“He’s a good man,” Bess whispered. “But a bit rough around the edges, don’t you think?”
“How do you mean?” Charlotte instantly took Jack’s side. He might not be the smoothest dresser in town, but he was honest, open-minded and he valued their opinions. This was the first time anyone from the newspaper had taken their suggestions seriously.
“I don’t know.” Bess shrugged, and reached for her knitting. “Don’t misunderstand me, I like Mr. Griffin, but I believe there’s more to him than meets the eye.”
“Do you want me to check him out on the Internet?” Evelyn asked, lowering her voice to a husky whisper.
“That’s ridiculous,” Charlotte muttered. The former schoolteacher had taken a computer class, and ever since, she’d been downright obnoxious, forever expounding on what she could find out about a person’s background. Evelyn fancied herself a private investigator, Charlotte thought sourly.
Before anything more could be said, Mary Berger introduced Jack, and he stepped to the podium, looking completely at ease.
Charlotte found Jack’s talk fascinating. He started by recounting his first visit to Cedar Cove and his impressions of the town. Bob Beldon had mentioned that the Cedar Cove Chronicle was planning to hire a new editor. It was Jack’s luck to arrive the weekend of the Annual Seagull Calling Contest, he said, and his retelling of the day had the entire room in hysterics.
His talk was one of the most entertaining they’d ever had. Those thirty minutes passed quickly.
The seniors gave him a standing ovation.
“Did you notice,” Bess said, whispering in Charlotte’s ear when they stood to applaud him, “he didn’t tell us a single detail about his own background?”
“Yes, he did,” Charlotte argued, then realized her friend was right. Well, she didn’t care. Where he’d lived and worked before moving to Cedar Cove wasn’t important. She’d always been a good judge of character, and her instincts told her she could trust Jack Griffin. Besides, Olivia had said Jack was from the Spokane area.
Later, however, Charlotte decided she was curious. Bess and Laura were right; one could never be too careful. Besides, her daughter was involved now, and that meant she had an obligation to dig up whatever she could.
On the pretext of finding out more about the Seniors’ Page in the Cedar Cove Chronicle, Charlotte stopped at the Chronicle headquarters next to the Laundromat on Seaview Drive. She hadn’t been inside the newspaper office in years.
The building was new, and it saddened her to see a neat row of desks with computer screens. She longed for the days when the scent of ink hung in the air and reporters yelled into phones and kept bottles of booze in their bottom drawers. Like in those 1940s movies. Or maybe she was thinking of Lou Grant. They didn’t make newsmen like that anymore. Jack Griffin, however, passed muster.
Jack came out of his office to greet her personally. “Did you enjoy the talk yesterday?”
“Very much,” she assured him. “But I was disappointed not to learn more about you.”
“Me?” He laughed lightly. “What’s interesting about me?”
“Your newspaper history,” she elaborated.
He rattled off a number of newspapers he’d worked for over the years. The towns and positions sounded impressive. When he’d finished, he waited as if he expected her to respond.
“Well,” Charlotte said, and sighed. “That does sound grand.”
“And boring. Which is why I gave a talk I hoped would be more entertaining. I’m sorry to hear you were disappointed.”
“Oh, not me,” she was quick to tell him. It was her suspicious friends—who didn’t know Jack the way she did.
Ian asked Cecilia to meet him at the Thai restaurant in Bremerton, where he’d taken her on their first official date. He’d chosen this place on purpose and hoped his wife would remember that night with the same fondness he did.
Cecilia had agreed, although dining out on a Thursday night meant she had to find someone to cover for her at The Captain’s Galley. He was sorry about that, but he didn’t have any choice; he’d had three straight days of duty. The John F. Reynolds probably wouldn’t be in dock much longer and this might well be his only opportunity to spend time with her.
He was at the table waiting when Cecilia arrived. He watched her come toward him and was struck anew by her loveliness. She looked better—healthier—than she had in months. After Allison’s death, she’d lost weight. More than she could afford to lose, but it wasn’t just that; it seemed as though his wife had given up caring about herself. She hadn’t bothered with her hair or her makeup, or any of the other things she used to do when they were first married. Their sex life had gone to hell, along with everything else. He’d tried to help her, but everything he suggested had backfired. He’d asked his mother to call, to talk to her, but Cecilia had taken offense at that. Perhaps if they’d met face-to-face… But his home was in Georgia. His mother had offered to fly to Washington—an offer Cecilia had rejected. Ian had tried to arrange an appointment with a Navy psychologist; she’d refused to go. He’d had conversations with her mother but Cecilia had accused him of interfering. He didn’t want to seem critical of Sandra Merrick, but he sensed that her sympathy wasn’t entirely a positive thing. As far as he could tell, Sandra wasn’t encouraging her to recover, to move on. And because Cecilia didn’t know his family, she’d been uninterested in their attempts to help. His own efforts to reach her emotionally had failed. He’d been in pain, too, dammit! Cecilia was angry with him and irrational though her anger was, he understood. But he couldn’t have been with her when Allison died. It was that simple.
“You’re frowning,” she said as she stepped up to the table.
She was probably right. He couldn’t think about the events of last year and not feel depressed.
He stood and pulled out her chair. Ian remembered how she’d told him, after their first date, that those small old-fashioned courtesies impressed her. He had his father to thank for that. Denny Randall had been a stickler for etiquette and taught all four of his sons well.
“I’m glad you came.”
Cecilia smiled as she reached for her linen napkin and set it on her lap before reading the menu. They always ordered the same dish, the phad thai, but it didn’t hurt to look.
Ian suspected she was already regretting that she’d agreed to see him. He hoped that once he explained why he’d asked her here, she’d change her mind. It was hard to remember he wasn’t supposed to love her anymore, because he did. He’d never stopped.
The waitress arrived and they ordered. Ian was mildly surprised when she asked for something different. He didn’t hear the name. Perhaps this was her way of letting him know she was willing to try new things, to change. He wasn’t sure if he was simply looking for signs, reading her behaviour too closely—and if it was a sign, was it a good one?
As soon as the waitress left, Ian decided to launch into his proposition.
“I’m really glad you signed up for those college classes,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Although I feel like I’m a thousand years older than everyone else.”
Actually Cecilia had left high school only four years ago. He was two years older than she was.
“Your car’s not giving you problems, is it?”
“No.” She sounded almost defiant.
“That’s good.” He wanted her to know how strongly he approved of her going back to school. They’d had a number of arguments over her working at the restaurant; Cecilia