Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (131 page)

It didn't help that Warren took every opportunity to talk about
how good things had been between them. Justine didn't believe it, not for a
minute; still, it was comforting to have someone pay her that kind of
attention.

Not working and depressed, Seth had struggled emotionally. He'd
given up fishing in Alaska, and she was grateful. She wanted her husband with
her. Leif needed him. So did she.

It was during this time that she'd come up with the idea of
building a tearoom and giving it the ambience of England's Victorian era. The
plans were already in motion when Seth was approached by a family friend who
owned a boatyard and offered him a job in sales. Seth took it and turned out to
be a natural.

Later, thanks to Sheriff Troy Davis, Warren Saget was arrested,
tried and convicted of arson. Currently, he was serving time in prison.

Justine poked at the envelope with her finger. She expected to
feel
something.
Some emotion. Regret. Anger.
Something. Instead, she felt nothing. Only a sadness that Warren could have been
this vindictive, this desperate. He'd never forgiven her for leaving him and
he'd wanted to punish Seth for stealing away the one woman who understood him,
understood his needs.

“Are you going to read it?” Seth asked.

“Do you want me to?”

He thought about it, then nodded.

Personally, Justine would be content to toss the letter. Yet a
part of her wanted to know what Warren had to say. Taking a deep breath, she
opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She read it, then
crumpled it in one hand.

“What did he say?”

“Just that he'll be up for parole in a few years and wondered
if I'd be waiting for him when he's released.”

“You're joking!”

“The man is delusional,” she groaned. Even now, Warren seemed
to be living in a dreamworld. He'd convinced himself that she was pining for
him, anticipating his release. Needless to say, she had no interest in the man
who'd done his best to ruin her and Seth's lives.

Taking the letter, she threw it inside the recycling bin, among
the unwanted flyers and empty cereal boxes.

Seth grinned, and she grinned in reply. “Merry Christmas, my
dear husband.”

“Merry Christmas, my darling wife.”

Thirteen

“W
hat are we going to do?” Sophie whispered
to her older sister. “Nothing's turning out like we planned.”

“You're telling me?” Bailey muttered back. Dinner was on the
table. The lasagna, with the salad next to it, sat in the center. Wooden serving
utensils leaned against the side of the large salad bowl. The bread was out of
the oven, and the warm pungent scent of butter and garlic wafted through the
house.

Peering out the swinging kitchen door into the formal dining
room, Bailey saw that the situation was even worse than she'd realized. Mom was
in one corner of the room, deep in conversation with Ted Reynolds. Danielle and
Dad stood on the opposite side. Danielle appeared to be talking Kent's ears off,
no doubt regaling him with horror stories of the time she'd spent alone with his
daughters. She was clutching her cell phone—again. While Kent and Beth were
away, she'd made repeated calls but hadn't connected, growing more and more
frustrated. Her impatience with Bailey and Sophie had increased just as
quickly.

Okay, so that part of their plan had worked perfectly. Danielle
had been stuck with the two of them, and she hadn't liked it one bit. She'd been
outsmarted by Beth and wasn't in any mood to be friendly with Bailey and Sophie.
Besides, she was distracted, frequently calling and texting some unknown
person.

Not long after their parents left, Bailey and Sophie had
learned that Danielle knew next to nothing about making a Caesar salad. She
assumed all salad dressing came out of a bottle. When Bailey informed her their
mother made her own, Danielle snarled that she could make her own, too, only she
needed a recipe. Tearing through Beth's cookbooks, she finally came up with one
but was disgusted by half the ingredients. No way was she using anchovies! In
the end, she'd opted for the bottled Italian dressing she'd found in the
fridge.

“Your mother makes her own dressing. Oh, yeah, I can tell!”
Danielle had brandished the half-f bottle. “That's the most ridiculous thing
I've ever heard,” she'd raged. “You're just saying that so I'll feel inferior.”
Danielle fumed until Kent returned. Her cell phone was in her hands constantly,
and her thumbs worked at sending text messages. Bailey and Sophie had several
whispered conversations about it, wondering who she was trying so hard to
reach.

Danielle had cornered Kent in the dining room, her mouth moving
at warp speed. It didn't look as if Dad had an opportunity to say much of
anything.

Bailey refused to believe he was dumb enough to actually fall
for Danielle. It contradicted everything she knew about her father.

The instant their parents had walked in the house, Bailey
sensed something was wrong. She'd quickly discovered the cause. Mom had invited
Ted Reynolds to dinner. Oh, great. Based on what she'd heard from Beth, Bailey
had suspected for a month or two that Ted was interested in their mother. The
invitation had probably been a defensive move on Beth's part; unfortunately,
it'd sent the wrong message to Dad.

Now Bailey and Sophie were battling on two fronts. They
certainly could've done without this additional complication.

“Look at them,” Sophie muttered as the sisters peeked out the
door. Mom was still talking to Ted, with her back to Dad, who also had his back
to her. If that wasn't bad enough, Danielle chattered at their father like a
noisy crow. Her parents couldn't even look at each other. Communication, what
little there was of it, had come to a complete standstill.

“This isn't going to work.” Bailey felt like dumping the
so-called Caesar salad over her parents' heads. “We need to figure out what to
do next.”

Sophie nodded. “We've got to think of something fast.”

“This divorce should never have happened,” Bailey moaned—not
for the first time. If she or Sophie had guessed their parents were planning to
split up, the girls would've stepped in much earlier. Now the situation was much
more difficult, and there were other people involved. Now she and her sister
were stuck cleaning up the mess.

Bailey shrugged. She brought the salad plates into the dining
room and said, “Dinner's ready if you'd like to sit down.” She did her best to
sound cheerful and festive.

They took the chairs closest to where they stood. That put
Danielle beside their father, and Ted and their mother across from them, leaving
the two end chairs for Bailey and Sophie.

“Mom made the lasagna,” Bailey said, although everyone already
knew that. Before she could mention Danielle's role in their dinner, the other
woman broke in.

“And I made the salad and the bread, which I'm sure you'll find
delicious.”

Both men smiled, apparently impressed with the woman who'd
managed to spread garlic butter on a sliced baguette. From their admiring gazes,
one would think Danielle was qualified to open her own restaurant.

Bailey wanted to point out that the lasagna had required a
great deal more expertise than buttering bread. She opened her mouth, but before
she could utter a word, she caught her mother's look. Funny how much Mom could
communicate in a single glance. Bailey snapped her mouth shut.

Beth served generous slices of lasagna. The salad and bread
were passed around the table to sighs of appreciation. Ted poured the wine he'd
brought with him. After filling the glasses, he looked around the table. “A
toast?”

They all raised their goblets, but before Ted could speak,
their father beat him to it. “To a wonderful meal shared with family and
friends.”

“Hear, hear,” Ted added. They all touched the rims of their
glasses, then tasted the wine.

“This is excellent,” Beth said, praising Ted's choice.

“Very good,” Kent agreed.

Wine, Bailey mused. That was it. A common link—her parents were
both interested in wine. Well, so was Ted, but she was going to ignore that.

“It's a pinot noir,” Ted was saying, “from Oregon.”

“Ted and I discovered it a couple of weeks ago at a fundraising
event,” Beth said. “I generally prefer the rich, deep reds, so this one took me
by surprise.”

Oh, yes, life was full of surprises, Bailey thought. Some of
them weren't pleasant, either—her mother and father being a prime example.

Dinner became less awkward as they enjoyed the wine and the
meal. Conversation revolved around the holidays. Beth talked about the ski trip
to Whistler, and the girls chimed in, excited at the prospect of an entire week
on the slopes. In the past it had been a family trip, with their father
included.

As soon as everyone had finished, Bailey and Sophie jumped up,
eager for an excuse to leave.

Bailey carried two dinner plates into the kitchen and set them
in the sink. Sophie followed with two more.

“Why didn't you
do
something?” her
sister hissed. “Getting Mom and Dad back together was your idea.”

“That doesn't mean I have to do everything, does it?” she
returned in a heated whisper. A few suggestions from her younger sister
certainly would've helped.

Back in the dining room, Bailey could see that Danielle was
texting on her cell phone again, keeping it hidden below the table, although
everyone knew what she was doing.

“I'm afraid we'll have to leave early,” Kent said reluctantly.
“Unfortunately, Danielle isn't feeling well.”

“Can I get you anything?” Beth asked, sounding concerned.

Bailey wanted to suggest a broom, but her little joke was
unlikely to be appreciated, so she said nothing.

“I apologize,” Danielle murmured, pressing her fingertips to
her temple. “I have a terrible headache that won't go away.”

A headache? That was the weakest excuse in the book. A regular
ol' headache? Couldn't she be a bit more imaginative? Perhaps a sprained thumb
from all that texting?

“So you won't be able to come to church services with us?”
Sophie asked with such a lack of sincerity it was embarrassing.

“I think I should get Danielle back to the bed-and-breakfast,”
their father said.

Mom didn't waste any time retrieving their coats. Standing at
the front door, their dad loitered a moment, as if he wanted to say something
else. “It was a lovely day,” he finally said.

“Thank you,” Beth said simply.

“Kent?” Danielle insisted.

“When will I see you again?” Kent asked, directing the question
to Beth. His eyes held hers.

“Ah…”

“Mom.” Bailey jabbed her elbow into her mother's side.

“Tomorrow?” Beth suggested, poking her right back. “Christmas
morning. You and Danielle are welcome to join us.”

Danielle shook her head. “I doubt—”

Kent cut her off. “What time?”

“Anytime you want, Dad,” Bailey threw in. “Early, though. You
should be here when we open gifts.”

“I have a
really
bad headache,”
Danielle reminded him.

“Why don't we wait until morning and see how Danielle feels,”
Beth said.

Their mother was being far too congenial. In fact, she was
ruining everything. Bailey had hoped it would be just the four of them. If her
parents could be together, remember Christmases past and enjoy each other's
company, then maybe they'd finally figure things out.…

Their father shook Ted's hand. Why did everyone have to be so
darned polite? The two men locked eyes for an instant. Bailey hoped her father
was staking claim to Beth, but she couldn't read his expression.

“Bailey and I'll do dishes,” Sophie offered.

Bailey stared at Sophie. What was her sister doing? The last
thing they needed was to give their mother time alone with the local vet. She
was half-smitten with him already.
Smitten.
That was
an old-fashioned word, one their grandmother might have used, but Bailey had
always been fond of it.

She followed her sister into the kitchen. “Why'd you do that?”
she cried.

“I thought you wanted to discuss ideas about getting Mom and
Dad together.”

“By leaving her alone with
Ted?
”

“Oh…yeah. I guess I didn't think about that.”

“No kidding! Well, you keep an eye on them,” commanded Bailey.
“If they get too close, tell me.” Sophie obediently pushed the door open a crack
and looked out. Bailey started loading the dishwasher. Thankfully, their mother
had emptied it earlier, so all Bailey had to do was put the rinsed dishes
inside.

“You ready to go back out?” she asked five minutes later.

Sophie shook her head. “No,” she said flatly. “Go ahead without
me.”

“No.” It was important to Bailey that they present a united
front.

Her sister took her time transferring the leftover salad to
another bowl and wrapping up the bread, which Bailey noticed had barely been
touched. She didn't want to be catty but Danielle had been a little too generous
with the garlic. Their father hadn't tasted more than a bite or two. And Bailey
was convinced he'd only eaten that to be polite.

To her credit, Danielle had created a halfway decent salad
using the bottled dressing. But then who could go wrong with store-bought
dressing?

“What are Mom and Ted doing now?” Sophie asked.

Bailey peeked out the swinging door, stepping around her
sister. She saw that her mother and Ted had returned to the dining room table
and were finishing their coffee. The atmosphere was almost…intimate, vastly
different from what it'd been earlier. His arm across the back of an empty
chair, Ted was leaning back, speaking animatedly about one thing or another.
Whatever he was saying obviously amused Beth, who laughed more than once. She
looked relaxed and at ease.