1105 Yakima Street

Sliding off the stool, she walked around the counter and hugged her. Corrie felt small and fragile in her arms.

“Your father’s never forgiven me for not telling him about you until we were almost married. Unfortunately, it’s still a…a problem between us, even after all these years.”

“And I refuse to let history repeat itself,” Roy said. He tossed the paper aside and returned to the kitchen. “Have you told Chad about the baby?”

Gloria bristled. “No, and I don’t intend to…at least, not yet.” She felt that when she did tell him, she should know her own intentions. Adoption remained a viable option.

“Even after everything I’ve said.”

Gloria didn’t respond. She didn’t feel she had to make any decisions right that minute.

“I think you should tell our daughter what you did,” Corrie said angrily.

“Fine, I will.”

“Tell me what?” Gloria asked, looking from Roy to Corrie and back again.

“Sweetheart,” Corrie said, reaching for Gloria’s hands. “Chad knows about the baby.”

The words went through Gloria with the force of a blow torch.

Gloria jerked her hands free of her mother’s. “Who told him?” Although she asked the question, she already knew the answer.

“I did.” Roy stepped forward and confronted her face-to-face. “You can hate me if you want, but I wasn’t going to let what happened to me happen to another man, especially if that man’s the father of my grandchild.”

Gloria felt the sudden need to sit down.

“Furthermore…”

“What else is there?” She wondered what other betrayal he was about to hit her with.

“Those books you’re reading didn’t come from Mack or Mary Jo.”

“Chad?”

“Yes,” Roy admitted.

“He gave them to you?”

“He asked me to deliver them, but Mack offered and Chad decided that might be best.”

She drew in a deep breath. “In other words, he didn’t want to give them to me himself.”

“Can you blame him?” Roy asked, none too gently. “You’ve hidden this from him for months. What did you expect?”

“Does he know the doctor wants to do an ultrasound?”

“Yes, Mack mentioned it.”

So Chad knew she was pregnant. She’d wanted to tell him, felt he had a right to know—and then she’d learned he was involved with someone else. The situation was complicated enough without adding another person. She’d concluded that it was better to wait until her own plans were clear. Only when she’d made a decision about the baby would she contact him. Telling him now seemed premature.

Her father disagreed with her, and he felt strongly enough to go behind her back.

“Gloria,” Corrie whispered. “I’m so sorry. I did everything I could to talk your father out of this.”

Gloria looked at Roy, who stared belligerently back at her.

“What…what did Chad say? When you told him, I mean.” She could barely get the question out.

“At first he was surprised.”

“And later?”

“Angry.” Roy didn’t try to soften the word. “Who wouldn’t be? He has a right to know he’s going to be a father.”

“Is…is he still seeing…her?” If Gloria had known the other woman’s name she’d forgotten it. As it was, she tried not to think about Chad at all, let alone Chad with that lovely blonde.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Roy said shortly.

The phone rang and for a moment everyone ignored it. Corrie was the first to move. She reached for the receiver while Gloria and Roy looked at each other with no sense of resolution between them.

“A boy…it’s a boy!” Corrie cried.

Roy tore his gaze away from Gloria and went to Corrie’s side. He placed his hands on her shoulders while she spoke excitedly into the receiver. “Yes, yes. I’ll phone you as soon as I’ve got the flight numbers and times.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Yes, yes, give Linnette my love and tell her how thrilled Roy and I are.”

She hung up, then threw her arms around Roy. “We have a grandson,” she said in a quavering voice. “Linnette had a boy. They’ve named him Gregory Paul.”

“Gregory Paul,” Roy repeated, nodding approvingly. “That’s a nice, solid name.”

“How’s Linnette?” Gloria asked.

“Fabulous. Pete said she was a real trouper. Gregory weighed over eight pounds and is almost twenty inches long.”

“He’s a big boy,” Roy said, smiling proudly. “Corrie, we have our first grandson.” His eyes shone with pleasure and they hugged each other tightly.

“That makes me an aunt for the second time,” Gloria whispered.

“Oh, my goodness, I’ve got to get on the internet and book my flight.” Corrie raced out of the kitchen.

“I’ll call Mack and Mary Jo and tell them,” Roy said, heading off in another direction.

“I can help,” Gloria offered. She glanced around the kitchen and got to work finishing the casserole Corrie had started. She was about to place it in the freezer when Roy came back.

“Corrie’s looking through her suitcase one final time.”

“She’s arranged her flight then?”

He nodded. “Before we end here, I wanted to be sure everything’s square between you and me.”

Gloria considered the question. “It’s square.”

“Good.”

That was all he said. Then Roy was back to his paper, looking more at peace than she’d seen him in a long while.

Gloria left about an hour later. She stopped at the grocery store on her way home; as she climbed out of her car she began to cry, standing there in the darkened lot, sobbing.

Gloria wasn’t easily given to tears. If anything, she kept her emotions hidden and rarely if ever revealed them to others.

The tears were an obvious reaction to the birth of her sister’s son, and to seeing how happy and excited Corrie and Roy were. That had to be it.

Only it was much more. Instinctively Gloria recognized that this went beyond the joy she felt for her sister.

This had to do with Chad.

Eleven

Thursday evening, feeling depressed, Bruce walked into the house and found Jolene working cheerfully in the kitchen.

“I’m making tacos for dinner,” she announced. “They’re your favorite, right?”

He tossed the mail on the kitchen counter and realized she was waiting for him to comment. “Sure,” he said without enthusiasm. His mind wasn’t on dinner but on what he’d just learned. He needed time to absorb this latest news about Rachel before he could deal with his daughter’s chatter. Until recently, he’d never noticed how much attention Jolene required.

“You’re late,” she said as she shredded cheese with unnecessary vigor. “I bet you went to the salon to talk to Rachel.” She paused and then added, “Again.”

He ignored the question in her voice, but that was exactly what he’d done.

“So how is Rachel?” Jolene asked.

Bruce doubted his daughter cared. He shrugged in response. Removing his jacket, he hung it in the closet and started down the hall.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” Jolene called after him.

“Okay.”

Bruce washed his hands and by the time he returned to the kitchen, Jolene had set the table and placed the serving dishes in the center.

Bruce pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Jolene asked as if his silence had offended her. Her voice had a singsong quality that reminded him of when she was much younger.

“About what?”

“Dinner! I worked really hard on this and the least you could do is tell me I did a good job.”

Bruce looked at the table; it was obvious that she’d put some effort into this meal. “It’s very nice, Jolene. Thank you.”

Apparently pacified, she pulled out her own chair and sat down. Reaching for the platter of crisp taco shells, she took one and then passed it to him. “I had a good day at school.”

He smiled.

“How was work?”

“Okay.”

“Lindsey and I are going to a movie on Friday night. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“Can you pick us up when it’s over?”

He certainly didn’t have any plans for the evening. Not without Rachel. “Okay.”

“Great,” she said, all sunny and happy. “I’ll let Lindsey know. You met her mom, remember?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Jolene argued. “She was at the school picnic last year when—” She paused. “Maybe you didn’t,” she muttered, and paid an inordinate amount of attention to the taco she was busily assembling.

“Rachel went to the school picnic,” Bruce told her. He recalled how upset his wife had been afterward. Rachel hadn’t said much at the time, but Bruce could tell how miserable she’d felt. Jolene had acted in a rude and insulting manner, and while Rachel had downplayed his daughter’s behavior, she’d asked not to attend any more school functions without him. Bruce had agreed.

Every day, it seemed, he was reminded of how badly he’d failed both his wife and his daughter. The situation would never have gotten to this point if he’d realized how bad things were for Rachel and had stepped in earlier.

Father and daughter ate in silence. Bruce made an effort to eat, although he had no appetite. He did manage to force down one taco, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy his daughter.

“Have another, Dad,” she insisted, handing him the platter of taco shells.

“No, thanks, sweetie,” he said, pushing his plate aside. The lettuce had fallen out and spilled salsa ran across the white plate.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jolene snapped. “I made your favorite dinner and I tried to have a conversation with you, but you’re ignoring me and it isn’t fair.” Her voice shook slightly and her lower lip protruded.

Bruce rubbed his face with one hand. Now he had both Rachel and Jolene upset with him. It seemed nothing he did was right anymore. If only he knew how to set everything straight… .

“I’m sorry, Jolene,” he whispered. “I’m pretty depressed at the moment. I went to see Rachel and—”

Jolene leaped on the news, not allowing him to finish. “She’s being a witch, isn’t she? I bet she wouldn’t even talk to you.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Jane got mad at her the last time you were there, remember?”

What Bruce remembered was the scene Jolene had caused and how it had brought Jane out of the salon to chastise them all. Afterward he’d been asked not to return. He’d honestly tried to abide by the owner’s wishes, but he needed to talk to Rachel, to see her.

“Rachel no longer works at the salon,” Bruce said.