Mack shared her opinion. He was beginning to make friends in Cedar Cove, and the Hardings were people he wanted to know better. “I was surprised—but definitely pleased—to get your message,” he told her truthfully.
Her smile was shy. “I’m glad. I like texting you,” she said. “It’s as if I’m talking to a good friend.”
“I feel the same way.” Generally she initiated their conversations, which was fine with him. He knew he had to let Mary Jo set the pace.
“Anyplace you’d like to go?” he asked.
“Would it be all right if we stopped at the library and visited Grace?”
“Of course.” Grace had opened her home and her heart to Mary Jo on Christmas Eve; it was only natural that she’d want to see the woman who’d been so kind. “Off to the library we go.”
The drive around the cove took about thirty minutes, and Mack used that time to draw Mary Jo out regarding her three brothers. She didn’t say much other than that they were suffocating her with their concern. Mack was properly sympathetic but careful not to seem too critical. The baby slept the entire way. According to Mary Jo, Noelle seemed to be suffering less with colic these days. The doctor had said it could last as long as three months but rarely beyond that.
When they entered Cedar Cove, Mack pulled up in front of the library and helped Mary Jo and Noelle out. Then he went in search of a parking spot in the adjacent lot. By the time he returned, he found Mary Jo at the checkout desk chatting with Grace, the head librarian. Grace smiled at him.
“I called Olivia,” she said, “and told her Mary Jo was coming in for a visit. She asked to join us.”
“Great.” He tried to sound enthusiastic, but he was slightly jealous that these ladies would have Mary Jo and Noelle to themselves when he’d been looking forward to being alone with them.
“I arranged for tea and cookies in the break room,” Grace added. “I hope you’ll stay.”
Now he was expected to be part of a tea party. If the crew at the fire station heard about this, there’d be no end to the razzing. The whole situation was just too…feminine. “Why don’t the three of you visit while I run a few errands,” he suggested.
Mary Jo’s eyes begged him to reconsider. “Please stay.”
“Well…okay. Unless I’m intruding.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Grace told him.
Mary Jo touched his arm, mutely imploring, and Mack didn’t see how he could decline. Without further protest, he joined Grace and Noelle in the back room.
As Mary Jo unbundled Noelle, Olivia Griffin arrived. She wore a knit cap over a head scarf, but it was easy to see that she was bald underneath. Still, despite the cancer, despite the treatments she was undergoing, the judge exuded vitality. He’d met her Christmas Eve, the night of the birth, and he’d always heard good things about her. His parents only had praise for Olivia, as a friend and as a judge; he could certainly understand why. This was one impressive woman.
Grace and Olivia paid plenty of attention to Noelle. The baby laughed and cooed, and Mack experienced a sense of fatherly pride he had no right to feel. Noelle gripped his finger, apparently determined not to let go.
“I asked Mack to pick me up at the Bremerton ferry this afternoon,” Mary Jo explained as Grace poured tea all around. “I had to get away for a few hours. The boys are driving me crazy.”
“Her brothers,” Mack said, leaning forward.
He left his tea and unfastened Noelle from her carrier, adeptly scooping her up as if he’d done exactly this dozens of times. While the women chatted, he walked around the room, gently stroking Noelle’s back. Her head wobbled a little; then she rested it against his shoulder and promptly fell asleep. Every once in a while, he met Mary Jo’s eyes and they smiled at each other.
“So, what’s going on with your brothers?” Grace asked, holding out a plate of oatmeal cookies.
Olivia shook her head, while Mary Jo accepted one.
She sighed. “Oh…they all seem to know what’s best for me and the baby. Before I met David, I was saving money to get a place of my own. I had quite a bit set aside. Then I found out I was pregnant. After that, with all the stuff I needed for the baby, I didn’t have any choice but to stay with my brothers.”
“You’re feeling the need to move out?”
Mary Jo nodded. “Oh, yes. They mean well and I appreciate everything they’ve done for me, but…it’s time. Noelle’s almost two months old and I need to think about getting a job again.”
“It’s too bad you can’t return to the place you worked before,” Grace said.
“Why not?” Olivia asked. “They can’t fire you for having a baby!”
“The insurance company had to downsize, and my position disappeared right after the first of the year. I got a severance package, but that won’t last forever. I have to find a way to support Noelle and me and still be a good mother.”
Although he wasn’t part of the conversation, Mack interjected his opinion. “You could always move to this side of Puget Sound.” He’d probably come across as too eager but he couldn’t contain his enthusiasm.
“You could,” Olivia agreed.
Grace nodded and brushed her hands free of cookie crumbs.
Mary Jo glanced from one to the other. “I’d like that, I really would, but as I said I’d need a job and a place to live, and it all seems impossible at the moment.”
“I saw my brother last week,” Olivia said. “And he mentioned that he’s looking for part-time help.”
Mary Jo’s eyes brightened and then just as quickly dimmed. “I’d need more hours if I was going to pay for child care and our living costs. Babies are expensive.”
Olivia seemed undaunted. “Will said the position would expand as the gallery picked up more business. Do you have accounting and office skills?”
“I do,” Mary Jo told them. “In fact, I worked in the accounting department at the insurance company.”
“Wonderful!” Olivia clapped her hands delightedly.
“But there’s day care and rent…and who’s to say your brother would find me a suitable employee?”
“I’m sure he will,” Olivia said.
“As for day care—” Grace jumped into the conversation “—my younger daughter told me just this morning that she’s looking for a means of adding to their family income. Kelly’s a stay-at-home mom with a baby of her own. Taking care of Noelle would be perfect for her.”
“And I know of a place to live,” Mack said. “A duplex that’s about to become available. The rent’s extremely reasonable.” He hadn’t consciously thought of this before, but maybe the idea had been there all along….
Everything was obviously moving much too fast for Mary Jo. “I’ll have to think about this.”
“That would be wise,” Olivia said as Grace nodded. “This is a big step.”
“But a necessary one,” Mary Jo murmured. Glancing up at Mack, who still held Noelle in his arms, she said, “And there’s someone other than me to consider now. A move will affect Noelle, too.”
“In a good way,” Mack said.
“I hope so.” Mary Jo spoke hesitantly. “I’ve made so many wrong decisions in my life that if I do move to Cedar Cove, I’ll have to work everything out beforehand. Just to be sure…”
The women talked for another ten or fifteen minutes and then Mack noticed that Olivia seemed to tire. Grace noticed it, too, and got up to carry the tea things to the staff kitchen while Mary Jo bundled up Noelle. Mack had reluctantly handed over the sleeping infant, hoping he’d have the chance to hold her again.
When they left the library, Mack drove them to his apartment. It was small, but the view of the cove was unbeatable. While he hurried about straightening up the place—he wished he’d done that earlier—Mary Jo stood in the living room, gazing thoughtfully out at the water with the navy ships gleaming in the distance.
“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on with your brothers?” he asked.
Abruptly sh
e turned to face him. “They want me to go after David,” she said.
Mack frowned. “Go after him?”
“For child support. I understand what they’re saying, and they have a point. On the surface, anyway. David has a responsibility to support Noelle. She is his child and a blood test will prove it.”
An automatic objection formed, but he managed to quell it. Biologically—and in no other way—David was Noelle’s father. The man was nothing more than a sperm donor.
“The thing is, I don’t want David in my life,” Mary Jo said emphatically, “and I certainly don’t want him to have access to Noelle.”
“Based on everything I’ve heard, I think you’re right.”
Her expression softened. “I’m so grateful you agree with me. Linc’s adamant that David pay support. I’ve told my brother that David has constant money problems, but Linc still believes he should pay. How’s he going to do that?”
“In other words, there’s no getting blood out of a turnip.”
Mary Jo glanced down. “I wouldn’t care if he had all the money in the world. I still wouldn’t want my daughter anywhere near him.”
Again Mack agreed.
“Ben Rhodes has generously set up a trust fund for Noelle, like he did for David’s other daughter. He also offered to help me financially, knowing his son either couldn’t or wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I remember. Are you sure you should turn him down?”
“Yes,” Mary Jo was quick to tell him. “I wouldn’t feel good about it.”
Mack understood—and shared—her point of view.
“I really like this town,” Mary Jo said next in a transparent effort to change the subject. “From the moment I stepped off the ferry on Christmas Eve, I felt at peace here, almost as if…as if I belonged. I suspect that when I asked to visit this afternoon, I was secretly hoping to find a way for Noelle and me to live here.”
“I’d be happy if you did.”
Their eyes held and Mack felt the tension building between them. Under other circumstances he might have kissed her but he was afraid of frightening her off.
Mack was a patient man, though. He knew what he wanted, and every minute he spent with Mary Jo and Noelle made him more aware of what that was.
Seventeen
Charlotte Rhodes worried about Ben as she poured his first coffee of the day while he retrieved the morning paper from the porch.
Ben just hadn’t been himself since returning from the cruise. Even her special homemade coconut cake didn’t interest him, and that was highly unusual.
When they’d come home from the Caribbean, she’d assumed his malady was physical. In the weeks since, she’d realized that what ailed him was emotional. Her husband was depressed.
“The Seniors’ Potluck is this afternoon,” she reminded him as she carried in his coffee. Harry, her cat, had curled up on Ben’s lap and made himself comfortable. Harry hadn’t initially accepted Ben, but once he had, the cat had become her husband’s constant companion.
“Would you mind if I skipped it this time?” Ben mumbled from behind the paper.
Charlotte started to protest, then stopped herself. “Aren’t you feeling well?” she asked, sitting on the ottoman by his chair. She rested her hand on his knee and gazed up at him, wanting so desperately to help.
Ben lowered the paper and looked at her briefly, then stared into the distance. “I’m fine,” he said with a halfhearted smile. “I’d just prefer to stay home this afternoon.”
“All right, dear, if that’s what you want.”
“I do.” He reached out his hand to squeeze hers. “Thanks for understanding.”
After lingering for a moment, Charlotte returned to the bedroom, where she dressed and got ready for her day. She’d never, ever thought Ben would purposely avoid the Seniors’ Potluck. It was the social highlight of their month, when they saw their dearest friends. Half the widows in town were in love with Ben, and Charlotte knew why. He wasn’t only handsome, charming and witty, he was a man of integrity. He’d truly blessed her life.
All their friends were bound to ask about him and she wasn’t sure what to say. Well, she’d think of something. Poor Ben. She had to assume his depression stemmed, at least in part, from his son David’s appalling behavior. She wished she knew how to help him through this, yet she felt at a loss. Offering comfort and reassurance was all she could do.
As soon as she’d finished dressing, Charlotte went back to the kitchen to prepare her contribution for that day’s potluck. As in most family homes, the kitchen was the center of activity. Not only did she do her cooking and baking there, but her best thinking took place while standing in front of the sink, washing dishes. Most serious discussions with her children had taken place here, as well.
What to bring to the potluck? Her broccoli lasagna had been a huge hit in January, and she’d received numerous requests for the recipe. In fact, these meals generally turned into a recipe exchange. Some of her favorite ones came from the potlucks, and from wakes, too. The recipe for the best casserole she’d ever tasted had come from the wake for her husband Clyde’s dearest friend, Sam. Every time she served it, she thought of him. Of both of them.
“Ben,” she said, stepping out of the kitchen as she tied her apron around her waist. “Should I bring the stuffed peppers or my chicken potpie?”
He didn’t respond right away, as if he was considering the decision. “The potpie.”
“Good. I was leaning toward that myself.”
He nodded.
“I’ll make three, so there’ll be plenty for you, and I’ll take one over to Olivia and Jack this afternoon.”
“Great idea.” He set aside the paper to pet Harry, who slept contentedly in his lap.
Charlotte returned to the kitchen and got out the flour and lard. None of those store-bought piecrusts for her! She had the time and a recipe she’d inherited from her mother, one that couldn’t be matched.
“Come and chat with me,” she called out to Ben as she kneaded the flour and lard. The dough was soft and supple; her mother had always warned her not to knead it too long, but the timing had become a matter of instinct. Charlotte sighed. Her mother, God rest her soul, had been a wonderful cook.
Some of the recipes she’d been collecting for Justine and her new restaurant were from Charlotte’s mother. Admittedly, there were a few that were a bit challenging to translate for a modern kitchen—and a cook who couldn’t spend all day preparing them!
“What’s so amusing?” Ben asked as he slid into a kitchen chair.
“Oh, I was just thinking about my mother and her recipe for dumplings.”
“Oh?”
“For years she told me it was a secret family recipe. Some secret. Flour and water were the two main ingredients.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, there are a couple of other things, but no big deal. The real secret was in cooking them for a good long while. That’s what she used to say—a good long while. I decided that was too vague and imprecise for Justine, so I left the recipe out.”
“Have you given them to her yet?”
“No, but the collection’s nearly ready.” Many of the original recipes had been lost over the years—or never written down—and Charlotte had to reconstruct them from memory. The project had helped fill the dreary winter days. With Ben so depressed lately, she’d stayed close to home.
“I feel guilty using grilled chicken from the deli in this potpie,” Charlotte confessed. She’d picked up two of them the day before, since they came in handy and never went to waste.
Ben dismissed her concern. “No one will know.”
“I will, but it’s nearly as tasty and it does save me time.”
Ben got up and poured himself a second cup of coffee. “I heard from David yesterday afternoon.”
Charlotte’s hands momentarily stilled. The call must have come while she was out getting groceries. She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t she felt compelled to
remain silent. Ben would tell her as soon as he was ready.
“He wanted another loan.”
That was hardly a shock. The only time his youngest son called was when he needed financial assistance. David was a user and had no skills when it came to money management. No ethics, either—he’d lie about anything to anyone, including that young girl who’d just had his baby. And his father.
“What did you say to him?” Charlotte asked.
“I told him no.”
“And he got angry with you.” This was a pattern. Ben had held firm to his stipulation. He refused to lend his son any more money until David paid back the loans he’d already made. Over the course of their marriage, Ben had received a few checks from David, but they’d all bounced due to insufficient funds.
Nothing had upset her husband more, however, than discovering that his son had fathered a child and then abandoned the mother—and this was after his divorce. Naturally David denied that he was responsible for Mary Jo’s pregnancy, but given his history and given the girl’s sincerity, that denial was just another lie.
“We had an argument,” Ben murmured, obviously distraught.
Charlotte dumped the pie dough on a floured board. “I have a son who’s disappointed me, too,” she said, wanting to reassure him that many parents faced such trials. She rarely referred to Will as a disappointment, but the fact that he’d been repeatedly unfaithful to his wife had distressed Charlotte deeply. Like any mother, she wanted to believe the best of her child. Sadly, she recognized that was no longer possible with the man Will had become.
Ben shook his head. “Will’s transgressions are bad enough, but they don’t come close to David’s.”
“I suppose so…” At least Will hadn’t tried to steal from her or, she was positive, anyone else. And he’d been a good brother to Olivia during her illness.
“I keep wondering what I could’ve done to set David straight when he was young,” Ben said.
“You can’t blame yourself,” Charlotte countered quickly, “any more than I can blame myself for Will’s…weaknesses.”
Ben seemed to agree with her. “Intellectually I know you’re right, but that doesn’t wipe out the regrets.”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 2 Page 75