before she went into the kitchen. Her mother was busy with the dishes, quietly singing a hymn as she squirted detergent into the hot water. She put the bottle down by the sink and began a song about Jesus washing all our sins away.

“Mom,” Olivia said, coming to stand next to her mother. She reached for a kitchen towel and slung it over her shoulder while she waited for the first clean bowl. “You could always use the dishwasher, you know.”

“It only takes a minute to do these few by hand,” Charlotte said. “I didn’t realize you were back.”

She’d arrived home about ten minutes earlier and they’d chatted briefly before she saw Jack slinking away, looking guilty. “We spoke when I came in.”

“We did?” Charlotte seemed confused.

“Mom, do you remember baking cookies yesterday?”

“Of course I do. I made Jack’s favorites. Snickerdoodles.”

“You baked him a pie last night, too.”

“Well, yes, the Granny Smith apples are outstanding this year.”

Olivia tried to broach the subject carefully. “The thing is, Mom, Jack and I are trying to avoid sweets.”

“My heavens, why would you do that?”

“It’s a matter of being healthy, eating right, getting in the required number of fruits and vegetables. While it’s fine to have dessert once a week or so, every day is simply too much.”

Her mother turned to look at her. “But I enjoy baking for you and it makes me feel like I’m doing something to pay for my keep.”

“But, Mom, you don’t need to do a thing.”

“I know that, but I want to.”

Because Olivia felt guilty she added, “It’s not that Jack and I don’t appreciate it, because we do. But Jack loves your cookies so much, he can’t stop himself from stealing one or two even though he shouldn’t.”

Her mother beamed with pleasure. “I always did like Jack Griffin. I was so pleased when you decided to marry him.”

“I like him myself,” Olivia said, smiling as she spoke. “Why don’t we compromise? You bake to your heart’s content, and we’ll freeze the cookies and other goodies.”

“Olivia, what a marvelous idea! That’ll make everyone happy. No wonder you’re such a good judge.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Olivia dried the clean dishes, put them back in the cupboards, then went to the laundry room. She had a load of whites she wanted to wash. To her surprise, she found them already clean and folded, sitting on top of the washer. Apparently her mother had taken that task upon herself. Unfortunately, she’d added something red—her new towel set? As a result, what had gone in white was now a fetching shade of … pink.

Groaning inwardly Olivia picked up the stack of clothes and carried them into the bedroom.

The phone rang just then, and the readout said Grace’s name.

“Griffin residence,” Charlotte’s voice answered when Olivia picked up.

“Good evening, Charlotte,” Grace said.

“I’ve got it, Mom.”