Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (97 page)

Neither seemed inclined to continue the conversation.

When Goldie delivered their meals, she set the soup in front of Rachel and the club sandwich by Bruce and then retreated one step. “Are you two not getting along?”

“What makes you ask that?” Rachel murmured.

“Both of you have the same sour look. It's not a good idea to eat together while you're arguing. Mel and me have been married for fifty-six years and we never eat or go to bed without resolving our differences.” She snorted. “Seems to me you two should do that, too—otherwise, you'll end up with stomachaches and blame the restaurant when it's your own fault.”

“You're right, Goldie,” Rachel said, without looking the other woman in the eye.

Grumbling under her breath, the opinionated waitress left them, shaking her head as if to say she'd done all she could to help.

Rachel picked up her spoon, although she doubted she'd be able to swallow any of her soup. She took a deep breath and glanced at Bruce.

“I'm sharing a house with a friend in Bremerton,” she whispered.

As she said that, Bruce reached across the table to take her hand. “Jolene pulled every trick in the book to keep me home. Pretending she was sick was just one. She wanted you to wait at the theater, not knowing where I was or whether I was even going to show up.”

It hurt that her stepdaughter disliked her so much she was willing to miss a night of fun with her friends for
the sole purpose of ruining Bruce's plans. This was about keeping him away from
her
. His wife…

“I've let Jolene control my life for far too long. I've set some rules for her. Dr. Jenner calls them boundaries, although they sound like plain old rules to me. Saying Jolene doesn't like it is putting it mildly.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “Ever since I've started seeing Dr. Jenner, she's gotten more rebellious.”

Rachel didn't know what to say. Depressed, she felt as if they'd never find a solution. The one suggestion she had was that they live apart until Jolene left for college. Then and only then would she and their baby move in with Bruce.

“Let's talk about more pleasant subjects,” Bruce said.

“Like what?”

“Christie and James. And their wedding.”

Caught up in her own personal crisis, Rachel hadn't thought about her best friend's sister in weeks.

Christie and James, Bobby Polgar's chauffeur and close friend, had gone to Vegas for the ceremony. Bobby and Teri had been married in Vegas, too, Rachel remembered fondly. On the surface those two were an unlikely couple; Teri was practical and emotionally astute, while Bobby, a professional chess player, lived—or used to live—an entirely cerebral life. His approach was logical rather than instinctive. Maybe because of that, they fit together perfectly, each respecting the other's skills and talents. If only her own marriage was as uncomplicated.

“Did you hear about the chess game?” Bruce asked.

“Bobby was in another tournament?”

“No, the video chess game.”

“What about it?” The last time she spoke to Teri, her friend had said something about Bobby and James having developed some sort of computer game. It involved chess
and a parallel universe. That was all she knew. Teri wasn't sure how it worked so she hadn't explained it too clearly. She was far too busy caring for their triplets to worry about chess or gaming.

Bruce smiled. “They sold it to a major gaming company. The deal's worth a whole lot of money and there's the potential for more games in the future. James has a real talent for this.”

“Who would've guessed James had it in him? He's always been so quiet and content to remain in the background.”

“Apparently all the paperwork's signed and the game's gone into production. It's going to be the biggest thing since World of Warcraft.”

“World of what?”

“Never mind.”

“So, how are Christie and James doing?”

His smile widened. “Well…”

“What?” Seeing him so amused made her want to smile, too.

“Christie's decided to fatten him up.”

She did smile now. James was tall and rail-thin, always had been as far as she knew. She remembered the first time she'd seen him. He'd come to the salon on an errand for Bobby. He'd looked so uncomfortable and out of place she was torn between sympathy and laughter. “I doubt it'll work. He's got one of those superefficient metabolisms.”

“In any case, Christie is cooking day and night. Teri said she's become more domesticated than a house cat. James wanted her to quit her job at Wal-Mart, which she did.”

“What about her classes at the community college?”
They'd been so important to Christie when she'd enrolled, and Rachel hated the thought of her dropping out.

“She's more determined to finish those than ever.”

“Good. She needs to do that for herself.”

“Whatever she wants, James is supporting her and eating well at the same time.” He paused, grinning. “Even if he stays exactly the same weight.”

Clearly Bruce had been to see Teri. “How are the triplets?”

“Growing like grass in August.”

“And Teri?”

“Great. The boys are sleeping better now and she looks like she's getting more rest. Bobby, too.”

They'd hired a nanny, whom Rachel had met, but Teri kept a close eye on her sons.

“She said you hadn't come over or called her in a while.” This sounded a bit accusatory.

Rachel knew that the instant she saw Teri she'd tell her about living with Nate. Teri was her best friend in all the world, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. The only solution, really, had been to avoid her altogether. Rachel missed her desperately, so she'd give her friend a call or visit soon. She was feeling stronger and it no longer needed to be such a secret that she was living and working in Bremerton.

“James and Christie are happy, then?”

“Sure seem to be.”

If he noticed the abrupt change of subject, he didn't comment. Instead, he squeezed her hand and looked directly into her eyes. “Let me come home with you.”

“Bruce.”

“I won't spend more than a couple of hours.”

She knew what her husband wanted and, frankly, she was tempted.
Very
tempted. It was too dangerous, though.
She was afraid that they'd walk into the house and Nate would be there. And she wasn't ready for that….

“I can't…. I have a roommate, don't forget.” That probably wouldn't matter to Bruce, so she decided to elaborate on the truth. Okay, she'd lie. “My roommate's having a big party tonight….”

“Oh.”

“So let me go home with you,” she said quickly.

Bruce hesitated.

“I won't stay longer than…necessary,” she said, and then because it sounded so calculating, she started to giggle.

“What's so funny?”

“Us. We're married and we can't find a place to be alone. This is ridiculous.”

“Jolene's still at the house,” Bruce said.

“Oh, right. That won't work, then.”

“It's
my
house. I don't care what my daughter thinks. You're my wife.”

“Let's not pick a fight with her now, especially if she isn't feeling well.”

Neither said anything for several seconds.

“We could always get a hotel room,” Bruce said under his breath.

“You've got to be kidding.”

He grinned sheepishly. “I'm not.”

“But…”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Rachel didn't.

Bruce rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand. “I've missed you.”

“Me, too,” she said breathlessly. “Are you sure about this?”

He grinned. “Why not? I want to be with you, and
if that means paying for a room, then so be it.” He was already halfway out of the booth.

“Bruce,” she whispered. “We don't have the bill.”

“Don't worry, Goldie will get it to us.” He peeled off a five-dollar bill, dropping it on the table for a tip, then extended his hand to Rachel.

She stood and Bruce bent to kiss the side of her neck.

Sure enough, Goldie appeared with their bill mere seconds later. “Anything wrong with the food?” she asked.

Their meals were almost untouched.

“Everything was fine,” Rachel said.

“Do you want a take-out bag?”

“No, thanks.” Bruce placed his hand on the small of Rachel's back, not hiding his eagerness to be on their way.

“You two still fighting?” Goldie demanded.

“Not anymore,” Rachel told her.

“We're about to kiss and make up,” Bruce added.

“That's what I like to hear. Good for you!”

“Yup, good for us.” Bruce grabbed Rachel's hand. They paused only long enough to pay for their meal.

By the time they were in the parking lot, Rachel felt almost giddy. Bruce backed her against the side of his car and kissed her with a hunger that assured her she'd been greatly missed.

Wrapping her arms around her husband's neck, she returned every kiss in full measure. “Bruce…”

“Hmm?”

“If we get a hotel room…”

“If?”

She ignored that. “I think you should check on Jolene first.”

“No way. Like I said, I'm not giving her any reason to bring me home earlier than I want to be.” Bruce was
far more interested in unlocking his car door while still kissing her.

“Wait,” she murmured, dragging her lips from his.

“Wait?” he asked as he straightened. “For what?”

“I drove my own car here.”

“Oh, yeah.” He stepped back—and just then, his cell phone rang. Rachel froze.

So did Bruce. He pulled out his cell and his shoulders tensed with what could only be dread.

“Go ahead and answer it,” she whispered.

Reluctantly Bruce did. “What?” he snapped. His eyes locked with Rachel's. “Sorry. Yes, of course. I'll be right home.”

This was obviously serious. “What's wrong?” she asked even before he could disconnect.

“It's Anne from next door.”

“And?”

“Jolene called her over. She's been throwing up all night. Anne said she hasn't been able to keep anything down. She's afraid there might be something really wrong. She thinks it's a good idea to take her to the E.R.”

“Then you should go,” Rachel said.

Bruce reached for her. “I'm sorry.”

“I know. I'm sorry, too.”

And she was, far more than she dared admit.

Nineteen

S
hortly after nine on Thursday morning Miranda Sullivan was getting into her car to run errands when her cell phone chirped. Digging in her purse, she retrieved it, all the while wondering who'd be calling this early. Caller ID identified Will Jefferson. He'd given her the day off and she planned on putting it to good use.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“On my way to the grocery store. I'm picking up treats for the goblins who'll be coming by tonight.”

“Oh, right, it's Halloween. Aren't you doing this a little last-minute?”

“Maybe, but if I buy candy too early I tend to eat it myself.”

“No willpower?”

Miranda frowned and refused to take the bait. He knew exactly which buttons to push with her. “Is there a reason you called?” she asked.

“Actually, speaking of last-minute, I was hoping you'd be able to work this afternoon.”

“I thought you said you didn't need me.”

“I didn't then, but I do now. My sister wants me to come with her to check something out….”

“What?” She'd counted on a free afternoon and wasn't giving it up without a good reason.

“Okay, if you must know…” He sighed. “Olivia and I have appointments at a couple of assisted-living complexes in the area.”

Miranda did sympathize but she had her own appointment at Get Nailed. “I have plans this afternoon,” she said.

“Oh.” He sounded somewhat morose. “So you can't come in for a few hours? Well, I could close the gallery, I suppose. It probably wouldn't hurt for one afternoon. Only I hate the idea of doing that….”

“Oh, all right,” Miranda said, capitulating far too easily. She could phone the salon and reschedule for later in the week.

“That's great.” He leaped at her offer without any hesitation. “Can you be here around two?”

“I'll be there.”

“Thanks, Miranda. I really appreciate it.”

“Bye.” She called the salon to cancel her appointment, then shut her cell and put it back inside her oversize purse. So much for shopping, hair and fun. She quickly revised her plans.

First things first. She ran errands, going to Safeway for the candy she needed. In addition, she bought an extra bag of miniature chocolate bars and a plastic pumpkin for the gallery. Then she picked up her dry cleaning. Shirley met her for an early lunch, and when they'd finished, she dropped off some books at the library. From there Miranda got to the art gallery with fifteen minutes to spare.

Will was with a customer when she arrived. He raised his hand briefly but otherwise didn't acknowledge her. Miranda hung her coat in the back room and stashed her purse in a safe place. Then she opened the candy, dumped the small chocolate bars in the pumpkin and set it on the counter near the cash register for customers to help themselves.

Will was at the door saying goodbye to his customer when she returned.

“What's that?” he asked, nodding toward the plastic pumpkin.

“What does it look like?”

“You brought candy in here?”

“Yes.” The answer should be obvious.

“You don't need it and neither do I. Whenever possible I avoid sweets.”

“Then don't indulge. I thought you were the one with
willpower,
” she said sarcastically. When he started to respond, she said, “It isn't for you, anyway.” Was he so self-absorbed that he assumed she'd purchased the bag for him?