Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
mug and ambled across the hall for a refill. Roy noticed a haggard, weary look on his face.
“Problems?” he asked.
Troy didn’t answer right away. “Remember Martha Evans who died a couple months back?”
“The widow? Didn’t Pastor Flemming find the body?”
“That’s her. The family claims that several expensive pieces of her jewelry are missing.”
Roy was taken aback. “You don’t think Dave—”
“Of course not.” Troy shook his head. “But you didn’t come here to listen to my woes. What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
Roy decided not to pursue the subject of the missing jewelry. “I’m doing legwork on a case. Gotta check some old police reports. Corrie asked me to stop in and invite you to dinner Friday night.”
Troy’s gaze instantly left his. “Sorry, I’m busy Friday. I’ve got another engagement. Thank Corrie for me, though.”
“Sure. Would Saturday be better?”
Troy still didn’t look at him. “I’m busy Saturday too.”
Roy found this astonishing. “You seem to have an active social calendar all of a sudden.” Not that it was any of his business, but Troy always used to be eager for a dinner invitation, especially after he’d moved Sandy to the nursing facility. Roy couldn’t remember the sheriff ever turning him down, especially for a meal.
“I’m.” Troy seemed more than a little flustered. “I’ve reconnected with an old friend.”
“Male or female?” Judging by Troy’s discomfort, he guessed it was a woman, but he couldn’t resist asking.
“Female,” Troy muttered, lifting the coffee mug to his lips so that his answer was muffled.
Roy peered across the desk at him. “Are your ears getting red or am I imagining things?”
Troy scowled back. “You’re imagining things.”
Roy had to make an effort to suppress his smile. He, too, took a sip of coffee to hide his amusement. “This so-called friend got a name?” he asked next.
“You don’t know her.”
“That’s a long tricky name.”
Troy snickered. “Very funny.”
“Is that her surname?”
“No.” Troy sighed. “Enough of this nonsense. If you must know, her name is Faith.”
Roy nodded in an encouraging manner. “And?”
“I haven’t told Megan about her yet, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention any of this to my daughter.”
This was even more surprising than the news that Troy was seeing another woman so soon after Sandy’s death. When he’d asked Roy to be one of the pallbearers, the sheriff was badly shaken by the loss of his wife, despite her long illness.
“I’m seeing Faith on Friday, then having dinner with Megan and Craig on Saturday,” Troy said.
“I heard about Megan’s miscarriage,” Roy said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Troy settled both hands around his mug. “Sandy lost two pregnancies, and both times she fell into depression.”
“How’s Megan doing?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. She put a lot of significance in the fact that she probably conceived the baby either right before Sandy’s death or right after.”
Roy nodded thoughtfully. Without meaning to, the poor girl was probably making a painful situation even harder on herself.
“Two big losses like that, one right after the other—it’s pretty tough,” Troy continued. “Which is why I haven’t told her about Faith.”
Roy leaned back in his chair. “She isn’t going to hear about it from me, so don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Troy murmured.
The sheriff’s phone rang and Roy stood to go. As he left, he heard the other man’s voice take on a gentle, soothing quality. “It’s okay, honey,” he was saying. “We’ll just …”
Roy moved down the hall, out of earshot. The sheriff was talking to his daughter.
Twenty-Three
Grace and Cliff’s wedding reception would be Saturday, October 13, which still gave them three weeks to finish getting everything organized. That weekend, thank goodness, worked for almost everyone; their families and close friends would all be available. Grace was particularly excited about seeing Cliff’s daughter, Lisa, and her family, who were flying in from the east coast.
Sitting at the kitchen table on Saturday morning, she went over her extensive to-do list. Decorations, catering, her outfit and hair appointment, wedding cake. A lot of details to keep track of. All the work, all the time spent organizing and making phone calls, would be worth it, though. This would be a celebration of Cliff’s and her commitment, their love.
Cliff had gone into Cedar Cove to do some errands, and the house was quiet. She glanced around; everything was orderly and comfortable. Recently Grace had begun to make a few changes. Nothing drastic, though. Cliff had lived here on his own for twelve years, and the place had a distinctively masculine feel, so she’d added a few feminine flourishes, beginning with decorative pillows on the bed. This was followed by a row of family photographs, hers and his, on the dresser. Cliff immediately approved of the pictures, but the pillows were there for two weeks before he even noticed.
“Where did those come from?” he’d asked one night as they got ready for bed.
“I put them there,” she told him. “They look attractive, don’t they?”
He’d thought about it for a moment and agreed, then once again assured Grace she could change whatever she wanted in the house. Still, she was trying not to overwhelm him with too many alterations and additions at once. Slowly, she went about making a few changes. A couple of oil paintings, both western landscapes she’d bought at the gallery years before, had gone up next. When she pointed them out, Cliff had nodded, obviously pleased with her choices.
Jon and Maryellen had given them a print of one of Jon’s best-selling photographs as a wedding gift. It showed snow-covered Mt. Rainier against the backdrop of Puget Sound with a pink-and-lavender sunset. With Cliff’s help, she’d hung that over the fireplace. He’d admired it, too, full of praise for her son-in-law’s talent.
She’d just started checking the RSVPs against the list of invited guests when the back door opened and Cliff walked in.
“Hello, sweetheart. Would you like some lunch?” she asked, getting up from the table.
“I’m not hungry.” Without looking at her, he walked directly to the cupboard for a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.
It was past one, and Grace had postponed her own lunch, waiting for him, assuming they’d eat together. “Did you have lunch in town?”
“No.” He kept his back to her.
Grace set her pen aside. All the warm feelings she’d experienced a few minutes earlier left her. “Are you ignoring me?” she half joked, wondering at his mood.
Finally he turned to face her. His eyes held none of the tenderness she was accustomed to seeing, and her stomach tensed. She knew what had happened.
“How long has Will Jefferson been in town?” her husband asked coldly.
“I … I don’t know.” This was true, in a fashion. She was certainly aware that Will had returned to Cedar Cove, but not exactly when he’d arrived. “Did you see him?” she asked, striving to sound