Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection

“I made a big mistake myself recently,” she told him.

“You?” He sounded skeptical.

Grace nodded. “I hurt someone I care about and there’s no going back.”

“I feel the same way. I was such a fool. When Jordan drowned…” He paused and stared down at the carpet. “I went out to the cemetery the other day and visited my son’s grave.” He drew a hand along the side of his jaw. “It’s funny. It’s been—what, sixteen years? I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. I still can’t believe my oldest son is dead.” He slowly rubbed his palms together, his eyes closed in pain.

“It was as if I self-destructed after we lost Jordan,” he continued, opening his eyes. “I did the best I could with the mess I’d made of my life after I married Marge, but it was never a good marriage, and we both knew it.”

Grace’s heart softened. Although she’d been furious with Stan for what he’d done to Olivia and his two surviving children, she remembered that he’d been a decent father.

“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t surprised when Marge decided she wanted out. In a lot of ways, I think she did us both a favor. My first thought when she asked for the divorce was that I’d move heaven and earth to get Olivia back.”

“Jack’s a good guy.”

Stan frowned. “I just don’t see the two of them together.”

“That’s because you don’t want to.”

He gave her a half smile and shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“What now?” Grace asked.

Stan shook his head. “I’d been thinking I might come back to Cedar Cove. But under the present circumstances, I’m not so sure that would be wise.”

Grace knew he was referring to Olivia’s coming marriage, and she knew he was conceding defeat.

“Still, Justine and Seth are here and so is Leif,” he added as though thinking aloud. “I never thought I’d enjoy being a grandfather as much as I do. I missed so much when my own children were growing up, I want to enjoy every second I can with my grandkids.”

“I know what you mean,” she told him. “I have two.”

His gaze went past her to the fireplace mantel, where Grace kept the latest photos of her grandchildren. “I can certainly see you in the girl.”

“Thank you.” Grace stared at Katie’s picture and was unable to squelch a smile of pleasure. Stan couldn’t have given her a greater compliment.

“I never did tell you how sorry I was to hear about Dan.”

Grace blinked quickly and nodded. She wished Dan had lived long enough to know his grandchildren. Tyler and Katie might have made a difference, given him a reason to live. Then again, perhaps not. Dan’s life had been troubled, and very little seemed to touch him. He was closer to Kelly than anyone, yet that hadn’t stopped him from running away during her pregnancy. In the end, despite everything, death had seemed preferable to the suffering—the guilt and depression—he’d endured in life.

Stan got to his feet. “Actually, I came to ask if you’d do something for me.”

“I will if I can.”

“I’d like to order a bottle of good champagne for Olivia and Jack on their wedding night.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “It would be a bit awkward coming from me, though.”

“Do you want me to take care of it?”

“Would you?”

Apparently Stan didn’t know Jack was a recovering alcoholic. “I’ll see to everything.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Stan started for the door, then turned back. “Grace,” he said, looking at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

She was as surprised by his invitation as she’d been by his phone call. “When?”

He gestured vaguely. “What about tonight? I know it’s last minute and all.” Then, shaking his head, he seemed to change his mind. “Forget I asked. It’s probably not a good idea, anyway.” He reached for the doorknob.

“Stan,” she said, stopping him. She didn’t know what had prompted her to do this. But Stan was lonely. She was lonely. And she’d developed a new sympathy for him during this brief visit. She’d seen a little deeper, past the arrogance she’d always associated with Stan.

“Why not?” she said with a smile. “Let’s go to dinner.”

Charlotte Jefferson and her small band of supporters marched single-file down Harbor Street, holding their pickets high. Whenever she could, Charlotte waved her message at oncoming traffic to ensure that the drivers had ample opportunity to read her sign. Several people honked their horns.

Ben Rhodes marched with her. Together they’d attended countless meetings, talked with elected officials and health-care corporations, studied what other municipalities had done. Without results. After all these months, they were no closer to getting a health clinic in Cedar Cove than they were to taking a giant leap and landing on the moon. There’d been several minor attempts to appease them—but it wasn’t enough. The time had come to take a stand. To demonstrate!

“Don’t look now,” Ben said, bending toward her and whispering in her ear, “but it looks like we’re about to have company.”

Sure enough, the sheriff’s patrol car pulled up alongside Charlotte. Troy Davis parked at the curb and climbed out of his Crown Victoria, pausing long enough to hoist up his belt before he walked over to her.

“’Afternoon, Charlotte.”

“Hello, Sheriff Davis,” she greeted primly. The sign seemed to grow unaccountably heavier and she lowered it. “What can I do for you?” she asked, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to see her marching down the main street of town, hefting a protest sign.

“Do you have a permit for this little rally of yours?” He looked past her at the string of fifteen men and women, all regular attendees at the local seniors’ center.

“A permit?” she repeated. The truth was, Charlotte hadn’t thought she’d need one. At first the demonstration had consisted of only her and Ben. They’d decided to form their own protest and stand silently by the stoplight at Harbor and Heron. However, as soon as word got out, a dozen or so others had asked to join them. Charlotte couldn’t refuse her friends.

“Officer, perhaps I could answer your questions,” Ben said, stepping closer to Charlotte.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Sheriff Davis said, eyeing Ben suspiciously.

“Ben Rhodes,” Charlotte murmured, gesturing from one man to the other, “meet the local fuzz.”

Ben chuckled; Sheriff Davis didn’t.

“Whose idea was this, anyway?” the sheriff asked.

“Mine,” Ben insisted.

“Now, Ben,” Charlotte said, patting him gently on the forearm. “Both of us came up with the idea.”

Her friends and allies gathered around. “And we asked to join her,” Laura said, edging her way closer so that she stood directly in front of Troy Davis’s face.

“Yes,” Helen echoed, moving next to Laura, although she was so short she had to tilt her chin up in order to get a good look. Any menacing expression was wasted on the sheriff, who didn’t bother to glance down. In fact, it seemed Sheriff Davis was having difficulty keeping a straight face. Charlotte, however, was not amused.

“It’s the only way we have of getting heard in this city,” Bess said. She waved her protest sign, nearly clobbering him in the head when she momentarily lost control of the heavy wooden stick.

“Does Olivia know what you’re up to?” Sheriff Davis asked Charlotte, ignoring the others.