44 Cranberry Point (12 page)

J
on walked Maryellen and Katie out to the car and buckled their daughter into her protective carrier in the back seat. Maryellen found it harder and harder to head off to work each morning when she longed to spend the day with her husband and child. Jon and Maryellen had agreed she’d quit her job by the end of the year, sooner if they could manage it financially. Maryellen was hoping to get pregnant again, too. She wanted no more than two or three years between Katie and this new baby.

She opened the driver’s side door and Jon came over to take her in his arms. “I hate seeing you and Katie leave me every morning,” he murmured, echoing her own regrets.

Maryellen slipped her arms around her husband, resting her head on his chest. “I hate leaving you, too.”

“It won’t be much longer,” he promised.

Maryellen nodded. They kissed goodbye and then she climbed into the car and drove into Cedar Cove. Kelly, her younger sister, provided day care for Katie and had done so since Maryellen’s return to work the year before. The arrangement worked well for both of them. The extra income
helped her sister, and Maryellen felt relieved that her daughter was with family. Kelly’s son, Tyler, was wonderful with his cousin and looked after Katie as if she were his little sister. Kelly and her husband, Paul, wanted a second child; although she’d only mentioned it to Maryellen once, Kelly seemed to be having trouble getting pregnant again. Maryellen sympathized but didn’t feel she could discuss the subject unless Kelly brought it up first.

There was no time to think about her family once she arrived at the Harbor Street Art Gallery. Summers were their busy season, with plenty of tourist activity and consequently lots of drop-in traffic. Maryellen preferred it that way.

A couple of years earlier she’d broken off her relationship with Jon in an effort to hide the fact that she was pregnant with his child. In order to avoid seeing her-at least before he knew about the pregnancy-he’d moved his work from the local gallery to a well-known Seattle one. His career had grown ever since. His work was back in the Harbor Street Gallery now, but it sold out almost as quickly as he could bring it in.

Maryellen knew that Jon had outgrown their gallery, although he was willing to provide a few pieces because of Maryellen and out of loyalty to the owners, who’d given him his start. The demands on his time and talent kept him increasingly busy. Maryellen was looking forward to managing his career and getting his work displayed in galleries all across North America. She had plenty of ideas, including reproductions in both poster-size and as cards.

At noon, Jon called and they chatted briefly. They couldn’t be apart for more than a few hours without missing each other and craving contact, even if that was only five minutes on the phone.

“I’m working in my darkroom this afternoon,” he told
her. In other words, she shouldn’t call him unless absolutely necessary.

“Okay.”

“What time will you be home?”

She smiled at the question because she got there within the same ten-minute period every afternoon. “Five-thirty-one,” she teased.

“Cute, Maryellen.”

“I can be even cuter if you want.”

“What I want is you. All of you, all the time.”

“That’s good to know because I’m more than willing to give you all of me.”

Jon laughed. “I’ll be waiting for my two favorite women at five-thirty-one.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Maryellen smiled as she replaced the receiver, warmed by their brief conversation.

A short while later, while her assistant was on her lunch break, an older couple came into the gallery. The building itself, more than a century old, was a historic site in Cedar Cove. As always, the wide wooden floorboards creaked as she moved out of her small office to greet the customers. The walls of the gallery displayed a variety of artwork-paintings and photographs-by several local artists, but the three pieces Jon had brought in earlier that week had already been sold.

Maryellen watched as the man and woman, arms linked, glanced about the room. They didn’t seem typical of the normal tourist traffic. The man wore slacks and a short-sleeved plaid shirt, while the woman had on a rather old-fashioned shirtwaist dress. It looked as if they were on a church outing rather than visiting a small town.

“Hello,” Maryellen said warmly. “Welcome to the Harbor Street Art Gallery. Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Hello.” The woman smiled and turned to her husband,
apparently waiting for him to speak. When he didn’t, she said, “We’ve heard there’s a very talented nature photographer from this area whose work is displayed here.”

“That would be Jon Bowman.” It never failed to thrill Maryellen when a customer inquired about him. “I’m afraid the gallery has sold out of Mr. Bowman’s photographs. I’ll have more in later in the month.”

“Oh.” The woman was clearly disappointed.

“His photographs are also available in a gallery in Seattle. I’d be more than happy to give you their name and phone number if you’d like.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, by all means.”

Maryellen walked over to her desk and retrieved a business card from the gallery that displayed Jon’s photographs. The man, who was quite tall and formal in his manner, accepted the card. He bowed his head in thanks and stared at it intently.

Something about him caught Maryellen’s attention, but she couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

The woman moved closer to her husband. “We heard correctly then? Jon-Mr. Bowman does live in the area?”

“Yes, he does. As it happens, I’m his wife.” Maryellen said this with a great deal of pride.

“I thought you might be,” the man said, speaking for the first time. His tone was low, a bit gruff, as if he didn’t speak often.

Again the woman turned to her husband.

“If you’re interested in seeing any of his work-”

“We’d like that very much,” the woman said, cutting Maryellen off. “That would mean a great deal to both of us.”

Maryellen walked over to the window. “If you stop at The Lighthouse restaurant, which is just down the street, you’ll see several of Jon’s photographs on display.” She pointed out
the window. “Until recently, Jon supplemented his income by working at the restaurant.”

“Doing what?” the man asked, sounding shocked.

“He was the chef.”

“Jon?” The woman’s tone was equally puzzled. “I…didn’t realize.”

This couple seemed to know Jon. “My husband is a man of many talents.” Maryellen hesitated, almost afraid to ask if they were Jon’s parents, uncertain what would happen if her suspicions proved to be correct.

“I-” The woman stopped abruptly and clamped her mouth shut.

Maryellen noticed how the man’s arm tightened around his wife’s; he seemed to be warning her that she was saying too much.

“Jon’s an innovative chef. He could’ve made a name for himself in that field if he’d chosen to do so.” Maryellen knew she was chattering, but it was the result of nerves.

“That’s wonderful.”

“Is there anything else I can show you?” Maryellen asked. “There are several talented local artists whose work we have in the gallery.”

“We were only here about Jon’s,” the man said, starting toward the door. “Thank you for your help.”

“You said Jon’s your husband?” The woman lingered as if she wasn’t ready to leave.

“We need to go,” her husband insisted.

“In a minute, dear.”

Maryellen studied them, wondering about the silent tug-of-war going on between the older couple. It was clear the woman had more questions, no less clear that the man was eager to be on his way.

“Do you have children?” the woman asked.

Maryellen nodded. “A daughter named Katie.”

The woman placed her hand over her heart. “I’m sure she’s a delightful child.”

“Oh, yes. In looks she resembles my side of the family more, but she has Jon’s temperament and his personality.” Maryellen gently tested the waters. The woman certainly was curious. “I suspect Katie possesses her father’s artistic eye, as well, but only time will tell about that.”

“Marion.”

The woman nodded. “We do need to go. Thank you so much…”

Maryellen nodded and returned to her desk once the couple had left. It occurred to her a moment later that she recognized the woman’s name-Marion. That, combined with the pointed questions about Jon, convinced her they had to be Jon’s parents. The ones she’d written shortly before her wedding. Marion and Joseph Bowman. She’d asked that they not answer her letter and they’d abided by her wishes.

Instead they’d come to Cedar Cove. Maryellen’s heart leapt into her throat. She could only imagine what Jon would say if he ever found out what she’d done.

R
oy McAfee was intensely curious about the news that Hannah Russell was living with the Beldons. He wasn’t a man who paid attention to idle gossip, but in this instance, he knew and trusted the source-his wife.

The last time Roy had talked to Hannah, she’d been on the road in search of a fresh start. Apparently she’d found what she was looking for right here in Cedar Cove.

Deciding to look into the matter himself, Roy drove out to the Thyme and Tide. Roy didn’t have many close friends-a few cops and former cops, all still in Seattle-but over the last couple of years he’d taken a liking to Bob Beldon. Corrie got along well with Peggy, too. It was rare that they found a couple whose company they both enjoyed.

Peggy had the front door open by the time Roy climbed out of the car. She was waiting for him, her smile wide.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” she said as she held the screen door. “Bob’s golfing with Pastor Dave this afternoon.” Checking her watch, she added, “He won’t be much longer, though, if you can wait.”

“I should have phoned.”

“Can I help you?” Peggy asked, leading the way into the kitchen. Without asking, she opened the refrigerator and brought out a big pitcher of lemonade, lemon slices floating on top.

“You might be able to do just that.” Roy pulled out a chair and sat down at the round oak table. He wasn’t opposed to a glass of Peggy’s lemonade, especially since she made it fresh every day.

“What do you need to know?” Peggy filled two glasses and sat across from him.

Roy stretched out his arms, folding his hands on the table. “Corrie told me Hannah Russell’s living with you these days.”

Peggy nodded. “She came in the middle of that lightning storm we had a couple of weeks back.” She shook her head. “Nearly frightened us out of ten years, arriving half-drowned on our front porch. You should’ve seen her when she first showed up, Roy. She was exactly like a lost kitten in search of a home.”

“Where is she now?”

“At work.”

Apparently Hannah was more than a visitor. Roy reached inside his shirt pocket for a pad and pen. “She has a job?”

Peggy nodded again. “This is her first day, and she was really worried about it. She’s washing dishes at the Pancake Palace.” Peggy frowned slightly. “I’d hoped for something better, but she was quite certain this job suited her. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have much self-confidence.”

Roy recalled his phone conversation with Hannah and remembered how timid her voice had been.

“She’s due back any time. I’m curious as to how her first day went.”

“I’d like to ask her a couple more questions if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, although Bob’s going to be disappointed if he misses you.” Peggy picked up her glass of lemonade and took a drink. “Did he mention he got the lead in
Chicago?
He’s pretty pleased with himself, so if he has a swelled head when you see him, that’s why.” She smiled as she said it.

“Good for him,” he murmured. Peggy looked proud of her husband, Roy thought, as well she should. “I saw him in
A Christmas Carol
last December and I was really impressed.”

“He played four roles in that, including Marley with the clanking chains. The costumes were so good I didn’t recognize him at first.”

Roy chuckled and noticed a battered blue Honda pulling into the driveway.

“That’s Hannah now,” Peggy told him. She stood and walked over to the door off the kitchen.

When the girl came into the house, her eyes immediately went to Roy. She offered him a brief smile.

“How was work?” Peggy asked her. She gently placed one arm around Hannah’s shoulders.

Hannah shrugged. “All right, I guess.”

“Do you remember Mr. McAfee?” she asked.

Hannah’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re the private investigator who called me, aren’t you?”

“I am, and I have a few more questions for you. Is that all right?”

She shrugged a second time. “I suppose so, although I’m pretty tired at the moment.”

Peggy got a fresh glass, filled it with lemonade and set it on the table. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk. If you need anything, just give a holler. I’ll be out in my garden.”

It looked as if Hannah was about to ask Peggy to stay, but she seemed to find sufficient resolve in herself to face Roy on her own. She sat at the table, resting her clasped
hands on the place mat. With her lank hair drawn into a ponytail and her eyes lowered, she resembled a shy schoolgirl.

“What would you like to ask me?” she mumbled.

Roy’s question had to do with Samuels. Some of the facts didn’t fit together in his mind. “I was wondering if you know anything about Colonel Samuels visiting California.”

“To see my father, you mean?” she asked, glancing up.

Roy nodded encouragingly. “To the best of your knowledge, do you remember ever seeing him with your father?”

She hesitated. “Yes, now that you mention it, he did come to see my dad once.”

Roy frowned as he scanned his notes. “I see I asked this question earlier and you claimed you’d never met Colonel Samuels.”

“I didn’t personally meet him,” Hannah rushed to explain. “But I did see him with my father.”

“When was that?”

She narrowed her eyes. “It must’ve been shortly before Dad left for Cedar Cove-yes, it was only a few days beforehand.”

“Was your father agitated?”

“Not really. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Roy said lightly.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked and he had the feeling she was eager for the questioning to be over.

“Not right now. I need to sort out a few things first. Will I be able to reach you here?”

“I should be around for a while. The Beldons said I could live with them for the time being. I…I probably shouldn’t, but they make it so easy.” She lowered her eyes again. “They really are wonderful people.”

Roy agreed with her there. “Thank you for your time, Hannah.”

“You’re welcome.”

Roy stood, ready to go, when he saw that Bob’s car was turning into the driveway. Walking out of the kitchen, Roy waited until he’d parked in the garage. Bob had opened the trunk, removed his golf clubs and put them away before he noticed Roy.

“Good to see you, Roy,” he said as he emerged from the garage. “Actually I’m glad you’re here. I need to ask a favor.”

“Ask away.”

“I mentioned that my car’s being worked on next week, didn’t I?”

Roy nodded.

“Peggy’s got a meeting with her garden club Tuesday night. Is there any chance I can take you up on your offer and borrow your car while mine’s in the shop? I’ll have it back first thing in the morning.”

“No problem.” Because Corrie and Roy worked together, her car sat at home most days.

“I appreciate it.”

“I can drop it off Monday evening, if you’d like.”

“Perfect,” Bob said happily. “Why don’t you and Corrie come for dinner that night?”

“Sounds good, but I’d better check with the boss.” Corrie was the one who kept their social calendar and there’d be hell to pay if he agreed to dinner without clearing it with her beforehand.

“You do that and get back to me.”

Roy left for his office a few minutes later. He collected the mail on his way in and dumped it on his desk.

Corrie generally dealt with the mail before he saw it, but she was gone for the afternoon. It was a lazy day following the Fourth of July weekend, and they weren’t completely back on schedule yet.

As he sorted through the bills, flyers and letters, Roy placed the bills in one basket and the personal stuff on Corrie’s desk. A postcard caught his attention. It was a plain white one, the kind available at the post office for the price of the stamp.

He turned it over and read the message twice. EVERYONE HAS REGRETS. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’VE DONE YOU WISH YOU COULD DO OVER? THINK ABOUT IT. There was no signature.

Roy set the card on his desk, staring at it for a long moment. Living the life he had, there were always regrets and misgivings. If someone was asking for a list, he wouldn’t know where to start.