311 Pelican Court (Cedar Cove #3)

Men or the lack thereof was a frequent topic between them. Rachel liked to say that her chances of meeting eligible men in a hair-and-nail shop were equivalent to losing weight on a diet of hot fudge sundaes. She’d done the bar scene, hung around at all the “guy” places. A year ago, she’d even enrolled in a mechanics class at the community college. Not a single date had come as a result of all that effort, and Rachel was discouraged.

“Anytime you want to borrow Katie for a fix, let me know,” Maryellen told her.

“I just might.” Rachel dumped the used cotton balls in the garbage and picked up her file. “Enough about my pathetic love life, let’s talk about you and Jon.”

As if there was anything to talk about. “Unfortunately, it all seems pretty hopeless.”

“Why?”

There was no easy way to answer that question. She hadn’t intended to tell Rachel what she suspected, but the words were out before she could stop them. “I think he’s involved with someone else.”

Rachel looked up and held Maryellen’s gaze. “I don’t believe it.”

Maryellen mumbled a response, her head lowered. This was humiliating enough without inviting the entire shop to listen in.

“What?” Rachel asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

Embarrassed, Maryellen said, “I practically threw myself at him not once, but twice—and Jon turned me down both times.” She spoke in a hoarse whisper. The morning they’d awakened next to each other and he’d moved away from her had been a low point for Maryellen.

“That’s what I mean,” Rachel whispered back heatedly. “If Jon didn’t love you, he’d have taken what you offered, and just enjoyed himself. Then he would’ve left without a backward glance. But, you’ll notice, Jon didn’t do that. He exhibited self-control.”

“But why?” Maryellen demanded. If Jon truly loved her, she’d know it; she’d feel it. If he did care for her, she wouldn’t have felt so utterly devastated when he walked away.

“That I can’t answer,” Rachel murmured as she continued to file Maryellen’s nails.

“Maybe he’s seeing one of the women he works with,” Maryellen said, and her heart grew heavy at the thought. The Lighthouse employed lots of single women who worked as waitresses. There were others in the kitchen. And his photographs were gaining more and more attention. Maryellen had been around the artists’ community long enough to know how attractive women found creative men.

“There’s no one else,” Rachel said, with such conviction that several heads turned in their direction.

“How can you be so sure?”

Rachel concentrated on her filing. “I wish I could give you definite proof. I can’t, but I’m convinced he loves you.”

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Maryellen desperately wanted to believe that, too.

“You know,” Rachel said suddenly. “Here’s a thought. You could always ask him if there’s someone else.”

Maryellen immediately shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Well…because…” Maryellen couldn’t think of a reason quickly and found herself stuttering. “It’s out of the question,” she said with finality.

Rachel paused again. “You don’t want to know, do you?”

Maryellen gaped at her.

“You’re afraid of the truth,” Rachel insisted.

Maryellen started to defend herself and then admitted Rachel was right—she was afraid.

“What’s the worst thing that can happen?” Rachel said next. “My mother used to ask me that whenever I had a problem. It always got me thinking, you know?”

Maryellen realized she needed to do some thinking, too. This situation with Jon was making her miserable, and there was no solution in sight.

“You love him, Maryellen.”

“I know.”

“I don’t understand why two people who so obviously care for each other have such a hard time finding happiness.” Rachel released a long slow sigh. “I have to tell you, this is not encouraging to someone like me.”

“You’ll find a husband,” Maryellen said. Surely a woman as lovely, practical and just plain nice as Rachel would succeed in meeting a man.

“Sure I will,” Rachel agreed, “but I’d prefer he didn’t come with a police record or an addiction to drugs or booze.”

“There’s your problem, Rach,” Maryellen teased. “You’re just too darn picky.”

Peggy had seen changes in Bob over the last year, but the most dramatic ones had come after Sheriff Davis’s last visit. Her husband didn’t sleep well and was often up roaming the house at all hours of the night. He’d lost interest in his wood shop, too. He used to spend much of the day there, working on a variety of projects, but now many of them were left uncompleted. Lately nothing interested him.

For the last few weeks, he’d attended his AA meetings on a daily basis: twenty-one meetings in twenty-one days. He hadn’t been to that many in such quick succession since he’d first gotten involved with Alcoholics Anonymous. Bob refused to talk about his feelings and snapped at her when she pried. For now, she decided, it was best to leave him alone. They’d meet Hannah Russell later today; maybe then they’d find the answers they sought.

After spending a sleepless night herself, Peggy called Corrie McAfee. They met at least once a week, to shop, exchange recipes and talk about gardening. She was the one person Peggy could speak to about this upcoming meeting.

“It’s Peggy,” she said when her friend picked up the receiver.

“Hi,” the other woman said cheerfully. “How are you?”

“Can I ask a favor?” Peggy’s stomach was in knots, and emotionally she wasn’t in much better shape than Bob.

“Of course!”

“Would it be possible for you and Roy to be here this afternoon? We promised Sheriff Davis we’d see this girl, but now I’m not so sure we should.”

“Let me talk to Roy,” Corrie said, and put her on hold for a moment.

Peggy gnawed on her lower lip, leaning against the kitchen wall as she waited for Corrie. The meeting with Hannah would be hard on everyone. Peggy didn’t know what they could tell Max Russell’s daughter; she, too, was looking for answers and unfortunately they had none to give her.

Corrie was back. “Roy’s clearing his schedule now. We’ll be there.”

Peggy mentioned the appointment time, then added. “I…I didn’t discuss this with Bob, but I’ll tell him you’re coming before you and Roy get here.” She felt it was only fair to let her friend know this.

“That’s fine,” Corrie assured her. “Don’t worry, Peg, everything’s going to be fine.”

Peggy wished she could believe that.

All afternoon, Peggy and Bob were tense and on edge with each other. He did agree to having the McAfees at the meeting, though, which was a relief to Peggy, who wanted them for emotional support.

By three o’clock when the doorbell rang, Peggy was an emotional wreck and Bob wasn’t any better. Although she’d been a hostess for many years, she fussed about the kitchen with coffee cups and cookies and plates as though she’d never entertained before.

Roy and Corrie arrived first. Bob shook hands with Roy and then led the couple into the living room. Corrie and Roy sat on one of the two sofas, leaving the two wing chairs by the fireplace vacant.

Bob waited until they were seated before he said, “Peggy told me she’d asked you to join us. Frankly I appreciate the fact that you’re here.”

“I’m glad to do it,” Roy assured him.

The doorbell chimed again, and Peggy’s heart instantly flew into her throat. Bob’s eyes met hers and he, too, seemed momentarily paralyzed. He recovered quickly. With a determined stride he went to answer the door.

The young woman who stepped into the foyer was very tall and thin, and Peggy had a whimsical image of her as one of the great blue herons who stalked the pebble beach of the cove. Sheriff Davis entered the house behind their guest.

The woman, who appeared to be close in age to her own children, wore a full-length, tan raincoat with navy-blue pants and a sweater. Her dark hair was tied with a scarf at the base of her neck.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hannah,” Bob said as he took her coat. “I wish it was under more pleasant circumstances.”

“So do I.” She glanced nervously into the room.

Roy stood for the introduction, which Peggy thought was a nice touch. He then shook hands with Sheriff Davis. If the sheriff had any questions about the McAfees’ presence, he didn’t voice them.

Once everyone was settled—Sheriff Davis and Hannah in the chairs by the fireplace—Peggy suggested they talk first and save the coffee and cookies for later.

“I think that would be best,” Hannah said. Her voice was soft and modulated as she leaned forward and folded her hands on her knees, almost as if she were a schoolgirl. She did look young, and so vulnerable. Peggy resisted the urge to give her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“I hope we can answer your questions,” Bob began.

“I hope you can, too.” Hannah inhaled loudly, obviously gathering strength.

“Earlier today I was in to see Sheriff Davis,” Hannah said, nodding at him. “He gave me my dad’s ashes. I’ll take them back to California and place them in the mausoleum next to my mother.”

Peggy could only imagine how difficult this must be for someone so young. “I hope now that your father’s been found, you have some closure,” she said. The words sounded hollow and trite to her own ears.

“I don’t know if closure is possible until I discover why Dad came to Cedar Cove in the first place,” Hannah responded. “As I was telling Sheriff Davis, we don’t know anyone in Washington state. As far as I’m aware, Dad’s never been to this area before…and he was acting so mysterious when he left. He didn’t want me to find out where he was going—that was pretty clear. I wouldn’t even have known he was leaving if I hadn’t stopped in to see him that day. Can you tell me anything?” she pleaded.

“I wish I could,” Bob answered, “but Peggy and I are as much at a loss as you.”

Peggy murmured agreement.

“I suppose you want to know whatever I can tell you about that night,” Bob said, leaning forward.

“Please. Anything would be helpful.”

Bob proceeded to fill in the details, describing everything he and Peggy had discussed dozens of times, together and with the police.

“Sheriff Davis said sometimes it’s the minutest detail that leads to an answer,” Peggy added.

There was a brief silence after this remark.

“Would you mind answering a few questions I have?” Roy asked Hannah.

“I will if I can.”

Sheriff Davis frowned, but he didn’t intrude.

“I understand your father was injured in a car accident that also killed your mother?”