Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 (99 page)

“I have that meeting at ten,” Cliff reminded her.

“I know.” She wasn't happy about it, but she had little cause for complaint, since Cliff had been so accommodating toward the puppy.

“He'll sleep all morning.”

“We can only hope.” She worried about what would happen if the puppy got away from her at the library. If he got lost…

“He's a good-natured little guy.”

“Maybe someone will steal him,” she joked. Well…sort of joked.

“Grace!”

His disapproval annoyed her. “If you're up, you might as well feed him.”

“I'd rather watch you.”

Grace frowned. “You don't seriously want this dog, do you?” She didn't give him a chance to respond. “Puppies are a nuisance.” The fact that Cliff had disregarded her wishes concerning this dog didn't sit well with her. It hadn't taken him more than a day to fall under Beau's spell.

“If anyone had asked me,” Cliff said, “I would've agreed with you. We don't need a puppy.”

“Thank goodness,” she murmured.

“Then Beau arrived on our doorstep…”

“He was foisted on me by a woman with a conniving mind,” Grace said irritably.

“He's a good puppy.”

“He's a nuisance.”

“To you, maybe, but he's grown on me.”

“Cliff,” she wailed. “I can't believe you're saying this. Do you think it was any accident that Beth placed this puppy with us? You're falling right in with her schemes.”

“Is that so bad? All Beth wants is a good home for these puppies.”

“But I don't
want
a puppy,” Grace said, glaring across the room at her husband. “Or any other dog for that matter. Buttercup is gone, and that's the end of any pets for us. Agreed?” she asked pointedly.

Maybe Cliff thought he could convince her to change her mind; in that case, she wanted it understood
right now
that wasn't going to happen.

“Whatever you say, Grace. This is totally up to you.”

“Good, because my decision's already made.” She heard a sucking noise and realized the bottle was empty. Gently she withdrew the nipple from Beau's mouth.

“It wouldn't hurt you to give him a bit of affection.”

Grace ran her index finger down the puppy's back. He was so small and skinny she could feel the ridges of his
spine. Poor thing really was undernourished. To Cliff's credit, Beau looked healthier than when he'd first arrived, but that wasn't saying much.

Beau's deep brown eyes seemed to plead with her. Well, if he was hoping to steal her heart, he could look elsewhere.

“Should I give him a second bottle?” she asked.

“No. It's not good to feed him too much at once. Better to let him eat smaller meals but more often.”

That made sense.

“I don't need to burp him, do I? Like a baby?”

“No. He'll be asleep in a few minutes.”

Sure enough, Beau settled contentedly onto her lap and quickly went back to sleep. Grace wished it was as easy for her. When she returned Beau to his box and got into bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Cliff, on the other hand, obviously had no problem. Within minutes—no,
seconds,
she thought enviously—he was deep in dreamland.

Lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, Grace recalled the day Charlotte Rhodes had brought Buttercup to the house. Except that Charlotte had been Charlotte Jefferson then.

That was such a dark time in Grace's life. Dan had gone missing and, to all appearances, seemed to have run off with another woman. She remembered the day someone had reported seeing him in town, driving a pickup truck. Later, her husband had been spotted just down the street from the library. Grace had run out, coatless, chasing after him in such a frantic hurry that she'd stumbled, fallen and skinned her knee.

It wasn't Dan that day. It couldn't have been. Almost a year passed before she learned that her husband wasn't with another woman. He'd killed himself, unable to let
go of a crime he'd committed as a young man serving in Vietnam.

For years after the war he'd periodically sink into black moods, during which he'd lash out at those around him, at those who loved him. Any effort to question or comfort him was met with fierce, uncontrollable anger. After a while, Grace stopped trying. His mood would reverse itself after a few days or weeks and it would be as if nothing had happened. For their entire married life, she'd loved a man who had what was essentially a split personality.

Grace must have fallen asleep because the alarm startled her awake. Her eyes flew open and she sat up and switched it off. Cliff rolled over, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. Leaning down, she kissed his ear. “I'll start the coffee,” she said.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

She climbed out of bed and grabbed her housecoat. Shrugging into it as she walked to the kitchen, Grace paused at the cardboard box to discover Beau tightly curled up in the receiving blanket Cliff had found for him. “I see the alarm didn't bother
you
any,” she whispered.

She waited until there was enough coffee in the pot to fill two mugs, then carried them into the bedroom. Cliff was up and in the shower.

Drinking her coffee as she dressed, she slipped into a long-sleeved polo shirt and a jumper. She wore something similar most days; it was almost a uniform. Cliff took his coffee from the dresser as he strolled out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. The radio was reporting on weather and traffic in the Seattle area. Half listening, she plugged in her curling iron and applied moisturizer to her face.

When Grace had finished putting on makeup and fixing her hair, she saw that Cliff had removed Beau from his box. The puppy had made his way over to one of her fluffy slippers, snuggled inside and gone right back to sleep.

“You have to admit that's cute,” Cliff said, coming to stand behind her.

“No, I do not. I don't want that dog in my shoe.”

“Come on, Grace. Hallmark would print a card with a picture like that. Or…how about if I put him on YouTube? He'd be a star. Just look at him.”

“You can look all you want but I have to get to work.”

Cliff shook his head and bent to take Beau from her slipper.

Grace hated to be so coldhearted but she couldn't lower her guard, not even a little. The instant she did, Beau would wriggle his way into her affections, which was exactly what Cliff and Beth hoped would happen. Grace was determined it wouldn't.

Half an hour later, after a second cup of coffee and a toasted English muffin, Grace drove to the library with Beau in the box beside her. She had several small bottles of formula, which she'd have to feed him during the day.

Cliff said that if the meetings ended early, he'd come and pick up Beau, but he wasn't making any promises. She figured she'd be stuck with the puppy all day.

Naturally Beau had everyone on the library staff wrapped around his tiny paw the moment she carried him into the building.

“Anyone want to feed him?” she asked. If she could arrange for someone else to do it, all the better.

Every single employee volunteered. She let them work out a schedule as she retreated to her office and assumed her tasks for the day. Writing the email newsletter that went
out to patrons every Monday morning was at the top of her list.

Beth phoned shortly after the library opened. “How's it going?” she asked.

“It's going. Cliff named him Beau.”

“I heard.”

So Beth had been in contact with Cliff. If Grace was a paranoid kind of person, she'd wonder if those two were teaming up against her. More than likely Beth had phoned the house and Cliff had answered, then simply forgotten to mention the call.

“Have you weighed Beau lately?”

“Not me. Cliff did, though.”

“Do you remember his weight?”

“Sorry, no.”

Beth asked a few additional questions, but Grace was no more helpful with those than she'd been with the first one. Cliff had taken on nearly all Beau-related duties and that was how Grace intended to keep it.

Once she was off the phone, she went to check with the children's librarian regarding story hour that Friday afternoon. She needed the information for her newsletter.

As she walked toward the children's section, she noticed several people smiling in her direction. She didn't think anything of it until she looked back. Beau was trotting after her as if he were her shadow.

Grace stopped and so did Beau. He sat on his haunches and stared up at her, his tail wagging. Ignoring him, she moved forward purposely. Beau ran after her, his small legs hardly able to keep up.

Finally she couldn't stand it a minute longer. Crouching down, she picked him up and cradled him in her arms. He licked her hand, then reached for her face.

She raised her chin out of his range. “I am not going
to love you, no matter what you do,” she insisted. “Don't even try, okay?”

Beau whimpered as if to disagree.

“We're going to find you a good home,” she said, stroking his soft fur. “A family with lots of children for you to play with. That's what you need—a family with children. You don't want to live with Cliff and me. We won't feel like playing chase or throwing a Frisbee or doing any of the other things you'd love. It's for your own good. Do you understand?”

Apparently Beau didn't, because he licked her hand again.

Twenty-One

T
eri Polgar was enjoying her first peaceful moment of the day. She sat in the most comfortable chair in the family room, rested her feet on the matching ottoman, leaned back and closed her eyes.

The triplets were all asleep and, after the morning she'd had, Teri was ready for a nap herself. Friends and family claimed that if anyone could handle a multiple birth, she could. It was a nice compliment, and she took it as such, although she was beginning to doubt the high opinion they had of her abilities.

Bobby and James were off for the next few days meeting with the video game people in L.A. Bobby was a huge help with their sons, and of course Gabrielle, their nanny, was, too. Still, the major part of the triplets' care fell to her. Other than quick trips to buy groceries, Teri couldn't even remember when she'd last ventured out of the house. As for “girl time”—it'd been practically nonexistent. Her hair needed to be cut and her fingernails were a mess.

She missed Rachel, although they'd talked a few days ago—for the first time in ages. Rachel had described her situation—her housemate and the temporary posi
tion she'd taken with the shipyard. That girl must like living on the edge because she was definitely
not
in her right mind to be living with Nate Olsen. Teri could only imagine what Bruce would say once he found out. Well, she wasn't going to be the one to tell him.

Bruce Peyton. Teri felt like slapping him silly.

Honestly—letting a thirteen-year-old dictate his life. How crazy was that? Teri knew what poor Rachel had endured in the months that led up to her moving out. She certainly didn't blame her. In Teri's opinion, Rachel deserved a medal for putting up with that spoiled brat.

Then, last week, just when things seemed promising—because Bruce was seeing a counselor and Jolene appeared to be softening—everything had blown up in Rachel's face. Jolene had gotten sick and Bruce had to hurry home. But Bruce soon discovered that this so-called illness had been self-inflicted. He found an empty bottle of ipecac in the garbage and confronted his daughter. He'd emailed Rachel, and Rachel had subsequently told Teri. This marriage wasn't looking good. Not good at all.

The doorbell chimed and Teri bounded to her feet with more energy than she'd realized she had. If whoever it was woke any of the triplets…

Bruce stood on the porch.

“Bruce?” She was too surprised to say any more. Then she added, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you about Rachel.”

Teri shook her head, unwilling to let him in. This was Rachel's worst fear, that Bruce would ask Teri for information. “I don't think I should,” she said bluntly. She'd vowed she wouldn't supply Bruce with any of the details Rachel had so recently and reluctantly shared. Not until Rachel had the chance to tell him herself, which she'd
fully intended to do until she'd heard about this latest trick of Jolene's.

“I have something I want you to give Rachel,” he pleaded, still on the porch.

His sad eyes did her in. Teri had always been a sucker for sad eyes. She'd learned more quickly than her sister had, however. Christie's heart had been broken more times than a carton of eggs, usually over some down-on-his-luck loser. Christie did eventually learn; it just took her longer.

“All right, you can come in,” she said, not very graciously. Stepping aside, she gestured into the house, then led him into the family room. It was far enough away that they wouldn't disturb the triplets, but at the same time she could hear them if they cried. That was especially important, since Gabrielle had the night off.

She motioned toward the sofa, which Bruce sank into.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, not bothering with small talk.

“I need help,” Bruce admitted.

“I'll say you do.” However, Bruce needed more help than she could give him. She hoped he was continuing to see the counselor.

He sighed. “I really blew it with Rachel, didn't I?”

No point in answering
that
. Bruce already knew he was in trouble with his wife.

“Did you hear what happened last Saturday?” he asked.

“I did.”

He exhaled slowly. “I was beginning to think Rachel might be willing to move back home. Then the three of us could all go to the counselor together. We need to work on being a family, and Rachel living somewhere else complicates everything.”