Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (121 page)

“Don't say that,” Bailey moaned. “Besides, you'll
have
to come.”

“Nope. I don't like Danielle.”

“Me, neither.”

“There's got to be something we can do,” Sophie said.

“What?” Bailey asked in frustration, which was immediately
followed by discouragement. “We can't let this happen. We just can't.”

“I agree. Think, Bailey. You always come up with good
plans.”

“I'm trying, I'm trying.”

Sophie kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the bed.
“First, we have to figure out what Danielle wants. No woman that young and
perfect-looking would ever date our dad.”

Bailey nodded. As harsh as it sounded, Sophie wasn't saying
anything she hadn't already considered.

“We could introduce her to a younger man.”

“Who?” Bailey asked.

“Jeff is cute.”

“Mom's foreman? He's married. I don't want to be responsible
for breaking up a marriage in order to get our parents back together.”

“Yeah, that's bad,” Sophie agreed. “Okay, who else is there?
It's got to be somebody young. I mean, Dad's way over forty.”

“So is Mom.”

“Oh, Mom,” Sophie said miserably, flopping back onto the bed.
“She knew. She was so stoic when she introduced herself to Danielle, I wanted to
scream.”

Bailey had been too shocked to tear her eyes from her father.
When she did look at her mother, she couldn't bear the return of the polite
frozen smile. From the moment she and Sophie had mentioned that their father
would be coming for Christmas, they'd both noticed a change in her.

In the beginning, when she'd heard the news, Beth had seemed
confused and a bit panicky. Over dinner the night before, she'd peppered them
with questions about their father. She was interested, all right. Interested and
intrigued and, after a while, Bailey had sensed a definite excitement. She'd
seemed happy, and for the first time since the divorce, they'd seen a brightness
in her eyes.

It was exactly the reaction Bailey and Sophie had been looking
for. Over the past three years, Mom had put on a great act. To all outward
appearances, she was content; she certainly claimed to be. Her new life suited
her just fine, she said. What had frightened the girls into taking action was
the fact that their mother had started to casually drop Ted Reynolds's name into
their conversations.

Beth's eagerness about seeing their dad convinced both Bailey
and Sophie that all this talk about contentment was false. They'd been up half
the night whispering in the dark, so sure they were right—and now this.

“Have you got any ideas yet?” Sophie sounded worried.

“Where's Mom?”

“Where she always goes when she's upset. She's with her
dogs.”

“With her dogs,” Bailey echoed. The kennel was a place of
comfort for Beth, a place of solace. The thought of her mom sitting on the
ground with her precious animals gathered around her made Bailey want to
weep.

“Where did Dad and Danielle go for lunch?”

“I don't know....”

He'd invited Bailey and Sophie to join them, but of course
they'd declined.

“We should've gone with him,” Bailey said.

“No way.” Sophie shook her head. “I am not socializing with
her.
”

Bailey reviewed various options that began occurring to her.
Yes, it would work. She hopped onto the bed and tucked her legs underneath
her.

Sophie stared at her. “What are you thinking?”

“We need to show Dad that Danielle's completely wrong for
him.”

“Well, duh. Just how are we going to do that?”

“There
are
ways.” Bailey gave a
conspiratorial smile.

Immediately, Sophie straightened. “You think we can do it?”

“I don't just think, I know. Watch out, Danielle. You're in for
it now.”

Four

J
udge Olivia Griffin pulled into the
parking lot at the Pancake Palace. She'd ordered two coconut cream pies for
their Christmas Eve dinner at Justine's. After the meal, they'd attend church
services, then head over to Noelle's birthday party. Picking up the pies was on
the list of errands she needed to run before collecting Mom and Ben that
evening.

The restaurant was packed, which surprised her. She hadn't
expected it to be this busy on Christmas Eve Day. But she should have, she
mused, as she hunted for a parking space at the back of the lot. Based on last
year's experience, her daughter had warned her. With a firm conviction that
family came first, Justine had decided to close the Tea Room for Christmas Eve
as well as Christmas Day. Her staff was thrilled with the unexpected gift of
this extra time off.

Inside the restaurant, Olivia stood in line at the counter
waiting her turn. Wave upon wave of happy voices washed through the room.
Looking around, she noticed the painted windows, decorated with a variety of
holiday scenes. Holly on one window, a snowman on another. She gazed across the
room and saw the Randall family in a booth with Cecilia's father, Bobby Merrick.
Holding fistfuls of crayons, the two Randall children were bent over their place
mats, solving puzzles, connecting the dots or just coloring.

Remembering her conversation with Cecilia the day before,
Olivia couldn't help releasing a sigh. The young mother had asked about Jordan,
Olivia's son and Justine's twin brother.

It seemed to Olivia that her entire life was divided by that
summer. Life before Jordan died and life afterward. Her world had imploded that
summer afternoon. No sooner had they buried their son than Stan, her husband,
announced that he wanted a divorce. Within a matter of months, she'd lost her
son
and
her marriage.

Watching Cecilia and Ian Randall now, sitting close together,
so attuned to each other, so much in love, she didn't regret denying their
divorce. How could she? She would've given anything if someone had done the same
for her and Stan. The pain of losing their son had been so horrific that,
instead of bringing them together, it had driven a wedge between them.

When Stan remarried only months after their divorce, Olivia's
friends had speculated that he'd been involved with Marge long before Jordan's
death. It'd been easy to believe, especially then. Her mother, who was reluctant
to say anything bad about anyone, felt Stan had acted irrationally in leaving
his family.

Irrationally? Their son was dead. How could either of them
remain rational? The grief had killed them, too.

It was all a moot point. Stan had married Marge, and some years
later they'd divorced, as well. For a time it seemed that he wanted to get back
together with Olivia and had done his best to thwart her budding romance with
Jack Griffin. By then, however, Olivia had fallen for Jack, and her sights were
set on the future instead of resurrecting the past. It was far too late for her
and Stan. When it became apparent that she wasn't interested, he'd found someone
else. Justine had told her that Susan, the new woman in his life, was living
with him now. Olivia assumed he wasn't willing to try marriage a third time.

Yesterday, Cecilia had asked if she still cried over Jordan.
Did a mother ever stop weeping over a lost child? Olivia doubted it. While going
through cancer treatments a couple of years ago, Olivia had become desperately
ill with an infection. From what others told her later, she knew she'd been
close to death. It was while her fever raged that Jordan had come to her. For
the briefest of moments she'd seen him as he was that summer, a skinny
thirteen-year-old, full of life, eager to prove himself. He'd been a happy boy,
smart and witty. Even now when she heard his favorite song by the group Air
Supply, tears would prick her eyes. When she thought of her son, she remembered
his ready smile, his ease with people, a natural charm that never failed to
endear him to others.

Once again, Olivia wondered what would have become of her son
had he lived. He had a variety of interests. He'd been good at math and loved to
take things apart, then put them back together. He might have been an engineer.
Then, too, he was often the go-between when Justine and James argued, helping
his siblings settle their differences. Perhaps he would've followed in her
footsteps and become an attorney.

Olivia felt a thickening in her throat and blinked back tears.
This was silly. Christmas was supposed to be joyous, festive. Now wasn't the
time to reminisce about Jordan.

Cecilia glanced up and, seeing Olivia, she smiled. Their eyes
connected—mother to mother. Heart to heart. Cecilia knew Olivia was remembering
Jordan. And Olivia knew Cecilia was remembering the infant daughter she'd held
so briefly in her arms.

Cecilia nodded and rested her head against Ian's shoulder. For
an instant Ian looked surprised, and then Olivia saw him reach for his wife's
hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Tammy, the hostess, touched Olivia's arm. “I have your pies,
Judge Griffin.”

“Oh…oh, sorry, I got distracted.” Olivia pulled out her wallet,
paid for the pies and carried them out to the car without looking back.

Olivia had just opened the driver's-side door when her cell
phone chirped. She dug it out of her purse, saw it was her husband and pushed
the talk button.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said.

“Where are you?” he asked, sounding rushed.

“The Pancake Palace, why?”

“Eric and Shelly arrived with the boys.”

“I didn't think they were due until five.” Her stepson and his
family were hours early. They'd driven from Reno to spend Christmas Eve with
Jack and Olivia at Justine's, and Christmas Day with Shelly's family. “Can you
feed them lunch or do you want me to come home?” she asked.

“Lunch isn't a problem. I'm calling because I need to know if
Beth Morehouse has any of those puppies left.”

“I'm sure she does.”

“Great. Eric was saying he wanted to get Tedd and Todd each a
dog after the first of the year, and he was hoping to find a couple of Labs. I
told him about Beth's situation and he's interested.”

“Oh, Jack, Beth would be so grateful!”

“That's what I thought. I'll give her a call and take Eric and
the boys out to her place later this afternoon. Do you want to meet us
there?”

“If I have time…”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She ended the call and dropped her cell back
in her purse. Beth would be thrilled to find homes for two more puppies.

Olivia's next stop was the Sanford assisted-living complex,
where her mother and stepfather had recently moved. The snow had been cleared
from the parking lot and the sidewalk swept and salted. Hugging her coat around
her, she hunched her shoulders against the wind and hurried inside.

A large, beautifully decorated Christmas tree sparkling with
lights and classic ornaments graced the entry. Red bows were attached to a set
of twin chandeliers. Six fresh wreaths festooned the second-floor railing and
left a lingering scent of pine. The complex had a homey, welcoming appeal.

Olivia saw Ben first. He was in the card room set off to the
side of the main room. He was apparently playing either pinochle or bridge, his
two favorite games. Olivia knew Charlotte was waiting for her upstairs. Her
mother insisted on reviewing their Christmas-dinner menu, although Olivia had
already prepared most of the dishes in advance. Tonight and tomorrow were for
family. She had no intention of spending Christmas Day in the kitchen, although
she planned to put the turkey in the oven sometime Christmas morning.

The menu was the same one they had almost every year, many of
the recipes directly from the cookbook Charlotte had compiled for Justine. Last
Christmas, Justine had made copies of her grandmother Charlotte's favorites for
the extended family and it was a much-loved treasure.

Olivia headed for the elevator without interrupting Ben's game
and went up to the third floor. Charlotte and Ben's small apartment was at the
end of the hall. The door was propped open, a sign to all who came that they
were welcome.

“Come in, come in,” Charlotte said, putting aside her knitting
and getting up. She was definitely moving more slowly, struggling a bit. Harry
had arranged himself on the back of the recliner, his tail hanging straight
down.

Olivia kissed her mother's cheek and urged her to sit again.
She herself sat down in Ben's recliner. An end table served as a catchall
between the two chairs, and Olivia saw not only Charlotte's knitting but Ben's
current crossword. Dutifully, she took out a pad and pen. “You wanted to talk
about Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, yes. I do hope you intend to serve that wonderful
artichoke appetizer.”

“Got it,” Olivia assured her. It was done and ready to go in
the oven. The artichoke and caramelized onion filling was baked in a flaky
dough. Everyone loved it. In fact, Olivia had made two because they were sure to
disappear quickly.

“The potato casserole?”

“Wouldn't be Christmas without it,” Olivia told her.

“Ben likes it with bacon crumbled on top.”

“I can do that.” Olivia made a notation on her pad to add bacon
to please Ben.

“Did Jack make his special cookies?”

Generally speaking, Jack in the kitchen was a laughing matter
but he had managed to prepare his favorite cookies—chocolate-dipped crackers
sandwiched with peanut butter. They were a hit every Christmas. The cookie had
been his own invention, and considering Jack's pride in the recipe, anyone would
think it had won him a Cooking Channel top-chef award.