311 Pelican Court
Page 25

As they sat in the reception room, Peggy picked up an old issue of Readers’ Digest and Bob jiggled his foot incessantly. It was all she could do not to reach over and stop him.
“Roy can see you now,” Corrie announced, holding open the door.
Peggy looked at her husband, silently wondering if he wanted her to go in with him.
“Not right now.” Bob shook his head. “I think I’d like to talk to Roy alone, if you don’t mind.”
He’d gone pale, she noted. “Of course. Whatever you want.”
Bob walked into the room and closed the door. Peggy gazed anxiously after him. She didn’t know what he was going to ask Roy, or if he had anything he needed to hide.
Now it was Peggy who did the pacing.
“I’ve always meant to ask you about your herb garden,” Corrie said from behind her desk. “How did you get started?”
Peggy folded her arms and looked out the office window, onto Harbor Street. “By accident, actually. Years ago we bought a house that had a rosemary bush and I loved the scent of it. I clipped branches from it so often that I soon bought a second plant and then a third. Before I knew it, I was buying bay and sage and basil. I found out that I have a knack for growing herbs. When we decided to move back to Cedar Cove—”
“Oh, you lived here earlier?”
Peggy nodded. “Bob and I both graduated from Cedar Cove High School. Bob was in the class of 1966 and I graduated two years later in ’68.”
“We’re close to the same age,” Corrie said. “I’m forty-seven and Roy is fifty-one.”
“Do you have a herb garden?” Peggy asked.
Corrie shook her head. “No, but I’d like one. Any suggestions?”
Peggy recognized that Corrie was distracting her, but she didn’t mind. The other woman seemed genuinely interested in learning about herbs. “Come visit anytime,” Peggy invited. “I’ll give you a few plants to start off with in the spring.”
“I’d love that,” Corrie told her.
“Bob planted the blueberries.” Now that she was talking, Peggy couldn’t seem to stop. “We have our own small patch at the side of the house. They need lots of water and it’s a struggle to keep the deer out of them.”
They must have talked for twenty minutes about recipes, especially ones with blueberries. Peggy stopped abruptly when the door opened and Roy stuck his head out.
“Peggy, would you join us?”
She nodded and walked into the room on shaky legs. Claiming the empty chair next to her husband, she reached for Bob’s hand. His fingers tightened around hers.
“I told Roy what happened in Nam,” Bob said, his voice low and emotional. “I told him there were four of us, all under twenty-five. We made a pact never to talk about it. I don’t know if our John Doe has anything to do with this, but I’ve asked Roy to find out what he can.”
On the night twenty years earlier, when Bob had described that day in the jungle, he’d vowed never to speak of it again. Telling her had been a one-time thing, an act of self-preservation. The burden of carrying his secret had nearly destroyed him and their marriage.
“Dan Sherman was with me.”
“Dan?” Peggy gasped. He’d never told her his high school friend had been in that hellish fight until now.
Peggy turned her attention to Roy. “Do you think what happened in Nam has anything to do with the man who died in our home?”
Roy leaned forward, his expression serious. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
The festive atmosphere in the halls of Kitsap County Courthouse was contagious. Olivia looked out the window of her chamber office, delighted to see it was snowing. Snow in December was perfect. It made her want to rush home and bake gingerbread cookies and string popcorn. Instead she had to listen while lawyers stated their cases and awaited her decision.
Finishing her tea, she reluctantly went back to the courtroom. The bailiff announced her arrival and those congregated halfheartedly rose to their feet as she took her place behind the bench.
The next case was called, and the first attorney stepped forward. Olivia glanced up and to her surprise, discovered Jack Griffin sitting in the back of the room, pen and pad in hand. He was already taking notes, and she hadn’t listened to a single case yet. Either he was in court on legitimate business, or he’d come to rile her. She felt her heart pound hard against her ribs.
But whatever his reason for being there, a few moments into the case, Jack stood and made his way out of the courtroom. Olivia was disappointed; they’d hardly seen each other in weeks. He was busy, she was busy, and despite effort on both their parts, their relationship hadn’t returned to the closeness they used to share. Damn it all, she missed Jack. Missed the fun they’d had together, his merciless teasing, his potent kisses. A woman her age shouldn’t be thinking about such things in the middle of a custody case, but Olivia couldn’t help it.
She wanted him back in her life, and she longed for their relationship to be what it had once been. She didn’t know who was the guilty party, she or Jack. A year earlier they’d had dinner together at least twice a week. Jack regularly came to the house on Tuesday nights and they’d watch crime shows on the Discovery channel. She hadn’t seen him on a Tuesday night in months.
All of that was before his son had moved in with him, she remembered. Eric’s presence had certainly turned Jack’s world upside down, but he felt he owed this time to his son, so Olivia had graciously taken a back seat. She didn’t like it, but there’d been no choice.
Eric was married now—she’d performed the ceremony herself—and the father of twins. Last summer Eric, Shelly and the babies had moved to Reno, Nevada.
Just when it looked as if life might return to normal, Stan had entered the scene. She’d give him credit; her ex-husband was persistent. He phoned her ten times more often than Jack did. She could have a date with Stan anytime if she was interested. But she wasn’t.
Oh, she might’ve been, in the beginning. There was something so emotionally satisfying about her ex-husband admitting he’d made a terrible mistake in divorcing her. For a brief period, her ego had been comforted by it and she’d come close to letting those righteous emotions sway her. Luckily, common sense had convinced her otherwise.
Olivia was sincere in what she told her ex-husband. Stan needed a woman in his life and he wasn’t afraid of a challenge. The problem was, he viewed her as a challenge. Of course, any woman Stan wanted would have to be adoring. Intelligence wasn’t a requirement, although it was a bonus. No question, Stan Lockhart was witty and possessed a high IQ. His emotional IQ, sadly, was far lower.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as Olivia dealt with a series of family court cases, one after the other until they blurred in her mind. By the time court adjourned for the day, she was ready to go home and read recipes for gingerbread cookies.
As she peeled off her robe, she checked her phone messages. There was one from Stan—no real surprise—and another from her daughter. Justine was a stay-at-home mother now, although she continued to manage the finances at the restaurant. She paid the bills and took care of the payroll. But when it came to the complicated tax laws, Justine was smart enough to leave those in the hands of Zachary Cox, her capable accountant.
Olivia returned the calls, and after short conversations with both—“no, thanks” to Stan on the dinner invite, and yes, it’s best to use brandy in Julia Child’s fruitcake recipe with Justine—she prepared to leave the courthouse.
She pulled on her coat and gloves and stepped out of her office to discover Jack waiting for her, leaning against the wall. He grinned sheepishly when she appeared.
“Hi,” he said, straightening.
“Hi yourself.” Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Jack wasn’t a handsome man at first glance, but he did manage to stir her restless heart.
“Do you have time for a walk in the snow?”
“I’d love it.” She’d been in a hurry to get home, but invitations from Jack were scarce and she wasn’t about to refuse one.
He brightened, smiling that cocky off-center grin of his. “I thought you might.”
Once outside, she noticed that the snow was coming down in large, soft flakes, the kind that floated slowly to earth.
“Let’s walk down to the waterfront,” he suggested.
The hill was steep and the street was often closed when driving conditions were unsafe. The signs had already been set in place not far from the courthouse.
Jack tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. Olivia turned her face to the sky and opened her mouth to catch the falling snow on her tongue, the way she’d done as a child.
“I love when it snows,” she told him.
“I do, too,” Jack said.
“Do you want to build a snowman on the courthouse lawn?”
“I’d rather we went somewhere for a cup of coffee.”
That sounded just as nice to Olivia. The lights from the marina were ablaze, the water catching their reflection as dusk settled over the cove. Boats bobbed gently on the surface, and with the snow drifting down, the scene resembled a Christmas card. The only thing missing was carolers walking by in old-fashioned winter coats or a sleigh gliding past.
Jack led her to the Pot Belly Deli on Harbor Street. The deli served a big lunch crowd, but stayed open until late afternoon. He went up to the counter while she chose a table by the window. Soon Jack returned with two thick mugs of coffee and a slice of pecan pie with two forks.
“Jack,” she protested. “I’m watching my weight.”
“Watch it another time,” he said, and handed her a fork.
She accepted it, sighing heavily. “You know what this means, don’t you?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m going to have to walk on the treadmill tonight.”
“I thought you did aerobics with Grace.”
“I do, but that’s Wednesday nights, once a week. Everything I’ve read about exercise says four or five times a week is best.”
“That often, huh…?” He sliced off a section of pie with the side of his fork.
“Do you exercise, Jack?” She had helped herself to the tiniest bit of pie, avoiding the whipped cream.
“Me?” He glanced up and the guilty look he wore was answer enough.
“Oh, honestly, if you don’t take care of yourself you’re going to keel over from a heart attack. You need to get serious about eating right and exercising.”
“Yes, Mother,” he said, and hacked off another chunk of pie.
“Okay, I’m finished lecturing.”
“Good.” He smiled as he said it, taking the sting from his words. He reached inside his coat pocket and removed an envelope. “I thought you might like to see these.”
Olivia took the envelope and noticed the return address. It was from Eric and Shelly. Inside was a letter wrapped around a set of pictures. Olivia unfolded the letter and studied the snapshots of Tedd and Todd, Eric’s twin sons.