Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (43 page)

“He'll get used to the idea soon enough.” Linc said, hoping that was true.

“You don't know my father.”

“We'll give him time,” Linc said. “I'll do everything I can to prove to your family that I'm going to be a good husband.”

“It won't matter,” she whispered. “Daddy will never forgive me…. He was still angry about Geoff and—and then I married you.”

“Do you want to end the marriage?” he felt obliged to ask.

“No, never,” she said, her arms tightening around him.

“Me, neither,” Linc murmured, and he thought he felt her smile against his shoulder. “Come on,” he said, easing her out of his arms. “We have some celebrating to do.”

She looked up at him blankly.

“I signed the final papers for the garage this afternoon, remember?”

Lori smiled weakly, then slipped her arms around him again. “I don't care what my family thinks. I'm grateful I married you.”

Linc was grateful, too. Swinging her into his arms, he moved toward the bedroom.

“Will it always be like this?” she asked, sighing as she kissed his jaw.

“I hope not,” he said with a chuckle. “This much happiness just might kill me.”

Three

S
taring at the phone on his desk, Will Jefferson mentally prepared to call Shirley Bliss—again. Twice now she'd come up with a convenient excuse to turn down his invitations. Either the woman had an incredibly active social life or she wasn't interested. Without being vain, he found that difficult to believe. Okay, he was a
little
vain. He knew he was a good-looking charmer—smooth but not too smooth. Smart, successful and sexy, the latter according to more than one woman.

He was also persistent. He hadn't come this far in life without a healthy dose of good old-fashioned grit. He'd returned to his hometown, purchased a failing art gallery and was determined to make a fresh start.

Admittedly he'd made his share of mistakes. If he had it to do over again, he would've done certain things differently. For one, he would've paid a lot more attention to his kid sister's best friend, Grace.

Years later Grace did attract his notice, but by then it was too late. They'd reconnected shortly after Will learned of Dan Sherman's death. He'd sent her a sympathy card and, on a whim, added his email address. Not long after that, they'd begun a friendly correspondence.

Will hadn't known about the crush Grace had on him while they were in high school. That information had soothed his ego. His marriage was deteriorating; he and Georgia were just going through the motions. About five years into the marriage he'd stumbled into an affair with one of the women from his office. Naturally he regretted it and begged Georgia to forgive him. She did, and he was grateful. Yet his indiscretion had always been there between them, like a bad break that had never totally healed. A broken limb could remain weak forever after, unable to tolerate pressure or stress.

Her forgiveness hadn't been complete, he realized now. It was as if she'd been waiting for him to do it again.

And he had.

But Will didn't blame Georgia. After all,
he
was the one who'd strayed. Still, his wife had given him the cold shoulder for so long that when a friendly young waitress flirted with him, he'd been flattered and receptive. Sally was young, attractive and impressionable, and he'd responded.

Georgia knew about it. She had to have known, but she didn't say a word and neither did he. Sally wanted him to leave Georgia and he might have if not for the fact that Georgia was diagnosed with breast cancer. He couldn't walk out on his wife when she needed him most. After two years Sally ended the relationship.

Thankfully Georgia recovered and for a while he thought they might be able to have a successful marriage. He'd tried to make her happy, to recapture what they'd shared in the early days. Each week he brought home flowers and gifts; he'd suggested date nights and made a genuine effort to win back his wife. Yet nothing he did seemed to bring the light of love and affection to her eyes. Apparently it was too late; he'd cheated not once but twice, and she never trusted him again.

At that point, he was only in his late forties and, except for convenience and companionship, his marriage was dead. In the years that followed he had several other affairs. Georgia no longer seemed to mind and after a while these little flings didn't bother his conscience, either. As it was, he and Georgia lived more like siblings than husband and wife. And yet they stayed together. He supposed it was easier for both of them than not staying together, particularly since their business and social lives were intertwined.

He'd misled Grace into thinking he was divorcing Georgia. He didn't want to lose her the same way he had Sally. He'd fully intended to explain his situation…when the time felt right. Grace was everything he wanted, but Will had blown it. Before he could explain the whole complicated mess, she was out of his life. Nothing he said or did afterward changed her resolve. What she never knew, what he'd never had a chance to tell her, was that if she'd asked he would've left Georgia. Not right away but soon. As soon as he'd made the necessary arrangements.

Will had done more harm than good in his efforts to get her back. By this time Grace had met and fallen in love with Cliff Harding. She wanted nothing more to do with Will. Desperate to prove he cared, Will had acted like a total fool at the farmers' market and started a fist-fight with Cliff. He must've been out of his mind. The incident still made him cringe with embarrassment.

It was at this stage that Will's life began to fall apart. Georgia found out about Grace, although they hadn't done anything more than email and talk on the phone. Still, his online relationship was the crack that broke his marriage wide-open. After all the years, all the extramarital affairs Georgia had purposely ignored, she left him because he'd sent a few emails to an old friend. Ironic, to say the least.

In retrospect, Will was relieved. His marriage had been over for years. Although he'd never expected to reach retirement age alone, that was his life now. Hard as it was to accept at the time, he and Georgia were better off apart.

Once the divorce was final, Will had moved home, back to Cedar Cove and the only family he had. Returning to town after all these years hadn't been easy, especially since he'd arrived with nothing but a rental truck and a few suitcases. He'd sublet an apartment while he searched for some way to fill his time.

Olivia was the one who suggested he consider buying the art gallery. Leave it to his sister to steer him toward a worthy purpose. The gallery had been about to close, and he'd bought the business, any remaining stock and the building itself, which was one of the oldest in town and in need of repair. To this day Will wasn't sure why he'd thought he could make a success of this. But then, he'd always enjoyed a challenge.

Drawing a deep breath, he picked up the phone. He knew Shirley Bliss's number by heart. He'd called so often that his fingers hit the numbers automatically.

Shirley, a widowed artist whose work he'd displayed, interested him in a way no woman had since Grace Sherman—Grace Harding now. He'd fallen for Grace and come so close to making her part of his life; the fact that it hadn't happened still depressed him.

“Hello.” Shirley's teenage daughter, Tanni, answered his call.

“Hello, Tanni,” Will said cheerfully. “How's it going?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“You heard from Shaw lately?” he asked. By pulling a few strings he'd been instrumental in getting Tanni's boyfriend into the San Francisco Art Institute. He wanted
Shirley to be in his debt, although so far she'd shown little appreciation.

“Not really.”

The girl's voice tensed. Clearly this was a delicate subject and one he should avoid.

“Is your mother home?” he asked next. Not having had children, Will felt at a distinct disadvantage while talking to teenagers.

“She's in the dungeon.”

“The dungeon?”

“The basement,” Tanni said. “Where she works.”

Oh, her studio. “Would you mind letting her know I'm on the phone?”

The girl hesitated. “Mom doesn't like to be disturbed when she's working.”

Evidently Tanni was prepared to stand guard over the moat leading to the castle—and the dungeon. “Just tell her I'm on the phone, if you would.”

“All right.” She didn't seem pleased about it.

Will heard Tanni set the phone down and walk away, her shoes tapping against the floor. Then he could hear her shout into the basement. After a few minutes she returned and picked up the receiver. “Mom says if you sold another piece, would you please put the check in the mail.”

“I didn't. Tell her I have a question for her.”

“Okay.”

Once again Will heard her set the phone down, trot across the room and shout. He didn't hear anything for another minute or so.

Then… “This is Shirley.”

If he'd recognized the lack of welcome in Tanni's voice, it came through even more clearly in her mother's.

“I hope I'm not interrupting you.” Will forced himself to sound his most charming.

“It's fine.” Some of the irritation left her voice. “I was in the middle of something but I needed a break, anyway.”

He relaxed a bit. “I called to see if you were available this Saturday night. I have tickets for the Playhouse.” He didn't give her a chance to reject yet another invitation. Instead, he continued in a conversational tone. “Peggy Beldon stopped by earlier in the week. She's redecorating the master bedroom and bought an original piece—a collage. She mentioned that Bob's starring in the production of
Fiddler on the Roof.
That's a favorite of mine and I like to support our local theater.”

“This Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Will, I'm sorry but I promised Miranda I'd attend the fundraiser at the library this Saturday.”

Okay, he'd half expected this kind of response. “I might be able to trade in the tickets for another night.” He wasn't giving up that easily.

“Unlikely,” Shirley said, and he heard a hint of regret in her voice—or thought he did. “I read in the
Chronicle
this morning that the tickets have completely sold out. The theater might add extra shows.”

“Well, maybe we can go to one of those.”

“Maybe,” Shirley said.

“What about Sunday?” he blurted out, not sure what to suggest. A stroll along the waterfront? A movie? Coffee? He'd tried all those before and gotten nowhere.

“That won't work, either. Miranda and I—”

“Just who is Miranda?” Will asked, gritting his teeth. He'd never heard the other woman's name before and all of a sudden it was Miranda this and Miranda that. He hadn't even met the woman and already he had the distinct feeling she was a troublemaker.

“Miranda's a good friend. We've known each other
for years. We drifted apart but after my husband died we reconnected. Miranda lost Hugh, her husband, about five years ago. You might've heard of him—Hugh Sullivan, a landscape painter. Anyway, she's been helping me navigate widowhood.”

Will wanted to be the one to guide Shirley to new love and a new life. He'd hoped they could find this path to happiness together.

“I think it might be best if we tried to get together another time,” she said with finality.

Before he could propose another potential outing, Shirley ended the conversation. “Thanks for calling, Will. Bye now.”

He couldn't come up with anything fast enough to stop her from disconnecting. When he started to sputter something, the telephone droned in his ear. Shaking his head, he hung up.

Perhaps he was losing his touch. It wasn't his looks. Even now that he'd grown older, his brown hair with its silver accents gave him the distinguished appearance of a man who was confident and comfortable with himself.

He routinely worked out; he wasn't fanatical about exercise but he kept in shape. Although he'd recently purchased the gallery, he'd managed his finances effectively. He wasn't rich, but he was well off.

Georgia, being Georgia, had been more than fair in their divorce settlement. Apparently she felt guilty for filing. Another irony, since he was the one who'd cheated on her. He knew his mother and sister kept in touch with his ex. He didn't. Contact between them would be just too…awkward.

Will didn't know what it was about him that scared Shirley Bliss away. So many women fawned over him, and attracting the opposite sex had never been a problem until he met Shirley.

Despite her skittishness, Will sensed that she was attracted to him, that she wanted to know him better. For whatever reason, Shirley couldn't or wouldn't let him get close.

Then he understood.

The answer should've been obvious. Shirley
did
want to date him. She felt, just as he did, that they'd be terrific together. She felt the same sparks Will did.

But Shirley was afraid.

That was understandable. He should've recognized it long ago. After years of being married to the same man, Shirley was terrified of what would happen if she allowed herself to have strong feelings for someone else.

Now that he'd figured it out, Will decided he could afford to take some time to work on a strategy to convince her….

Saturday night, after closing, he looked through the gallery windows and caught a glimpse of the flickering lights of the shipyard across the cove. Down at the marina, sailboats bobbed on the gentle swell of the wake created by the Bremerton ferry. From there, his gaze moved toward the library. He'd read about the fundraiser but hadn't thought much about it until Shirley said she had plans to go with her friend.

Doubt flickered in his mind. He couldn't help wondering if what she'd said was true—if she really was at the fundraiser. The only way of confirming it was to show up there himself. He didn't have any other plans, since he wasn't willing to attend the theater on his own. So Will made the sudden decision to become a library supporter. He still found it uncomfortable to see Grace, but she needed to know he'd moved on, too, and there was no better way to prove it.