50 Harbor Street

Page 25

“Problems with the cook,” Cathy answered, poking her head out of the kitchen. “I should’ve cleaned the oven after Thanksgiving and didn’t, and then the minute I turned it on to preheat for the turkey, smoke started billowing out.”
“Mom set off the smoke alarm!” Andy shouted.
Carol’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”
“What could I do?” Cathy joked. “I shoved the bird inside and closed the door, hoping the alarm would stop—which eventually it did.”
Cecilia laughed. “That’s exactly what I would have done.”
“No,” Cathy objected. “You would’ve had a spotless oven, so this sort of disaster would never have happened. I, on the other hand, only cook when necessary and on holidays.”
What Cathy had said about her was true, but Cecilia wasn’t going to admit it. She did like a clean house and took pride in her homemaking skills.
“Rachel Pendergast is joining us for sure,” Cecilia said, delighted that her new friend had agreed to come. Both Carol and Cathy had met Rachel at different times, and Cecilia had gotten to know her fairly well. Cathy and Carol were perfectly willing to invite her to their Christmas party, even if she wasn’t officially a Navy wife. Nate Olsen was a friend of their husbands.
“Great,” Cathy said, “the more the merrier.”
The doorbell chimed just as Cathy finished speaking. Carol answered, and Rachel walked in, her nose red from the cold, bearing a sweet potato casserole and a canvas bag with a few wrapped presents peaking out. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I’m not late, am I?”
“No, no, not at all,” Cathy assured her. She took the casserole dish and set it on the kitchen counter.
“Welcome,” Cecilia said and they hugged. Rachel shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack by the front door, then arranged her gifts by the tree.
“I got delayed at Bruce’s,” she explained, glancing at her watch.
At first Cecilia assumed that Bruce was Rachel’s brother or some other relation, until she remembered he was her widower friend.
“Jolene didn’t want me to leave,” Rachel was saying.
Cathy brought out eggnog and they all sat down in the living room to open gifts. Cecilia had bought each of the other women a tube of luxurious hand cream, and puzzles for the kids; in return she received nail polish from Rachel, in a color called “Santa’s New Suit,” a paperback from Carol, and, from Cathy, a pewter picture frame engraved with booties and other baby images. She suspected Cathy had gone over their price limit and felt tears well up as she caught her friend’s eye and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Soon after that, the two kids moved into the bedroom, where Amanda had convinced Andy to play house with her.
“I’ll make you dinner,” the four-year-old said smartly.
Andy looked skeptical. “Will the smoke alarm go off again?”
“Who are Bruce and Jolene?” Carol asked Rachel. “I think I missed something here.”
“Well, Bruce is a…friend. A widower. His daughter, Jolene, is nine now. Her mother died when she was five. A while ago, she said she wants me to marry her dad.”
“How did Bruce react to that?” Carol asked.
“Forget her father, how did you handle it?” Cathy wanted to know.
Rachel grimaced slightly. “It was awkward for both of us. Bruce and I see each other on occasion. Mostly for companionship. For example, Bruce asked me to go Christmas shopping with him and I did.”
Cathy exchanged a glance with Cecilia. “Does Nate know about this other guy?”
Rachel nodded. “Bruce is just a friend. Nate knows that. Technically I—I’ve only gone out with Nate twice, and we’ve stayed in touch.”
Cecilia knew they’d been in daily contact ever since she’d shown Rachel how to log onto the Internet and send e-mail messages. Ian had recently mentioned how much happier Nate seemed to be now that he was able to communicate with Rachel on-line.
“Nate gave me a computer for Christmas,” Rachel said shyly. “I told him it was too much, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Wow,” Cathy murmured.
“He’s got the bucks,” Carol said matter-of-factly. “Or rather, his family does.”
Cecilia, Cathy and Rachel all stared at her.
“What do you mean?” Cecilia asked when no one else did.
“Nate Olsen, right?” Carol said, turning to Rachel, who nodded. “That’s the guy I thought you were talking about. His daddy’s Nathaniel Olsen.”
The name wasn’t familiar to Cecilia, and she noticed the others looked just as blank.
“Who?” Cathy asked.
“Nathaniel Olsen, as in Congressman Nathaniel Olsen from Pennsylvania.” She glanced from one woman to the next. “You mean you didn’t know?”
Rachel looked shocked, then confused. “N-no, Nate never mentioned anything about his family being in politics.”
“We’re talking money. Big money,” Carol continued, clearly enjoying the role of expert. “I’m not sure where it all came from in the beginning—probably coal—but there’s lots of it now and Daddy doesn’t mind letting everyone know.”
“Nate’s an enlisted man,” Cecilia said. It stood to reason that because of his father’s name, he could’ve gone into the Navy as an officer.
“True,” Carol agreed, sipping her eggnog. “But Nate and his father had a falling out a few years back. Then I heard that Nate dropped out of college and joined the Navy.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I’m from Pennsylvania,” she told them. “It was big news back home, and of course his daddy put a positive spin on it. He played up his family’s patriotism for all it was worth at election time.”
“I’ll bet Nate hated that,” Rachel said quietly.
“I’ll bet he did, too,” Carol concurred. “I don’t think he has much to do with his father these days.”
“Oh.” Rachel had gone pale. “I can just imagine what Nate’s father would say if he found out his son was dating a hairdresser.”
That was met with a moment’s silence. “It seems to me Nate’s his own person,” Cecilia felt obliged to comment. “He’s the one who sought you out, isn’t he?”
“Actually, I bid on him at the Dog and Bachelor Auction, remember?”
“Yes, but you two hit it off,” Carol said.
“Nate doesn’t have a problem with you working in a salon,” Cathy added. “What’s wrong with that, anyway? As soon as Carol and I found out you did hair, we were overjoyed. We’ve been looking for a good hairdresser ever since we moved to Cedar Cove. The fact that you do nails too is a bonus.”
Rachel relaxed a bit. “I just wish Nate had said something—about his background, I mean.”
“Maybe he was waiting for the right time,” Cecilia offered, wishing Carol hadn’t said anything now. Rachel seemed so uncomfortable.
Carol must have regretted it herself, judging by her next words. “Come to think of it, I’m sure Nate wouldn’t use family money to purchase your gift,” she said. “You obviously mean a lot to him.”
Rachel smiled and the color rose in her cheeks. “He means a lot to me.” Her smile grew wider. “I don’t know anything about his family, but I will tell you that Nate’s one fine kisser.”
Cathy shook her head. “Well, I don’t know about Nate, but I’ll bet you hands down that Andrew can out-kiss him any day of the week.”
“If we’re going to get into comparisons,” Cecilia began.
“Girls, girls,” Carol broke in, waving her arms. “This is a discussion we don’t want to have.”
“Why not?” Cecilia asked.
Carol looked at each one and then lowered her voice. “Exactly how long has it been since any of us had sex?”
Cecilia and Cathy both giggled.
“Too long,” Cecilia said. “Way too long.”
Twenty-Six
Corrie loved shopping at all the after-Christmas sales. Next to the Thanksgiving sales, this was her favorite shopping experience. She was delighted that Peggy Beldon had agreed to join her. They’d gotten to know each other in the last year, while Roy worked on solving the murder that had taken place at Thyme and Tide, the bed-and-breakfast owned by Bob and Peggy.
“I love it when I can buy Christmas wrap at seventy-five percent off,” Peggy said as she loaded up her cart with half a dozen colorful rolls. “Of course, Bob complains. He says I can’t save money by spending money.”
Corrie nodded. “Roy says the same thing.” This was a ritual lament—the same conversation they’d had on previous shopping expeditions.
“Men are so unreasonable.” Peggy added several strands of outdoor Christmas lights. “Look at these,” she said, holding up a box for Corrie to view. “Next year when Bob goes to put up the outdoor display, he’ll discover that a whole bunch of lights have burned out. Outdoor lights just aren’t made to last more than a year. I’m saving him the bother of racing down to the store for last-minute replacements. But will he thank me?”
“You’re joking,” Corrie murmured. “Of course not.”
“We’re underappreciated.”
They both laughed. Corrie was grateful she had a friend to share this kind of humor with, these small, amusing insights from daily life. She’d missed that when she’d first moved to Cedar Cove. She didn’t make friends easily. Linnette was like that, too, and Corrie was glad her daughter had met Gloria. Linnette had made the transition from Seattle to small-town life much more smoothly, thanks to her neighbor.
When her cart was full, Corrie steered toward the checkout stands in the front of the store, with Peggy following directly behind.
After they’d delivered their bounty to the car, Peggy suggested lunch. “We should spend some of the money we just saved,” she said.
“By all means,” Corrie agreed happily. “I haven’t been to D.D.’s on the Cove in months. How about you?”
“Fine with me.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a booth overlooking the marina. The Christmas decorations were still up but would be coming down after the first of January. When that happened, the town would look dull and drab, Corrie mused. Winter, the rainy season of the Pacific Northwest, was her least favorite time of year.
They both ordered hot tea and crab-melt sandwiches.
Once they were settled with their tea and waiting for their lunch, Peggy surprised her by asking, “Did you get a Christmas postcard?”
The Beldons had been with Roy and Corrie the night the fruit basket arrived. Peggy also knew about the mysterious postcards. So did Linnette, but only because she’d accidentally found one. As far as Corrie knew, no one else in town was aware of the situation.
“An anonymous Christmas card came on the twenty-fourth,” Corrie said reluctantly. This was the last thing she wanted to discuss, and yet the need to confide in someone burned in her chest.