“Three years. I moved here when I graduated from the University of Oregon.”
“How did you end up in this neck of the woods?”
“My family and I used to vacation here when I was little.” In fact, Moonlight Cove was the last place her family had spent any happy time before her mother died.
“Lots of good memories, I bet,” he said.
Actually, her only good memories of her childhood centered around Moonlight Cove. “Tons,” she said, bending the truth. A lot. She was ashamed to admit how limited her happy childhood memories actually were. As in almost nonexistent.
“I have good memories here, too,” he said. “I came here every summer to visit Aunt Rose when I was growing up.”
“That must have been fun.”
Again, his expression shuttered. “It was.”
He seemed uncomfortable with the conversation, so she decided not to push him on the subject and instead focused on eating. Grant seemed content to simply chow down.
A few minutes later, he set his utensils neatly on his plate and said, “Dinner was fantastic. I could get used to this kind of delicious cooking in a hurry.”
A warm glow of pride settled in Molly’s chest. It was always nice to please someone who could express himself with words, not barks. “Thanks.” And then she thought, Note to self: fix him up with someone who likes to cook.
They rose and began to clean up, and when Grant went to take the garbage out, she ran through all the information about him she’d collected today. He liked superheroes. He was reluctant to date. He appreciated home cooking. And he was a runner.
Who should she set him up with?
Of course, she’d already set her matchmaking sights on Phoebe; she might be the perfect match. If that didn’t fly, there was also Anna Stevens, who owned Moonlight Cove Bakery on Main Street. She was single, and was the best baker in town, hands down.
Then a rogue thought crashed through Molly’s mind.
On paper, another person also had a lot in common with him.
And that person was…her.
She looked heavenward.
Hello? God? Looks like I have another problem I’m going to need Your help with.
Chapter Three
The next day, Grant glowered at the naughty dog sitting in front of his desk. “You’re driving me crazy.”
Jade had spent the morning alternating between barking at the squirrels in the backyard from the window, dropping her gross tennis ball in his lap and asking to go out every ten minutes, which not only distracted him, but required that he wipe her muddy paws off every time she came in.
She lifted her furry face. There it was, that dog smile she kept giving him. It was as if she could actually understand him.
He snorted and rolled his eyes. Yeah, right, Roderick. Maybe his killer work schedule had fried his brain. She was just a dog, albeit a very, very smart one.
He had to get some peace and quiet, or he’d never make his deadline.
Before he could figure out how to accomplish the seemingly impossible goal, his cell phone rang.
Grant pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the display. Dad. He and his dad were close, and Grant always looked forward to their three-times-a-week conversations.
Grant pushed the answer button. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “How are you?”
A pause. “I’m fine. And you?”
Grant’s stomach clenched. Dad wasn’t fine at all, and hadn’t been since Grant’s mother had died after a long, agonizing battle with breast cancer a year ago. Neither he nor his dad had really come to terms with losing Naomi Roderick.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Grant asked, wishing he lived closer to his dad in Portland. He might have cut romantic relationships from his life in favor of work, but he was still really close to Dad.
“Ah, well, I’m just…a little lonely, that’s all.”
The softly spoken words shredded Grant’s heart. His dad wasn’t recovering well from his wife’s death, and Grant wondered if he ever would. The once vibrant man had shriveled inside, and it seemed only a shell was left.
“You said you were going to look into volunteering somewhere,” Grant said, trying to sound as upbeat as he could. “How’s that going?”
“Oh, nothing really appeals to me,” his dad said, his voice subdued. Hollow. “I’d rather stay home.”
Grant sighed. “Have you gone to church lately?” At one time, his dad had found solace in the church.
“Nah, not yet.” A long silence. “It just wouldn’t be the same without your mother.”
Grant’s eyes burned. His dad was right. How could Grant ask him to look to God for comfort when Grant himself couldn’t do it? “I know, Dad.” Nothing had been the same since his mom had died. She’d been the heart of the Roderick family.
A wave of fresh grief washed over Grant. He slammed it down.
“Maybe I’ll go next week,” his dad mumbled.
“That sounds like a plan.”
Grant decided to drop the subject and avoid the pain for both himself and his dad for now. Anything more was beyond him. “Listen, as soon as I’m done with this project, I’ll come down for the weekend. Maybe we can go fishing.”
“Okay, that’d be great,” his dad said, but Grant could tell his heart wasn’t in his words.
They talked about a few other mundane subjects, then said goodbye and hung up. Grant sat for a few moments, concern for his dad oozing through him. They shared their grief, but Grant didn’t know how to deal with his own, much less his dad’s. He was at a total loss as to how to help. And with Christmas coming up, things would only get worse.
His mom had loved Christmas. Which was why he hadn’t accepted Molly’s invitation to go to church. He just couldn’t face a Christmas Eve service without his mom.
Jade barked at the window—the squirrels in the yard driving her bonkers again—jerking Grant’s thoughts back to the problem at hand. Aside from putting a muzzle on the dog, how was he going to get the uninterrupted quiet he needed?
He glanced outside, noting that it was cloudy and windy, but not raining. Maybe Jade needed a long walk to take the edge off her canine crazies. They could stop by Molly’s store and buy a new toy or two to distract Jade for the rest of the day. Sounded like a plan.
He hoped for Jade’s sake his strategy worked.
If it didn’t, it might mean a reservation at the local kennel. For the dog, of course.
Saying a fervent prayer under her breath, Molly let out a long-suffering sigh, her hands stiff on the computer keyboard. Why in the world hadn’t she taken more computer classes in college?
She’d spent the last two hours holed up in the back room of the store, trying to retrieve some tax files from her hard drive for the IRS audit scheduled for the day after tomorrow.
Two tear-her-hair-out hours with nothing to show but a fizzled brain, a throbbing headache and a sudden, burning desire to heave her computer through the window. Not to mention typing was tricky—and slow—with a bandaged finger.
She looked through the list of virtual folders again, including the one named TAX FILES. Nothing. The files were gone.
She shot to her feet and began to