6 Rainier Drive (17 page)

O
n the last Saturday of May, Charlotte and Ben decided to visit the Farmers' Market at the Cedar Cove waterfront. She loved the displays of flowers and baked goods, plus the various crafts. And she always made a point of visiting the animal shelter's booth, where Grace often volunteered. It was still too early for much fresh produce but the market did a thriving business, nonetheless.

Although the day was overcast, Charlotte chose to be optimistic and suggested they walk. Being a good sport, Ben agreed.

“Look,” Charlotte said as soon as they entered the market. “There's fresh rhubarb this week.” Her own garden had once yielded an abundant supply. She hurried forward to buy half a dozen stalks.

“I don't suppose I've mentioned that rhubarb
pie's my absolute favorite,” Ben said as he took the sack from the vendor.

“I thought peach pie was your favorite,” Charlotte teased.

Her husband recovered quickly. “Peach pie is indeed my favorite—in August. My favorite pie changes seasonally, sort of like those flags you hang out on the porch and have me switch around according to the months.” The current flag celebrated spring.

“Ah, that explains it,” Charlotte said, holding back a smile as she hooked her arm through Ben's. What she appreciated most about him was his gratitude for the little things she did—and, of course, everything he did for her. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her company and, while they didn't live in each other's hip pockets, he often accompanied her on outings. Grocery shopping was a good example. Ben seemed to actually like driving her around town, and she was grateful not to have to do it herself. He loved her children and grandchildren, too.

Recently he'd been in contact with his ex-daughter-in-law, David's first wife and the mother of a little girl. Ben didn't want to lose touch with his granddaughter and had taken to calling her every week.

“I thought we'd pick up some fresh clams for dinner,” Charlotte said. “What do you think?”

“Anything you do with clams is bound to be delicious,” Ben commented.

As they waited their turn at the popular fishmonger's, Cliff Harding came up beside them.

“Why, Cliff,” Charlotte said delightedly. She'd met Cliff five years earlier through his grandfather, Tom Harding, better known as the Yodeling Cowboy of 1930s and 40s movie fame. These days Cliff was considered almost family. Now that he was married to Grace, Olivia's lifelong friend, Charlotte felt a special closeness to him.

“You're looking well,” Charlotte said, accepting his hug. “Married life seems to agree with you.”

Cliff grinned a bit sheepishly. “A man could easily get accustomed to having a wife.”

“Couldn't have said it better myself,” Ben murmured.

“Is Grace still at the shelter booth?” Charlotte asked, glancing around.

Cliff nodded toward the far corner of the market. “Yup. She's trying to get a couple more of those kittens adopted out.”

“Have you heard from Cal?” Ben asked.

Charlotte was curious, too. Cliff and Grace had had a send-off party for him before he went to Wyoming. It had been a lovely evening complete with a barbecue and buffet. Charlotte was furious about the slaughter of those horses, and she felt
grateful that Cliff and Cal cared enough to take action. She'd made a healthy contribution to one of the adoption facilities. Because of Grace, the local animal shelter had heard about the plight of the mustangs, too, and collected several hundred dollars' worth of donations.

“Cal keeps in touch as often as he can. He's linked up with a rancher in the area, and there's lots of interest from folks here in Cedar Cove. Vicki Newman, the vet, has decided to volunteer, too. Some of these mustangs are in dire need of medical attention. She has a new partner, who agreed Vicki should go, so she's meeting Cal there.”

“That's great. When do you expect him back?” Charlotte knew Linnette McAfee missed Cal terribly. Corrie, her mom, had mentioned it when Charlotte had seen her and Peggy Belden at lunch recently.

“I can't say for sure,” Cliff told her. “He checks in whenever he can, but apparently he's in an area that doesn't get good cell phone reception. Sometimes I don't hear from him for three or four days.”

“Well, I for one think what you're doing is a great thing,” Ben said heartily.

Charlotte nodded. “I know Cal's the one who's actually out there in the wild west, but you're just as involved, Cliff, since you're paying him and he's using your horse trailer
and
you're going to adopt some of those mustangs. I'm proud of you, Cliff.”

By the time they'd finished chatting, and purchased the fresh clams, rain had started to fall. “We'd better head home before we get soaked,” Ben told her when Cliff had hurried off.

The walk up the hill from the waterfront left Charlotte a bit breathless. “I think I'll heat up some tomato soup for lunch,” she said as they neared the house.

“With toasted cheese sandwiches?” Ben asked.

“If you like.”

The gentle pressure from his arm around her waist said it was exactly what he'd like. This man loved a good meal and so, for that matter, did she.

Harry, her guard cat, was waiting impatiently when they returned to the house. He peered out from the safety of the doorway and promptly went back to his spot on top of the sofa, where he curled up and resumed his sleep.

After unpacking their purchases and drying off, Charlotte put the leftover soup on the stove and got out bread for sandwiches. When the doorbell rang, she let Ben answer it. Curious, she stuck her head around the kitchen door a moment later to see who'd decided to visit at lunchtime.

Ben's son, David, stood on the porch.

“David!” she burst out before she could stop herself.

Her husband hesitated, then invited him in.

“This is unexpected,” Ben said, and if David didn't notice Ben's lack of welcome, Charlotte did.

“You're just in time for lunch.” Charlotte felt obliged to include him. “I have homemade tomato basil soup and toasted cheddar cheese sandwiches.”

“I'm sure my son has other plans,” Ben said, his voice unemotional.

David, impeccably dressed as always, looked uncertain. “I can stay,” he said, “but I don't want to intrude.”

“Of course you're not intruding! Now what brings you to Cedar Cove?” Charlotte asked, joining her husband.

David seemed surprised by the question. “I came to visit you. I was in Seattle on business, and it's been several months since we saw each other. I felt I should at least make an effort to visit my own father.”

“What a good idea,” Charlotte said, leading him to the sofa. “Lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Charlotte.” He sent her a smile. David Rhodes was an attractive man, but unfortunately she'd discovered that he wasn't to be trusted. It was a sad reality they had to come to terms with. Still, he was Ben's son and as such, was welcome in her home.

Remaining stoic and unemotional, Ben sat down opposite his son. “I appreciate the check, David,” he
said after an awkward silence. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “However, it bounced.”

David's eyes flew open as though in shock. “Oh, my goodness, Dad, I'm really sorry. I had no idea. Why didn't you say anything?”

Charlotte wanted to stay and listen, but she dared not or their lunch would be ruined. As quickly as she could, she ladled out three bowls of soup and cut up the sandwiches, then arranged peanut butter cookies on a plate.

“Lunch is ready,” she announced, carrying two soup bowls into the dining room.

Ben came to help her, but not David, who eagerly took his seat at the table. Charlotte returned for the platter of sandwiches, and Ben followed with the third soup bowl and the cookies.

David immediately started his meal until his father stopped him. “We say grace before we eat.”

Somewhat embarrassed, David set his spoon aside and bowed his head while his father said a few simple words of thanksgiving. David then had the good sense to wait until Charlotte reached for her spoon before he took up his own. She did so want to think well of Ben's son and could see that he was trying.

“I'll write you another check,” David insisted after he'd finished his soup, on which he'd complimented Charlotte any number of times.

Ben didn't encourage him, nor did he refuse his son's offer.

“You're staying in Seattle, David?” she asked, making conversation.

He nodded. “I'm at a hotel downtown.”

“How long will you be there?” Charlotte asked next, wanting to cover the uncomfortable silence.

“I leave tomorrow. Say,” David said, “on my way into town, I drove past the waterfront. What happened to The Lighthouse restaurant? It's gone.”

“It was destroyed by a fire,” Ben responded, “that seems to have been set by an arsonist.”

David's brows shot up and he leaned forward. “Here in Cedar Cove? That's hard to believe.”

“It was terribly shocking,” Charlotte agreed. “Poor Justine and Seth have been beside themselves. Until everything's settled, Justine is working part-time at the bank and Seth has taken a sales job.”

“What about the fire? Is there a suspect?”

Ben exhaled slowly, as though loath to discuss the subject. “A high-school boy appears to be responsible. The sheriff has called Anson Butler a ‘person of interest.' The boy hasn't been seen since the fire and apparently Seth let him go shortly beforehand.”

“Everyone in town is heartbroken for Seth and Justine,” Charlotte said. “But I'm sure they'll rebuild soon.”

“I feel bad for them,” David said, sounding sincere. “I hope everything works out for your granddaughter, Charlotte.”

She was touched by his words and thanked David. “A cookie?” she asked, passing him the plate.

David took two.

Before he left, he wrote his father another check. “I couldn't be more embarrassed, Dad,” he said. “You shouldn't have any problem with this one.” He shifted his eyes from Ben to Charlotte, then stared at the floor. “You might want to wait until the first of the month, though, if that's not inconvenient.”

Again Ben didn't comment. He accepted the check, nodded his head at David's request and walked his son to the door.

“Next time, let us know when you plan to stop by,” Charlotte chastised him gently. “That way I can make you a real dinner.”

“Thank you, Charlotte,” David said, kissing her cheek. “Next visit, I'll give you plenty of notice.”

Charlotte and Ben stood out on the porch with him. It was cool, and the drizzle continued. Ben put his arm around her shoulders.

“Come and see us again soon,” she said as David ran to his car. She waited until he'd started the engine and driven off before she went back inside, Ben at her heels.

“It was good of David to stop by,” she commented, watching her husband closely.

“Like you said, David should've let us know he was coming,” Ben murmured. He helped her clear the table. “Frankly, it would've suited me just fine if he hadn't bothered.”

“Ben! That's a terrible thing to say about your own son.”

Her husband shook his head. “I know David.” With that, he reached for the check his son had given him and tore it in several pieces. “This is as worthless as the first one he wrote.” Ben's eyes filled with pain as he crumpled the scraps and dropped them in the garbage.

Charlotte walked over to him and slipped her arms around his neck. “I'm sorry about this,” she whispered, wishing she knew how to ease the ache in his heart.

“So am I,” Ben said, holding her close. “So am I.”

T
he morning before the senior prom, Allison drove into Silverdale to pick up her dress. She'd dreamed that Anson would be her date on prom night. That wasn't possible, but rather than stay home feeling depressed, she was attending with her friend Kaci. Her parents didn't understand why she'd refused to go with any of the three boys who'd invited her, and Allison knew her mother was disappointed on her behalf.

Her cell phone rang as she walked through the mall to the parking lot, the dress draped over her arm. She'd purchased the cell with her own funds, hoping against hope to get the number to Anson so they could talk privately. So far, there hadn't been any opportunity. He hadn't phoned her again and his mother had no way of getting in touch with him, either.

“Hello,” she said as she walked toward her mother's car, expecting to hear Kaci's voice.

“Allison?”

She stopped cold. It was Anson.

“Can you talk?”

“Yes,” she said, hardly able to believe it. Despite her fears, her heart did a little jig of happiness. She had so much to tell him, so much she wanted to ask.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes,” she said. “I'm in the parking lot outside the Silverdale Mall.”

“Good.”

Before he told her anything else, she had to warn him. “Don't tell me where you are. All right? I'd have to tell the sheriff, so it's better that I not know. You aren't on a phone that can be traced, are you?”

“No.”

“Thank goodness.” She breathed easier. “How did you get my number?” she asked. His call seemed like the answer to a prayer, the granting of a wish, but she didn't think it was the result of either divine intervention or fairy-tale magic.

“I'll explain in a minute. There's something I have to say first.”

“What?”

“You're probably going to the prom tomorrow night,” he said, “and I
want
you to go. It's important to me that you do. I don't want you sitting home
alone because of me. If you think you're being loyal to me by staying away, then don't.”

Her throat hurt as she held back tears, and she found it hard to swallow, hard to speak. She was moved beyond words that he cared about her…that he'd even remembered the dance. “I'm going with Kaci,” she finally said. Because of all the traffic noise outside the mall, she unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat. She tossed her dress on the empty space beside her.

“But, Allison…”

“You're my date, Anson. I can't imagine dancing at the prom with anyone but you.” Closing her eyes, she could almost feel his arms around her.

“I'd give anything to be there with you,” he whispered.

Her heart felt like it was about to break. “How did you get my number?” she asked again, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Eddie. I had a friend phone the house pretending to be a guy from school and Eddie answered and gave him the number of your cell.”

“Now that I have my own phone, can you talk more often?” She had so many questions. Although she was desperate to ask about the pewter cross found in the fire, she was also afraid of what he might tell her. All she needed now, she decided, was the sound of his voice. The questions could wait.

“I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to call you,” he said.

“Please! I have to know you're all right.”

“I'm okay. There's nothing to worry about.”

“I do worry, Anson.” She wanted him to come back to Cedar Cove, and yet she was terrified of what might happen when—if—he did. A part of her yearned to tell him to stay hidden, otherwise he might end up in jail. At the same time, she longed for his name to be cleared. Only she wasn't convinced anymore that was possible….

“What can you tell me about The Lighthouse?” he asked. “Is there any news? Has anyone been arrested?”

Allison closed her eyes again, fearing this very subject. She hesitated.

“Allison?”

“Your cross was found in the ashes. It'd partially melted and there was a picture of it in the
Chronicle.
”

He muttered something best not repeated.

“You were there that night, weren't you?” Asking him this required all the courage she could muster. Her hand was trembling and damp with perspiration as she clutched the phone.

“Yes,” he said, “but I swear to you, Allison, I didn't set the fire. I did everything I could to put it out. I realized I'd lost my cross, but I didn't know
where. Tell the sheriff to check the fire extinguisher. My fingerprints should be all over it.”

“I'll tell him,” she said, eager to do anything that would help prove his innocence.

“Have you lost faith in me, Allison?” Before she could answer, he continued. “I swear to you I had nothing to do with the fire.”

“Who else could have done it?” she asked rather than admit her faith had been shaken.

“I saw him.” Anson's voice was so low she could hardly hear it.

“What?”
she said breathlessly. “Who?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Why not?” she nearly shouted. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't going to let him lie to her, either.

“I don't know his name,” Anson groaned, his frustration evident. “I've seen him before, but I don't know who he is. He ate at the restaurant. But I only saw him one time and then again the night of the fire. I swear that's the truth. I shouldn't have told you this much… I don't want to involve you any more than I already have.”

“But, Anson, I—”

“All I'm asking,” he said, cutting her off, “all I want from you is to believe me. If you can't do that, there's nothing more for me to say….”

“Don't hang up,” she cried.

She heard the drone of silence and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Anson?”

“I'm here. I should go,” he said.

“No, please.” She felt like she was grasping at wind.

“I can't talk anymore.”

“I went to see your mother,” she rushed to tell him. “I understand now what you meant when you came to me that night. You said it was better if I didn't know what you'd done. You meant the money you stole, didn't you?” She could only hope that was all he'd meant.

“I took that money from my mother,” Anson admitted. “I'm not proud of it and I'll pay back every penny. I promised I would and I will.”

“She let me read your letter,” Allison told him, “and I told her about your phone call.”

“Did Cherry tell you about the fires I started as a kid, too?” he asked.

Allison heard gruff voices in the background. She couldn't decipher what was being said, but it was clear that Anson needed to get off the phone.

“Yes, she told me.”

“No wonder you don't believe me,” he said. “Listen. I
didn't
nearly burn the house down when I was a kid. My mother was drinking and she left a cigarette burning. She blamed me, but it was her
fault. The other incident wasn't me, either. It was another kid from the neighborhood. I know this looks bad, Allison, but I swear I wasn't responsible for the fire at The Lighthouse.”

“I
want
to believe you. With all my heart, Anson.”

“Thank you,” he whispered and then, before she was ready, he disconnected.

Allison's hand tightened around her phone and she held on for a long moment, trying to maintain the sense of closeness they'd shared.

Anson had told her far more than he had in his previous call or the night of the fire, and it gave her hope that he was telling the truth.

As she drove back to Cedar Cove, Allison's thoughts whirled in a hundred different directions. On impulse, she stopped at the First National Bank. The last time she'd made a deposit, Allison had seen Justine Gunderson there.

Ms. Gunderson was talking with a client at her desk when she entered the bank. Allison sat in the waiting area until Justine was free. During that time, Allison changed her mind twice before she found the courage to approach the owner of the burned-out restaurant.

“Can I help you?” Ms. Gunderson asked pleasantly as Allison walked toward her.

Her knees felt weak, and Allison sat down in the chair opposite Justine. “I'm Allison Cox,” she said.
Because she felt it was important to maintain a businesslike facade, she extended her hand across the desk.

Justine shook it and seemed to take her seriously, which reassured Allison. “I don't know if you remember me,” she said. They'd met at The Lighthouse and at a party held by her parents a couple of Christmases ago.

She waited, but Ms. Gunderson gave no indication that she did.

“I'm Zach Cox's daughter—and Anson Butler's girlfriend,” she said in as straightforward a manner as she could.

Justine's eyes flickered with recognition.

“I talked to Anson today. A little more than thirty minutes ago.”

Justine leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. When she spoke, her voice was low and tense. “Does Anson know the sheriff wants to talk to him regarding the fire?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

“He knows.”

“Is there a reason he won't talk to the authorities?”

Allison wasn't sure how to answer that. “I want him to come back to Cedar Cove more than anything.”

“My husband and I realize he was upset after we laid him off.”

Allison had never seen Anson more distressed
than the day last autumn when he'd found her in the mall. He'd been so negative, convinced the world was against him. Convinced that nothing he said or did would ever be good enough.

“He was so hurt and angry when he lost his job. He didn't take that money, Ms. Gunderson. I
know
that. He'd tried really hard to do everything right—and then to be falsely accused… You can't imagine what it did to him.”

Justine sighed. “My husband felt bad about the way he handled the situation. We'd never had anything like that come up before. Seth liked Anson. In fact, he'd recently made him a prep cook.”

Allison nodded vigorously. “Anson thought he was making progress and that he'd be able to pay off the shed and—”

“The shed?” she asked.

Allison lowered her eyes. “He was making restitution for the fire in the city park.”

Ms. Gunderson went very quiet. “I'd forgotten about that,” she said after a moment. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “I've tried to put as much of this behind me as I can. As you might've guessed, this whole episode has been devastating for Seth and me.”

“Your husband knew about Anson's past. My father talked to him about it and Mr. Gunderson agreed to give him this job.”

“You believe in your friend, don't you?” Justine said gently.

“Yes!” She wanted to defend Anson, explain that he was a good and honest person and how intelligent he was. None of that made any difference, though, unless there was evidence exonerating him.

“If he's truly innocent, then your friend'll return of his own free will and answer the sheriff's questions.”

“I'll talk to him about it,” Allison said. The next time Anson phoned, she'd make sure he understood how important it was to contact the authorities if he hoped to clear his name. Otherwise, this fire would hang over his head for the rest of his life. Otherwise, the entire town would lay the blame at his feet. His reputation had cast a shadow of doubt over him, and his disappearance only reinforced people's suspicions. Refusing to step forward hindered his chances.

It hindered
their
chances.