Cedar Cove Collection

“I can see that.” The game was about to start and there was standing room only. In addition to the football team itself, the school band, the cheerleading squad and drill team were all present.

“Do you two have plans for after the game?” Cliff asked, but Olivia noticed that he directed the question at Grace.

“Olivia and I are going to dinner,” Grace explained.

“Cliff invited me out, as well,” Charlotte said. “Why don’t you two join us?” She glanced from one to the other.

“Sure, that sounds like fun,” Olivia said. From Grace’s reaction to seeing Cliff, she knew her friend wouldn’t object.

The game was close, and at halftime the score was tied. Olivia was, once again, amazed by how many people her mother knew. Not a moment passed without Charlotte calling out to one person or another. Her weekly column had increased her recognition among the townspeople, and she was obviously well-loved for her charitable activities, including her volunteer work at the local convalescent center where she’d met Tom Harding.

Cedar Cove High School won in the last five seconds with a field goal. The mood was festive as the stadium emptied. Since the Pancake Palace would definitely be crowded after the win, Cliff suggested The Captain’s Galley in the downtown area.

They met there and were quickly escorted to a table for four. Olivia noticed that Cecilia Randall still held the position of hostess, but there wasn’t time to chat with the young Navy wife. Once they were seated, conversation was light and flowed smoothly both before and after they ordered.

Try as she might, Olivia found her thoughts wandering to Jack, and that distracted her. Without being obvious, she’d searched for him throughout the game. He generally wrote the sports articles for the highschool teams, simply because he loved going to the games. Olivia had given up counting the number of sporting events they’d attended together. But if he was at the game tonight, she hadn’t seen him.

Of course, she could phone him. They weren’t fighting, although she had to wonder why he hadn’t called her. Perhaps Eric was still with him, but his son couldn’t possibly take up every minute of Jack’s time. Olivia was getting downright irritated.

Conversation ceased as their meals arrived and then it resumed. They’d moved from the football game to the state of the local economy. Olivia added a comment every now and then as she nibbled at her crab salad, but her spirits weren’t high and she struggled to keep her thoughts away from Jack.

Even though she’d dated occasionally since her divorce, she hadn’t gotten close to another man the way she had with Jack. Because their personalities and backgrounds were so different, he brought balance and spontaneity to her rigid schedule. With him she was free to laugh and shed the formality that had taken over her life after she was elected to the bench. Jack was unconventional, witty, fun—and, damn it all, she missed him.

The bill came, and before anyone could argue, Cliff reached for it. “My treat, ladies,” he insisted.

Olivia objected. She’d never have agreed to join them if she’d known Cliff was buying. “I can’t let you do that,” she said.

“Hey, how often does a man get the chance to be seen with three beautiful women?”

“This is very thoughtful of you,” Charlotte said and patted his hand, sending Olivia a sharp glance. Sighing, Olivia decided to accept graciously and murmured her thanks.

Grace chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not using my credit card?”

They all laughed and after savoring the last of their coffee, they parted for the night.

“Is everything okay?” Grace asked as they strolled to the parking lot next to the library. “You’ve been quiet all evening.” Olivia had hoped for a few minutes to speak privately to Grace, but with her mother and Cliff present that hadn’t been possible.

“Who can get a word in edgewise with my mother?” Olivia joked.

“Is everything okay between you and Jack?” How like Grace to care about her friend’s petty concerns when she was the one whose life was in upheaval.

“I think so,” Olivia told her, and then added, “I hope so.”

“So do I.”

They parted with promises to talk soon, and Olivia drove home. As she walked into the hallway, she saw that the message light on her answering machine was flashing. She stared down at it for a few hopeful seconds. Pressing the button, she waited and was rewarded by the craggy sound of Jack’s voice.

“Olivia, hi. Sorry I haven’t been in touch lately, but I’ve had my hands full with Eric. I was hoping you’d be home so we could talk. You’re not out with some other guy, are you?” There was a forced laugh. “Listen, I’m really sorry about last week, but I hope to make it up to you. Phone me back, all right? I’ve got a special birthday gift for you. Can we get together soon?”

Olivia checked her watch. It was close to eleven and too late to return his call. Anyway, he’d kept her waiting all week; she’d keep him guessing until morning. As she readied for bed, Olivia was smiling.

Maryellen wanted to kick herself for coming up with this ridiculous “swap meet for men” idea. It’d all started out innocently enough with her mentioning the article she’d read about that town in Ireland. Next thing she knew, she was part of the party-planning. By her following nail appointment, this Halloween get-together had gathered momentum to the point that she’d lost count of how many people were attending.

“You’re still bringing that chef friend of yours, aren’t you?” Terri asked. Maryellen had barely sat down when Terri started grilling her with questions she couldn’t answer about Jon.

“Like I said, he’s just a friend—no,” she amended. “Jon’s more of a business acquaintance. And he hasn’t given me an answer yet.”

“Oh.” Terri sounded disappointed. “So you don’t know if he’s coming or not?”

“I can’t say for sure.” She hadn’t talked to him since that initial conversation a week ago. “If he’s not there, I’ll make sure you get introduced some other time.”

Terri’s dark eyes lit up. “Great.”

The following evening—Halloween night—Maryellen stood in the darkest, creepiest corner of the decorated bar with a fake spider dangling from the ceiling directly above her. More than ever, she felt convinced that this had all been a mistake. The room was crowded with maybe a hundred men and women, some in costume, some not.

Then without warning, without her seeing him arrive, Jon was standing next to her. He held a frosty mug of beer. “Hi,” he said, looking out over the crowded room.

“You came.” Now that was brilliant. Nothing like stating the obvious. “I mean…you didn’t call me back and when I didn’t hear, I assumed you wouldn’t show up.”

“I should’ve phoned, but I wanted to make sure I could get the evening off first.”

“It’s all right—don’t apologize.” He hadn’t but…

“Between the restaurant and my photography, I’ve been working a lot of hours. Sometimes I lose track of time.”

An artist’s working habits weren’t new to Maryellen. “I understand.”

He took a sip of beer. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Then, glancing around the room, she saw Terri, who’d dressed as Cleopatra complete with heavy eye makeup and black wig. “There’s the woman I wanted you to meet.”

“All right,” Jon said, following as she wove her way through the crowd.

“Terri,” Maryellen said, interrupting the other woman’s conversation with someone—male or female?—dressed as a wizard in voluminous robes. “This is Jon, the man I was telling you about.”

“Hello, Jon,” Terri returned, as though she’d waited her entire life for precisely this moment. The wizard, having lost her attention, drifted off.

“Pleased to meet you, Terri,” Jon said.

“I hear you’re a chef.” Terri edged closer to him, and Maryellen could see she’d already had more than enough to drink. She bit her lip, wanting to suggest that it might be best if they talked another time. “I know my way around a kitchen, too. Want to stir up something together?”

“That might be interesting.” Jon took another sip of beer, and Maryellen could see he was trying hard to disguise a smile.

“Maryellen said you also take pictures.”

“I do a little of that on the side.”

“Actually, Jon’s a brilliant photographer,” Maryellen rushed to explain, mortified at what he must think.