Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (50 page)

“Oh, yes… Of course.” Mary Jo had watched the movie with her brothers on DVD. The battle-scene action had upset her—and now she knew of someone who'd actually been there, part of the battle. Someone who might have died there. Someone whose handwriting she'd become familiar with, whose thoughts she was privy to.

“I believe the English and Canadians were on Juno Beach and Sword Beach,” Mack went on. “Omaha and Utah were definitely where the Americans landed.”

“Jacob—”

“Jacob wouldn't have been on the beaches,” Mack said.

“He wouldn't?”

“He was a paratrooper, wasn't he?”

“Yeah. He was.” She wasn't entirely sure what that meant, other than that he jumped out of planes.

“Then he must've parachuted in behind enemy lines.”

“‘Behind enemy lines,'” she echoed in a hushed voice, hardly aware she'd spoken the words aloud.

Mack glanced over at her. “That doesn't automatically mean Jacob was killed,” he said again.

“I know, but without another letter after the invasion, it doesn't bode well.”

Mack didn't say anything for a minute or two. “Are you sure there wasn't more than the cigar box hidden under the floorboards?” he eventually asked.

At the time, Mary Jo had been so excited about finding the letters that she hadn't searched further.

“Maybe we should go and look,” she said. “Want to do it now?”

“Why not.”

She led the way into her bedroom. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that Jacob Dennison had been killed. Perhaps that was why Joan had hidden his letters. She couldn't bear to part with them, but couldn't bear to look at them, either.

Mack opened the closet door and got down on all fours to remove the loose planks. Mary Jo doubted that anything else could've been hidden inside that small space.

“Do you have a flashlight?” Mack asked.

“Yes, hold on.” She hurried into the kitchen, opening the utility drawer and pulling out the flashlight. Linc had bought it for her and she was grateful because she'd already used it once during a power outage.

When she returned to the bedroom, Mary Jo found Mack lying on his stomach.

“Here,” she said, handing him the light.

Mack stretched out his arm and took it from her.

“Do you see anything?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“You
do?
” She couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Wait,” he said in a half grunt. Whatever he'd uncovered was in his hands now. He scrambled into a kneeling position and gave Mary Jo what appeared to be a small square with a piece of oilcloth wrapped around it.

“What is it?” she asked, hardly able to believe her eyes.

“Open it and see,” Mack said.

Mary Jo knelt on the floor next to him and reverently peeled off the protective rag to discover a small brown
book, closed with a tiny hinged lock. Across the top
Five Year Diary
was written in faded gold lettering.

“It's Joan's diary,” Mary Jo exclaimed. She pressed it to her heart. At last they'd have their answer. At last they'd learn the fate of the man who had become so real to them.

If Mack hadn't thought to look in the hiding space again, she might never have seen this diary. “Thank you, Mack,” she said, and spontaneously leaned forward to kiss him. It was a simple kiss, but it instantly stirred Mary Jo's emotions.

Neither of them moved for a long moment and then, as if drawn together by some outside force, they simultaneously reached for each other….

The diary was forgotten as Mary Jo threw her arms around Mack and gave herself over to his kiss.

Nine

W
ill Jefferson was certain he'd made some headway with Shirley Bliss. After several disappointing conversations, she'd finally accepted a date. This was no small achievement on his end; Shirley had agreed to attend a Seattle art show featuring the work of Larry Knight.

When the invitation arrived Will knew right away that this event would interest Shirley. She'd always been impressed by his connection with a major art-world star like Knight. Will had asked her out on several other occasions in the past month and she'd had excuses every time. He'd prefer to believe she would've been eager to accompany him if not for her “prior engagements.”

He knew at least one of those engagements was real, the one with her friend Melinda, Matilda…
M
something-or-other Sullivan.
Miranda.
That was it. He and Miranda had chatted briefly on the phone and she'd said she'd assist him when necessary. So far, he hadn't needed her. She hadn't sounded any friendlier during that conversation than she had the night of the library event. However, Will was confident he'd win her over without a lot of effort.

Despite his offer to pick her up at home, Shirley had insisted on meeting him at the Bremerton ferry. He wasn't
happy about it, but at this stage he was willing to let her set the parameters of their relationship. If she wanted to go slow, that was fine; he was a patient man.

When he got to Bremerton, Will found Shirley waiting in the ferry terminal.

“It's good to see you.” He held out his hands as he walked toward her and leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

“Good to see you, too.” She stepped back quickly. He knew she wasn't physically demonstrative, especially in public, so he wasn't offended.

She looked lovely, dressed in a bold black-and-teal outfit. Will felt fortunate to have her at his side. He'd taken care with his appearance, too. He recognized the importance of dressing well and didn't mind splurging on suits that fit him properly. In his experience, money spent on a man's wardrobe produced dividends. Clothes made the man; that might be a cliché but Will was in full agreement.

“I'm so glad you invited me,” she said as they walked onto the ferry. “I'm a big fan of Larry Knight's.”

They made their way to the front, getting to the choice seats before those who'd driven on could reach them. They sat on the comfortable padded benches across from each other.

“Larry Knight is a friend of mine,” Will reminded her. He didn't want to point out that if it weren't for him, Tanni's boyfriend would never have gotten into that San Francisco art school. Thanks to him and his connections, Shaw was doing what he wanted—and at a considerable distance from Shirley's daughter. Fortunately, Larry felt Shaw had talent and was willing to help him.

“I really admire his work, especially some of the recent pieces. You know, the ones that were influenced by sixties pop art.”

“Yes, he's very talented.” Will knew he sounded a bit cursory.

“He's more than talented,” Shirley said. “The man is a genius.”

Will frowned. Saying Larry was a genius was going overboard in his opinion. Maybe Shirley thought too highly of the man. Nevertheless, Will was determined to make this an evening she'd long remember. The dinner he'd arranged for afterward was guaranteed to impress her.

“He's worked in almost every medium,” she said, and seemed unable to keep her admiration at bay. “I don't think I've ever met anyone as versatile as Larry. Well, actually, we
haven't
met, not officially, but I'm familiar with his work and I almost feel I know him through you. It's such a privilege to finally meet him.”

Will was growing tired of this. “I've known Larry for years. We met in Atlanta in '96, at the unveiling of a painting he did for the Olympics,” Will said, bringing the conversation back to himself. He'd been involved in organizing the cocktail party and subsequent press. Truthfully, Georgia had done much of the work, but she preferred to remain in the background, whereas Will enjoyed the limelight.

Shirley nodded. “Were you aware Larry used to do cover art?”

“Cover art?”

“For novels.”

Will hadn't known about that part of Larry's portfolio. “Really?”

“At one time he illustrated children's books, too.”

He arched his eyebrows in a show of surprise. “He doesn't anymore, does he?”

“No. He's priced himself out of that market and probably the commercial art market, as well.”

Will murmured something noncommittal.

“I'm so thrilled to have this opportunity to meet him,” Shirley said, sounding more animated than he'd ever heard her.

Will crossed his legs and suspected now might be a good time to reinforce the fact that her entrée to the great Larry Knight was due to him. “Like I said earlier, we're old friends.” He didn't mention that the artist had lost his wife five years before, because it gave Larry and Shirley a common bond, which didn't do anything to set his mind at ease.

“Oh, I know,” she said reverently.

He nodded, basking in her appreciation.

“If I wasn't for you and Larry, Shaw would probably still be working at Mocha Mama's.”

Some of his tension ebbed. Shirley understood; he hadn't invited her so she could fawn over Larry Knight. She was
his
date.

The Seattle Art Museum was already crowded when they arrived. The walk from the ferry dock up to First Avenue had been exhilarating. It was a beautiful spring night, and the “glitterati” were out in force. Will felt he and Shirley blended perfectly with the rich and cultured art lovers making their way to the event. The tickets hadn't been cheap, and Will hoped Shirley appreciated that he'd put down serious money for this opportunity. He'd also made dinner reservations at an expensive restaurant.

When they entered the gallery, Larry was standing with a group of people, all chatting and drinking a variety of high-end wines, if the bottles on display were any indication. Larry was a tall man, two or three inches over six feet. He wasn't big or muscular but he had a commanding presence. These days he sported a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and tonight he wore a Western-style
jacket. His hair, a bit too long by Will's standards, was combed back from his forehead.

“Come on. I'll introduce you,” he said, steering Shirley in Larry's direction. Knowing how many people Larry met, Will hoped there wouldn't be an awkward moment before he recognized him.

He waited politely until Larry was free, then stepped forward. “Larry, I'd like to introduce my friend, Shirley Bliss.”

“Will Jefferson.” Larry shook hands with him. “Wonderful to see you again.”

“You, too,” Will told the other man, hoping his relief wasn't evident.

Next, Larry turned to Shirley and extended his hand. “Shirley Bliss,” he repeated slowly. “I recognize the name. You're an artist?”

Shirley blushed profusely and seemed too tongue-tied to answer.

“Shirley is a fabric artist from Cedar Cove,” Will said.

“Shirley Bliss,” Larry said, as if the name had suddenly clicked in his mind. “Of course. I've seen your work.”

“You have?” Shirley seemed stunned by this revelation.

“Yes. Will here sent me a photograph of his gallery, and I had an excellent view of the dragon, which he said is currently on display. An incredible piece.”

“Why…thank you. That's one of the biggest compliments of my career.”

“Red wine or white?” Will asked brusquely.

Shirley glanced at him. “Red, please.”

“While Will's getting your wine, allow me to show you one of my own pieces.”

“I'd be honored.”

Will scowled as Larry led Shirley away, one hand
under her elbow. He didn't quite know how things had gotten so quickly out of control. He sensed an instant rapport between Larry and Shirley, and it worried him.

Will located a waiter and obtained two glasses of red wine. When he rejoined Shirley and Larry and handed her the cabernet, she regarded it blankly for a second, then thanked him.

“We've dominated too much of your time,” Will said abruptly, prepared to usher Shirley to the opposite side of the room.

“We have,” Shirley agreed with obvious reluctance. “I can't tell you how much I enjoyed speaking with you, Larry. Thank you again.”

“No, thank
you.
” Larry bowed his head slightly and held her gaze a moment longer than necessary.

“Shall we look around?” Will suggested.

“That would be lovely,” she said breathlessly.

Will drew her away from Larry but saw how Shirley's eyes followed the other man as he strolled about the room, greeting his guests and chatting with them.

As they surveyed the paintings, Will had to appreciate Larry Knight's talent—although he wasn't the least bit inclined to appreciate the attention Larry had paid to
his
date.

Each canvas seemed to mesmerize Shirley. “His use of color and shadow is awe-inspiring,” she said at least a dozen times.

Will knew Larry's work sold for six figures and up. At those prices they
should
inspire awe.

An hour later, the room started to clear. Will was about to suggest they leave when Larry unexpectedly sought them out.

Shirley's eyes lit up as he approached. “Do you two have dinner plans?” he asked.

“We do,” Will said, not giving Shirley an opportunity to answer.

“That's a shame,” Larry said. “I'd like it if you could join me at a private supper this evening. I fly out early in the morning. It'll be my agent, the exhibit's curator, a few other people and me. We're getting together at a club not far from here.”

“Unfortunately, we can't,” Will said, trying to sound genuinely sorry.

Shirley shot him a pleading glance. “Can't we change our plans?”

“Unfortunately, no. I've made dinner reservations.”

“Oh.” She was obviously none too happy.

Will locked eyes with the other man, warning him to butt out. Shirley was
his
date and Larry was treading on
his
territory.