311 Pelican Court. Debbie Macomber
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Olivia would do. Over the years, they’d supported each other through everything from minor domestic crises to life-shattering events.
“I can’t believe I thought we could finish this in one day.” Olivia groaned. Straightening, she planted her hands on the small of her back. “I didn’t have any idea how much work this was going to be.”
“How about a glass of iced tea?” Grace was more than ready for a break herself. The two of them had been painting for what seemed like forever but was probably only an hour or two. Still, they’d had to move the furniture and do the prep work first—laying a drop cloth on the floor and taping the windows.
Olivia set aside her roller. “You don’t need to ask twice.”
Grace wrapped both paint-coated rollers in a plastic bag, then headed into the kitchen. By the time Olivia finished washing her hands, Grace had poured the iced tea into tall glasses. Buttercup, her golden retriever, scratched at the screen door and Grace absently let her inside. Panting, the dog lumbered into the house and stretched out under the table, resting her chin on the cool tile floor.
Grace slumped into the chair and released the kerchief tied at the base of her neck, shaking her damp hair free. She wore it shorter these days, since she no longer needed to worry about her husband’s likes and dislikes.
After witnessing Olivia’s pain years before, Grace had never wanted to go through a divorce, but when Dan disappeared she wasn’t left with any options. For financial reasons, it was the only practical choice.
That had been months ago now. Afterward, even learning Dan’s fate was anticlimactic. She was relieved that his body had been discovered, but she’d already endured the worst of the grief and guilt: the not knowing, the doubts, the recriminations—all of which had befallen her after Dan’s disappearance. So this sudden bout of insomnia didn’t make sense to her.
“This was the best idea you’ve had all day,” Olivia said, sinking down on the chair. “Besides putting on a Credence Clearwater Revival CD,” she added. They’d both gotten caught up in the music of their youth and hadn’t realized how hot and uncomfortable they were until the last song on the CD ended.
“We may not have the moves we did thirty years ago, but we aren’t ready for walkers just yet,” Grace said, and Olivia agreed with an easy smile.
“I heard about your latest decree,” Grace said, smiling across the table at her friend. They’d been working together all afternoon, but with the music playing they’d barely had a chance to talk.
“You mean the joint custody case?” Olivia asked.
Grace nodded. “It’s all over town.” This wasn’t the first time Olivia had made a controversial decision in the courtroom.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “At least Jack didn’t write about it in his column.”
So Olivia was going to bring Jack Griffin into the conversation. Good. Grace had been looking for a way to introduce the subject. He and Olivia had been seeing each other for more than a year, and Grace loved Jack for the simple reason that he’d made her friend happy. Once Olivia had started dating Jack, the local newspaper editor, she’d been…more relaxed. More lighthearted. Then, a few weeks ago, Jack and Olivia had a falling out, a difference of opinion, really—and they hadn’t spoken since. Olivia was miserable, although she wasn’t willing to admit it.
“Speaking of Jack,” Grace asked brightly, “what’s new with the two of you?” In her opinion Jack was exactly right for her friend. He was witty and funny and just outrageous enough to be interesting.
Olivia looked up. “I don’t want to talk about Jack.”
“Then don’t. Tell me about Stan.”
Stan was Olivia’s ex-husband, who now lived in Seattle with his second wife, but he’d been making regular appearances in Cedar Cove lately. Something must be up; however, Olivia had kept suspiciously quiet about it.
“You heard about Stan and Marge?” Olivia asked, her eyes rounding with surprise. “Who told you? Mom or Justine?”
“Neither one told me anything. I’m waiting for you to enlighten me.”
Olivia took a deep swallow of her iced tea, then glanced up, an uncertain expression on her face.
“Something’s bothering you,” Grace pressed.
“Stan and Marge are getting a divorce.”
Shock waves went through Grace. This was news. Big news. No wonder Stan had been coming to Cedar Cove more frequently. His visits were often under the guise of seeing his daughter, Justine, and his grandson, who’d been born a little more than two weeks ago. Grace found his sudden interest in family somewhat suspect. Especially since Stan had deserted his wife and children back in the summer of 1986. Jordan, a bright, lively thirteen-year-old, had gone swimming with friends one hot August afternoon and drowned. Justine, his twin sister, had held his lifeless body in her arms until the paramedics arrived. Everything in Olivia’s life was marked by that day; it was the dividing point, the boundary between believing the world was a safe place and knowing it could be a treacherous one.
Olivia and Stan’s marriage fell apart after Jordan drowned, but Grace had always wondered if Stan had been involved with Marge before Jordan’s death. She’d never said this to Olivia’s face, but she had her suspicions.
“You haven’t got anything to say?” Olivia asked.
Grace was almost surprised that Stan and Marge’s marriage had lasted this many years. The ink on the divorce papers was hardly dry when Stan had married the other woman. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she mumbled, which was slightly stretching the truth.
“I am, too,” Olivia said, looking melancholy and tired.
Then it came to her. Grace should’ve connected the dots much sooner. She felt like slapping her palm against her forehead in cartoon fashion. “Stan wants you back, doesn’t he?”
For a moment it seemed as if Olivia wasn’t going to answer, then she did with a nod of her head.
Outrage filled Grace. How dare he! How dare Stan walk back into Olivia’s life after all these years and expect her to welcome him with open arms. Of all the nerve! His timing was impeccable, too, she thought wryly. Naturally Stan would reappear just when Olivia had met Jack. He must hate the idea of his ex-wife seeing anyone else.
“I didn’t tell you about Stan for exactly this reason,” Olivia muttered. “You’re so angry your eyes are about to pop out.”
“I can’t help it,” Grace cried.
It occurred to her that Olivia might actually be considering a reconciliation with Stan. That was the worst thing she could do—and if Olivia didn’t know it, Grace wasn’t too shy to tell her. Stan had never appreciated his wife. He’d never seemed too concerned about what his leaving would do to her or to their remaining children. All Stan had ever cared about was himself and his needs, his wants.
“I know how you feel about Stan,” Olivia murmured.
“You’re not going back to him, are you? You wouldn’t really consider it, would you?” The thought was so repugnant Grace had difficulty getting the words out.
The perplexed uncertainty that came over Olivia was so unlike her that Grace had to make a conscious effort not to get up and hug her.
“I don’t know,” Olivia whispered.
Grace merely nodded, arranging her features in as neutral an expression as possible.
“The day Leif was born,” Olivia said, studying the inside of her glass as if it held the answers she needed, “Stan and I had the most wonderful time reminiscing.”
“You had three children with him,” Grace said, trying to suppress her own negative view of the situation.
“We were happy for a lot of