74 Seaside Avenue

Page 29

“That’s such a big sin? He doesn’t mean anything to me. Suggesting that I’d have anything to do with him is an insult.”
He looked uncertain. “Have you spoken to him?”
“No,” she snapped, then remembered the encounter in the library. “He came into the library.”
“To see you?”
“He said it was to sign up for a library card.”
“And you believe that?”
The phone rang and Cliff grabbed the receiver. After the initial greeting, he said, “Just a minute, please. It’s the real estate agent,” he muttered, bringing her the phone.
She took it from him with a nod of thanks. “This is Grace Harding,” she said, astonished by how calm she managed to sound.
“Hello, Grace, this is Judy Flint from the rental agency.”
“Yes, Judy, what can I do for you?” All she wanted was to get off the phone and back to Cliff. This problem was too important to be deferred; if they didn’t settle it now, it would loom between them, growing more awkward all the time.
“I have a party interested in renting your house on Rosewood Lane
. They’ve given me a check for the first month’s rent.”
“Wonderful.”
“I’m just not sure about them….”
“Why not?” Grace didn’t want to go another month making payments on a house that sat empty. She’d been forced to refinance in order to cover a debt of her dead husband’s. Before committing suicide, Dan had borrowed money from his cousin, which Grace felt honor-bound to repay.
“The Smiths’ references are questionable and—”
“Judy, this really isn’t a good time. Can we discuss it later?”
“Well…”
“They gave you a check, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then rent the house,” she said, decision made.
“Grace, are you absolutely certain about this?”
“Yes,” she said rashly, intent on resuming her conversation with Cliff.
“Okay. I’ll tell the Smiths they can have the house.”
“Thank you.” Grace prepared to hang up the phone. “Bye—”
“You’ll need to come by and sign some paperwork.”
“Yes, of course,” she said. “Thank you, Judy. Goodbye now.” Before the other woman could make small talk, Grace concluded the call and put back the receiver. Turning to Cliff, she braced herself.
Cliff now stood on the other side of the kitchen. “You said you hadn’t spoken to Will, then you said he’d been in the library. So you saw him?”
“Yes, and we did speak.”
“You’re changing your story. Again.”
Grace felt like groaning with frustration. “I’d forgotten about it, and then I remembered. I wanted you to know the whole truth.”
“Which is?” Cliff crossed his arms. His body language couldn’t have been more obvious; he was protecting himself, warding off pain—or the threat of pain.
“Exactly what I told you,” she told him, raising her voice. “Will invited me to lunch. He said it was so we could clear the air. I declined. I want nothing more to do with Will Jefferson and he knows it. Despite that, he’s trying to create doubt and confusion between us and you’re letting him. I, for one, am not going to allow it. I married you. I love you and I want to be your wife until the day I die.”
Cliff faltered slightly. After a few seconds, he dropped his arms and sighed. “I didn’t have lunch. I think I might be a bit cranky.”
She felt the tension seep away. Studying him, she said, “You should know I’ve decided against ever cooking again.”
“You have?” Frowning, he eyed the chicken breasts thawing on the kitchen counter.
“If Susan cooked for you out of guilt, then I refuse to follow in her footsteps. As a result, I may very well have baked my last pie.”
“No!” Cliff’s protest was immediate.
“Compare me to Susan again and watch what happens.”
He smiled then, for the first time that afternoon, and opened his arms to her. “I’m a jealous idiot.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed, walking into his embrace. Their argument had frightened her, but the fact that Will held such power over her marriage was even worse.
“I’m sorry,” Cliff whispered.
“I am, too.” She clung to him, still shaken by what had almost happened. “I’m not Susan.”
“I know, and I hate myself for implying otherwise. But please, Grace, don’t keep anything from me again.”
“I won’t, I promise.” She closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart, and for a moment all they did was stand there, in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other.
“Grace?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think that apple pie is ruined?”
She saw him look longingly at the garbage. “I’m afraid so.”
Cliff’s chest expanded with a sigh of regret. “That’s what I thought.”
She lifted her head. “However, I made two apple pies and put the second one in the freezer. I’ll heat it up later.”
“Thank you.” He leaned down and kissed her, hands clasped at her back. “One more thing.”
“Yes.” She spread small kisses along his neck, taking pleasure in the intimacy they shared.
“What you said about not cooking anymore?”
“Oh, that.”
“How serious were you?”
“Well…for a suitable incentive I could be persuaded to reconsider.”
Cliff stroked her back slowly and with just the right pressure. “Do you have any suggestions on how I can make it up to you?”
Grace smiled at him. “I’d be more than happy to do that,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes and offering him her mouth. The lengthy kiss that followed was not only satisfying, it promised much, much more.
Suitable incentive, indeed.
Twenty-Four
Linnette McAfee had been in Buffalo Valley, North Dakota, for almost two weeks. Her meager savings had run out much faster than she’d expected; gas, food and motels had taken a lot of it, and she didn’t want to use her credit cards until she had money coming in.
She’d stayed off the main thoroughfares and stumbled onto this town by accident. Since it was almost lunchtime, she’d walked into the only decent-size restaurant around, a place called 3 of a Kind. Standing outside, she’d noticed a sign in the window advertising for a waitress. She was down to a couple of hundred dollars, so she decided to apply.
“You ever worked as a waitress?” asked a burly man with a leather vest and a long skinny ponytail. He had tattoos on both arms, and in other circumstances might have intimidated her. He’d introduced himself as Buffalo Bob and although he looked as if he belonged in a biker gang, his eyes were kind. Before she could answer, two small children came rushing in, calling him Daddy. Buffalo Bob scooped them up in his arms, which was enough to convince Linnette that she had nothing to fear from him. Later, she’d met his wife, Merrily, and discovered there was a third child, an infant who kept the young mother so busy she could no longer work in the restaurant.
Linnette had some experience waiting tables. Years ago, while she was still in high school, she’d worked in a neighborhood diner.
“Do you have references?” Buffalo Bob had asked once the kids had gone upstairs and they were able to resume the interview.
“No. And I don’t have a place to live, either.” She might as well lay her cards on the table. The name of the establishment certainly encouraged that, she’d thought with a smile.
He’d smiled back, but then tried to sound stern. “The job comes with a hotel room. It isn’t the Ritz so don’t get your hopes up, but it’s clean and has a television. We live here ourselves.” He eyed her speculatively. “You running from the law?”
“Absolutely not!” She’d been shocked that he’d even asked such a question.
“We’re not looking for trouble here,” he warned.
“I’m not bringing any with me,” she informed him primly.
Whatever his doubts, Buffalo Bob had offered her the job and Linnette had settled into this small town, which in many respects was like the one she’d left—with a couple of exceptions. It was smaller, and Cal Washburn didn’t live there.
This was Linnette’s first day off after working ten days straight and she planned to explore the area. She’d already met a few people. Hassie Knight, who had to be at least eighty, owned the pharmacy and seemed to be the person everyone went to for guidance or advice. It reminded her of the way people in Cedar Cove confided in Charlotte Rhodes. Maddy McKenna ran the grocery; she lived somewhere outside town with her husband and two children, a girl and a little boy. Linnette had enjoyed meeting all four of them the previous Sunday and taken an instant liking to Maddy. When her newfound friend asked her to visit the ranch, the two kids seemed eager to show Linnette around, especially once they learned she’d never seen a real buffalo. “Bison,” they corrected her in unison.
Maddy’s husband, Jeb, was quiet, smiling readily at his wife and family, although Maddy carried most of the conversation. Linnette saw that Jeb walked with a limp, but he didn’t seem self-conscious about it. He seconded Maddy’s invitation to come out to the ranch.
The sky was overcast as Linnette got into her car. She and Maddy had met for coffee a few days earlier, and Maddy had given her written directions to their ranch. Linnette could hardly wait to tell Gloria about these instructions, which would definitely amuse her sister. As a cop, Gloria had heard plenty of convoluted and downright incomprehensible directions from members of the public.
According to Maddy’s notes, Linnette was to drive 2.3 miles south of town, turn left at the dying oak, then follow the road until the dip and the rural route box with the black lettering. From there, she was to…Linnette flipped over the page.
The color of the sky reminded her of the flat gray of the navy vessels that congregated in the Cove. In the state of Washington, that usually presaged rain. She was sure it meant the same thing here. Just her luck, too—her first day off.
The sky was growing perceptibly gloomier. And it was hot. The heat seemed oppressive for September, unlike home, but what surprised Linnette most was how still everything was. Even with her windows down, she couldn’t hear any birds. The road was completely deserted.
Then she saw it.
A mass of black, twisting, spiraling cloud in the distance. She recognized the characteristic funnel shape of a tornado. A tornado? Here? Now? This couldn’t be happening!
The next thought that flashed through her mind was: What should I do? Her medical training kept her level-headed and calm as she analyzed the danger. Although the panic was quickly rising in her chest, she refused to give in. Keep calm, she told herself. Keep calm.
Her hands sweating, she gripped the steering wheel and pulled to a stop along the side of the road. Staying with the vehicle seemed to offer the best protection.