204 Rosewood Lane (13 page)

“Well…soon.”

“How soon?” he asked.

She took a moment to mull over the question. “I was hoping very soon, say in nine or ten months. If you agree.” She let her smooth, silky leg stroke his.

“You once told me you didn't want children.”

“I changed my mind. How do you feel about a child—or two?”

“I'd be thrilled, but only if you're sure.”

“I'm sure.”

Seth kissed her neck and let his lips travel over her collarbone and then lower. Justine arched her back and moaned softly as he gently sucked her nipple.

Seth moved from one breast to the other, pausing in between. “One question.”

“Anything,” she whispered, panting and eager for him to make love to her again.

“Do twins run in your family?”

Justine laughed. “Every generation.”

Seth gave an exaggerated groan. “I was afraid of that.”

“If we happen to have a boy…” she murmured as he continued to explore her body. She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and sighed at the exquisite sensations she experienced.

“Hmm…”

“I'd like to name him after my brother.”

Seth raised his head so that their eyes met in the moonlit room. “So would I.”

“I think Jordan would be honored to have our son carry his name.”

Seth's eyes seemed to glisten. “I think we should start on this baby project now, don't you?”

A moment later, he moved over her, and Justine opened her body and her heart to receive his love. Her life could never return to the way it was before that summer afternoon sixteen years ago. Yet for the first time since that day, she felt truly free to create a new happiness. Hers and Seth's.

N
ow that Justine and Seth's wedding reception was over, Olivia could concentrate on Thanksgiving. Sitting in chambers after a day spent working out legal solutions in family court, she flipped the pages of her calendar and was dismayed to see that the holiday was almost upon her. Where had the days gone? She could barely remember when she'd last seen Jack. Was that her fault or— No, he was the one avoiding her, she decided. Olivia shook her head; she didn't want to dwell on her on-again, off-again relationship with Jack Griffin.

There was a polite knock on the door. A tap Olivia instantly recognized as her mother's. Charlotte enjoyed sitting in Olivia's courtroom from time to time. She claimed she got her best knitting done while listening to Olivia's cases. Only rarely did she visit Olivia while she was in chambers, and then it was usually because she had a strong opinion on one of her daughter's cases. Charlotte usually managed to convey her views in a direct and unequivocal manner.

“Come in, Mom,” Olivia called.

“How'd you know it was me?” Charlotte asked, stepping into the room. She carried her knitting bag, which was twice as large as her not insignificant purse. Her mother gazed approvingly at the dark mahogany bookcases, which lined three walls.

Olivia swallowed a smile. “What's on your mind, Mom?”

Charlotte set her knitting bag on the green leather sofa and sank into its thick cushions. “Do you realize it's almost Thanksgiving?”

“Just now. I swear I don't know what happened to this month.”

“I was just thinking we should invite Jack over this year. How do you feel about that?”

Actually, Olivia felt fine about it. Regardless of who'd been avoiding whom, an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner might go a long way toward healing the breach. “That's a marvelous idea.”

Her mother glowed with pleasure.

“His son is still living with him, so we'll want to include Eric, too,” Olivia reminded her.

“Of course,” Charlotte readily agreed.

“What about Cliff Harding? Will he be alone?”

Charlotte picked up her knitting bag and rested it on her knees. “I talked to him just the other day, and he's flying to the East Coast to join his daughter and her family.”

“How nice.” Olivia was fond of Cliff, and she especially liked the patient way he dealt with Charlotte—and with Grace, too. She was pleased that he'd accepted the invitation to attend Justine and Seth's wedding reception. His presence had obviously made the event that much more pleasurable for Grace, especially since he'd spent most of the afternoon at her side. Grace seemed more like her old self when Cliff was
around. It was touching to see her respond to a man's attention. When Dan disappeared, Grace had assumed she must be lacking in some way. For months, she'd blamed herself, although Olivia was certain the blame couldn't be hers.

“I'll do the pies,” Charlotte said. “Mincemeat, apple, pumpkin and pear. I do love a good pear pie.”

“What about the dinner rolls?” Olivia asked hopefully. Her mother's homemade rolls were a treat not to be forgotten.

“Of course. That's understood.”

They completed the menu—who'd be bringing what. Olivia was responsible for the turkey, dressing and all the trimmings. Olivia would ask Justine to provide the fruit salad and whatever else she wanted to contribute. Jack and Eric would be their guests.

As soon as her mother left, Olivia reached for the phone and punched in Jack's number at the newspaper office. She was connected to his line right away.

“Griffin,” he barked, sounding preoccupied.

“Lockhart,” Olivia returned.

“Olivia.” His voice softened. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. What are you doing?”

“Tell me what you're wearing first.” That teasing quality was back in his voice.

“Jack! I'm at the courthouse.”

“Okay, what do you have on under your robe?”

“Would you stop?”

He sighed as if restraint demanded a lot of effort. “What's up? Miss me, do you?”

“I called to invite you and Eric to Thanksgiving dinner with Mom, Justine, Seth and me.”

“You are? I mean, sure. Great. We'd love it.”

“You didn't have any other plans?”

“Nope,” Jack told her. “Well, I was going to get a frozen turkey-in-a-box out of the freezer department and bake that. This'll be something to look forward to. It'd be perfect if only…” He hesitated.

“If what?” she asked.

“Would you mind inviting one other person?”

“Who?”

“There's this other woman I've been dating for the last few weeks who's lonely and—”

“Jack!”

“You don't believe me?”

“Not for a moment.” Olivia was having a hard time not laughing out loud. She'd been worried about their relationship, but everything seemed back to normal.

“I'm serious about inviting someone else,” he said, and the teasing left his voice. “Would you mind terribly if I asked Shelly Larson to join us?”

“Eric's girlfriend? The one he thinks is pregnant with someone else's baby?” Olivia frowned.

“I'm desperate for those two to reconcile,” Jack told her. “My son is miserable without her. He loves Shelly, and I think if they were to meet on neutral ground they just might be able to patch things up. Yes, it'll take some adjusting on Eric's part, but he's willing if Shelly is, too.”

Olivia didn't want to get caught in the middle of this conflict, but she realized that Jack was at his wits' end. Eric and Shelly were obviously at an impasse—and Eric showed no sign of moving out of Jack's house.

“Would you do that, Olivia?” Jack pleaded. “For the sake of my sanity.”

And their relationship, Olivia added silently. “On one condition,” she said. “I don't think it's a good idea to spring this
on Eric, or on Shelly, for that matter. You have to tell Eric I'm inviting her.”

“Done,” he promised. “But will you talk to Shelly for me? Please? I don't want to sound like I'm meddling.”

“But you are,” Olivia pointed out.

“Yes, but I don't see any other alternative. They can't seem to resolve this on their own.”

“All right, give me her phone number,” she said with a sigh. She wrote it down and then made little squiggly lines around the numbers while they continued to talk.

“You doing anything exciting tonight?” Jack asked, and his voice dipped to a sexy growl.

“I don't know. What have you got in mind?”

“The Chamber of Commerce is having an open house. Wanna go?” Jack's suggestive tone implied a night of passionate lovemaking, not a rather dull business event.

“I just might be able to fit it into my busy social calendar.”

“Can I pick you up at seven?”

“Seven's good.”

“Wear something sexy.”

“For the Chamber of Commerce?”

“No, Olivia,” he said blandly, “for me.”

The smile lasted a long time after the conversation had ended.

As soon as Olivia got home, she called Shelly Larson. After a lengthy explanation of who she was and why she'd phoned, she waited for a response to her invitation.

“Does Eric know about this?” Shelly asked.

Her voice was soft and well-modulated. Olivia tried to match it to the photograph Eric had once shown her. As she recalled, Shelly was a petite brunette who worked for a Seattle-based advertising agency. She'd been living with Eric for almost two years.

“Jack suggested I invite you,” Olivia said. “I agreed on the condition that neither of you walked into this blind. He's hoping you and Eric can settle things once and for all.”

Shelly didn't respond; apparently she was still considering the invitation.

“Do you have family in the area?” Olivia asked, wanting to get some idea of Shelly's support system.

“No—my mother died when I was a baby and my dad hasn't really been part of my life. I was raised by my grandmother, but she's been gone for three years now.”

“So you're on your own.”

“Yes.” She didn't seem interested in continuing with that theme. Instead, she burst out, “I just don't understand why Eric doesn't believe the baby is his. It's an insult to me and to everything I stand for.”

Olivia certainly didn't want to take sides. According to Jack, his son was incapable of fathering children, but stranger things had happened. “Men are just dense sometimes,” she said, hoping she sounded sympathetic.

“I very much appreciate the dinner invitation,” Shelly said, her voice gaining strength and conviction, “but I have to refuse. Eric and I are finished.”

“Not if you're carrying his child,” Olivia reminded her. “In that case, the relationship is far from over.”

“It doesn't matter. Eric doesn't believe me, and as far as I'm concerned, the courts can deal with this. I don't want to put a damper on your Thanksgiving—that wouldn't be fair to you or Jack or your other guests. It was very thoughtful of Jack to want to include me, but it just won't work.”

Olivia didn't feel comfortable ending the conversation just yet, now that she knew Shelly was alone in the world. “I'd like to keep in touch, Shelly, if you don't mind?”

“I guess that would be okay. Jack has a right to know his grandchild.”

They hung up shortly afterward, and Olivia stood there, thinking over what had been said. The young woman had shown extraordinary wisdom in declining the invitation, in Olivia's opinion. She could sense how badly Shelly wanted to be included in the festivities, yet she'd refused, knowing that the others would be made uncomfortable by the situation between her and Eric.

Jack arrived promptly at seven. “Well?” he asked hopefully. “Did you talk to Shelly?”

“I did, and she turned us down.”

“No.” Jack groaned and ran all ten fingers through his hair in abject frustration.

“What did Eric say?”

“He'd come to dinner if Shelly came, but otherwise he was thinking of joining a few of his friends over in Kirkland where he works.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” Olivia said.

“Not for me,” Jack cried.

And not for them, either, Olivia supposed.

“Damn, I was counting on better news than this.” He slumped onto her chair, then reached inside his jacket. “I've had this for weeks and was waiting for the right time to give it to you.” He took out a gaily wrapped package. “It's your birthday gift.”

She stared at him in complete astonishment.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “Open it.”

Olivia took the gift, sat down next to Jack and untied the ribbon.

“I'm sorry it's late,” he said, watching her anxiously.

She peeled away the paper and lifted the lid of a gray velvet
box. The instant she saw the diamond tennis bracelet, she let out a gasp.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Jack, I…I'm not sure what to say.”

“I wanted you to know how important you are to me, Olivia.”

“Oh, Jack…” She struggled to tell him how thrilled she was and then decided that words weren't necessary. With great care she set the box aside and slipped her arms around Jack's neck, kissing him in a way that would leave him in no doubt of her appreciation.

 

Thanksgiving would be a quiet day for Grace with just Maryellen for company. The divorce had been declared final on Monday. She didn't have to appear in court; Mark Spellman had phoned her late in the afternoon with the news that everything had gone smoothly. As of Monday afternoon, she was no longer married to Dan. All the paperwork had been signed, sealed and notarized. She was a single woman again.

Thanksgiving morning, Grace woke early. Just as she had a year ago. But last Thanksgiving she'd bought a twenty-pound turkey. While she stuffed the bird and prepared it for roasting, Dan had bantered with her and then gone outside to cut firewood. Later, Kelly and Paul had come to dinner and Maryellen did, too. It had been a pleasant day, a family day, full of laughter and warmth.

This year, Kelly and Paul were driving to his parents' home, Dan was gone and the twenty-pound turkey had been replaced by a small turkey breast and a store-bought pumpkin pie.

Grace found it impossible to contain her emotions. The house had never felt so big and empty. Sensing her mood,
Buttercup stayed close to Grace as she wandered aimlessly from room to room.

Shortly after she'd filed for divorce, Grace had cleaned out Dan's side of the closet. Although she'd searched his clothes before, desperate for some hint as to why her husband had disappeared and where, she'd gone through each shirt and pants pocket a second and even a third time. Then she'd folded up his clothes and set them aside to donate to charity. They were neatly piled in bags and boxes, which she'd left in one of the empty bedrooms for the moment.

The phone rang, and glancing at her watch, Grace saw that it was barely seven.

“Hello,” she said, wondering who would phone this early.

A burst of static answered her.

“Hello,” she said again, more loudly this time. An uneasy feeling came over her when the line was suddenly disconnected. She hung up but kept her hand on the phone for a few seconds. How…strange. This was just the kind of stunt Dan would pull. Dear God in heaven,
could
it have been him?

Was he, too, thinking about their Thanksgiving just a year ago? Perhaps he missed her; perhaps he'd read about the divorce in the paper's legal announcements. Dear God, this was craziness! Sheer absurdity. She
had
to let go of Dan, she had to stop thinking about him. Her marriage was over, and she had to move on to the next stage of her life.

Maryellen got to the house around noon. By then, Grace had the potatoes on to boil and the turkey breast was baking, browning nicely. She planned to mash the potatoes with garlic and serve broccoli and a small salad. “It smells good in here,” her daughter said as she let herself in the kitchen door.