“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.
“Oh, Jack! Look how much they’ve grown.”
“Shelly wrote and said they’re both walking already.”
“At nine months?” Olivia could well imagine all the mischief those boys were getting into. She didn’t envy the young couple. Thankfully, Jordan and Justine hadn’t walked until they were a year old. A brief sorrow, a pang of regret, came and went. She didn’t think about Jordan as much anymore. Whole days would pass without her dwelling on the death of her thirteen-year-old son, Justine’s twin brother. For years she’d played a heart-wrenching game of wondering how her life would’ve been different if Jordan had chosen to ride his bike that fateful August afternoon instead of heading to the lake with his friends. It was a question with no answer. Jordan had gone to the lake.
“I have new pictures of Isabella,” she said, unwilling to be outdone in the grandchild department. She scooped up her purse and removed a small “brag” book Grace had given her for pictures. “Look at Leif, too. You won’t believe how much he’s changed.”
While she finished studying the snapshots of Tedd and Todd, Jack flipped through the photo book.
“Isabella and Leif are cute,” Jack agreed, “but Tedd and Todd are cuter.”
Slowly Olivia lowered the snapshots. “You don’t want to go there, Jack Griffin. My grandchildren are the most perfect, beautiful grandchildren in the entire universe. I’d hate to slap a fine on you for denying the truth.”
He sat back and arched his eyebrows. “Really? I could always write another article about you in The Chronicle,” he returned.
Olivia laughed. “Truce, truce. Let’s agree we both have the brightest, most intelligent grandchildren ever to grace the earth. Deal?”
Jack smiled and reached for his fork. Only this bite was for her.
She declined with a shake of her head, but Jack was having none of it.
“I’ll have to work it off later and I hate the treadmill.”
“We could always go walking.”
However, by now it’d stopped snowing and a light drizzle had started. “In the rain?”
Jack frowned. “How about if you take me Christmas shopping? I need to mail off gifts for Eric, Shelly and the boys, and I could use the help.”
“Deal,” she agreed, and leaned forward to accept the sliver of pie. It really did taste divine and she closed her eyes to savor this small bite.
“You ready?” he asked, sipping his coffee.
“Ready.” She stood, picking up her coat, which was draped on the chair behind her.
It wasn’t until they were on their way out the door that Olivia realized this was the first time in months that Stan’s silent presence hadn’t loomed over them.
This was a good sign, a very good sign indeed.
Zach studied the young woman in the chair opposite his desk. This was the part of the job he detested most. Hiring new employees. Cecilia Randall was the last applicant of the day. He’d interviewed four others and had found some reason or other not to hire any of them.
Cecilia Randall was nervous, eager to make a good impression. She was young, but she’d come with glowing references, although none were from bookkeeping firms. Her work experience so far had been as a restaurant hostess.
A dozen questions filled his mind, but federal regulations being what they were, Zach couldn’t ask them. He’d learned his lesson on that issue with Janice Lamond.
“You like accounting work, Ms. Randall?” he asked, clearing his throat.
She nodded vigorously. “Very much. I had top marks in my class.” She leaned forward and motioned to an entry at the bottom of her résumé. “I recently earned my accounting degree from Olympic Community College in Bremerton.”
Zach had noticed that. “I see your husband’s in the Navy?”
“That’s correct. He’s currently out at sea.” She clasped her hands in her lap and squeezed her fingers tightly together. “I miss him very much, but his tour of duty is almost over.” She had the wistful look of a woman in love. That was good.
Zach glanced over her résumé one final time and mentioned his main objection. “I don’t see any previous employment in this field.”
Cecilia moved to the edge of her seat. “Yes, I know. Until recently I worked at The Captain’s Galley as a hostess. That was before it was sold. It’s The Lighthouse now.”
Zach nodded absently; he was certainly familiar with the restaurant, since he did their taxes.
Cecilia leaned closer. “They offered me a job, but I turned it down. Ian and I felt it was more important for me to finish my degree and get a job in the field I’ve been training in for the last three years.”
He gave her an A for effort, Zach decided. She’d stuck out three years of classes and here she was.
“I’m willing to start at the bottom,” she offered. “I’d be grateful for the experience and the chance to prove myself.”
Zach liked this young Navy wife. Another good thing—she was married and from every indication the marriage was healthy. Although he’d never admit it, he didn’t want to work in close proximity to a single woman again. He hadn’t seen Janice for what she was until the damage was done.
“Can you start Monday morning?” he asked, making his decision. He was tired of doing interviews, and no other applicant had shown as much desire for the job as Cecilia Randall.
Her eyes grew huge. “You mean I’ve got the job?”
Zach smiled. “It’s all yours.” He told her the salary and her eyes grew even bigger. He was afraid it wasn’t enough when she blurted out, “How much?” Embarrassed, she laughed and covered her mouth. “This is just great! You won’t be sorry, Mr. Cox. I’ll work hard and do my very best.” “I know you will, Ms. Randall.”
After he left the office that evening, Zach stopped at the local grocery and picked up a whole cooked chicken. It had never been one of his favorite dinners, but it was quick and easy and he didn’t feel like fussing with meal preparation.
Eddie’s face fell when he saw it. “I wanted spaghetti,” he complained.
“Chicken again?” Allison said. “Mom brought home a chicken two nights ago. Doesn’t anyone in this family know how to cook?”
“Yes,” Zach said, losing his patience. “You do.”
“Me?” Allison snarled back at him. “What makes you think I can cook?”
“Didn’t you take home economics this trimester?”
“Yes, but we’re not—”
“You get home first in the afternoon—you can put on dinner for Eddie and me.”
“You want me to cook just because I’m a girl, don’t you?” Her eyes filled with fiery indignation.
Zach wasn’t about to get caught in the “My Dad is a Chauvinist” trap. “If Eddie