Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-12 & 2 Novellas). Debbie Macomber
Читать онлайн книгу.
Naturally her sister would say something completely reasonable and make Maryellen feel all the more ridiculous.
“Why else would he do it?” Kelly asked.
Maryellen hated to sound paranoid, but her concern had more to do with what she sensed about him than anything he’d said or done. “He…when he came by to pick up Katie yesterday afternoon, he didn’t stay a second longer than necessary.”
Kelly sighed. “Perhaps he had plans. He does have a life, you know.”
“I realize that.” Her sister didn’t understand. Jon always used to visit, sometimes for as much as an hour, but not anymore.
The sad part was that Maryellen had come to anticipate his company. She enjoyed their conversations. When he’d left so quickly on Sunday, she’d moped around the house, not knowing what to make of this sudden change in their routine.
“If you’re truly bothered, you should ask him,” Kelly advised.
“I can’t do that!” Her sister meant well, but Maryellen couldn’t pry into Jon’s life. After all, she was the one who’d spurned him.
“You can ask him indirectly,” Kelly suggested next.
Maryellen hadn’t dated since her divorce; she was seriously lacking in social finesse when it came to dealing with men. She wished she didn’t care.
“For heaven’s sake, just ask him,” Kelly said.
Kelly was sounding impatient, so Maryellen ended the call. “Okay, I will,” she promised.
She replaced the receiver and thought about what her sister had said—that she could find out what she needed to know by asking indirectly. That was an idea.
Of course, she could always talk to Justine. She and Seth owned the restaurant where Jon was employed as head chef. They were casual friends, and they’d both had babies during the summer. It would seem perfectly natural to inquire about the restaurant—and Jon. Still, it struck her as an underhanded means of acquiring information.
Perhaps Kelly was right. She should simply ask Jon.
Maryellen mulled over how to broach the subject with him and not sound paranoid or interfering. Two days later, she landed on an idea. She’d ask Jon to join her and her family for Christmas. This would be Katie’s first Christmas, and it seemed a shame to be shuffling their daughter back and forth over the holiday. They could all spend the day together. It was a reasonable suggestion, and his answer would tell her everything she needed to know.
Maryellen bided her time. She waited another week, until Jon was scheduled to pick up Katie again. When he phoned to make the arrangements, she suggested they meet at the waterfront park. It was a bright, beautiful day and the small gazebo had a live Nativity scene. The local Methodist church routinely set this up; church members took turns playing the roles of Mary and Joseph, with live farm animals.
Jon was waiting for her when she arrived, standing away from the spectators, his camera around his neck. He leaned against the railing and straightened when he saw her approach.
She raised her hand and waved, and increased her pace as she pushed the stroller toward him. Katie was sound asleep, the diaper bag tucked in the rear of the stroller.
“I’m getting used to seeing you with shorter hair,” he said, and his gaze lingered on Maryellen for an extra moment, or so it seemed. “You look nice.”
“Thank you.” This was going better than she’d expected. She felt the warmth in his eyes and it reassured her. “You look good yourself,” she said, recovering quickly.
He shrugged. He reached for the stroller handles; apparently he was ready to leave. Maryellen’s heart dropped. It was too soon.
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked, and started to walk slowly down the path that wandered along the waterfront toward the marina. Many of the sailboats had decorated their masts with bright Christmas lights. In the summer, this area around the waterfront was filled with booths and stands—a local farmers’ market. At other times the paved area by the gazebo was a large parking lot.
“Sure,” Jon said, matching his steps to hers as he pushed the stroller.
“I was thinking,” she said, hesitating as her heart began to race. It might be silly to feel this way, but she was nervous and on edge.
At her pause, Jon turned to look at her.
“About Christmas,” she added. “I was thinking about the two of us sharing Katie.”
“I could take her Christmas Eve and you could have her Christmas Day,” Jon suggested.
“You’ve certainly been flexible with the schedule,” she said appreciatively. In almost every instance, Jon had been agreeable about the schedule alterations she’d required. “But my thought was that you might like to spend Christmas with Katie and me and my family.”
“And not have her Christmas Eve?”
“No—no, you could take her then if you wanted, but this is in addition to Christmas Eve.”
“You’re asking me to join you for Christmas?” His voice was surprised.
“I’d like it very much if you could come for the day.” She smiled shyly at him. She was shocked by the depth of her desire, shocked by how badly she wanted him with her and Katie.
For a moment, it seemed as if he was pleased by her invitation. Then, for no reason she could decipher, his grin faded and he turned away from her, physically as well as emotionally. “I appreciate the invite, but I can’t.”
“You…can’t?” Maryellen didn’t bother to hide her disappointment, although she attempted to swallow her hurt.
“I have other plans.”
“Oh.” Well, she had her answer, but it wasn’t one she liked. Jon had met someone else. She was sure of it now. “I should’ve invited you earlier, I guess,” she said, recovering quickly. “Perhaps we can get together next Christmas.”
“Perhaps,” he said, without committing himself.
Soon afterward, Jon made an excuse and left with Katie. Maryellen walked numbly along the waterfront. She felt rejected and dismayed and upset.
Not wanting to return to an empty house, she drove to her mother’s place on Rosewood Lane. This was the home where Maryellen had grown up. She loved this old house with the big dormer and the old-fashioned front porch. As a teenager, she’d spent many evenings sitting on those steps.
Her mother’s car was parked in the garage, with the door left open. Buttercup was outside and barked when she eased to a stop in the driveway. As soon as the golden retriever recognized her, she wagged her tail in greeting. Maryellen stroked the dog’s head and spoke a few words to her mother’s companion, then knocked at the kitchen door and let herself in.
Grace sat at the computer, intently studying the screen when Maryellen entered.
“Hi, Mom,” she said in a dejected voice.
Grace spun around, her eyes wide. “Where did you come from?”
“I just walked in. I knocked.”
“Give me a moment.” Her mother turned back to the computer and frantically typed something. Then she closed it down, stood and came into the kitchen, where Maryellen sat at the table.
“So, what brings you?” her mother asked.
She was behaving a bit strangely, Maryellen thought, frowning. It was almost as if she’d stumbled upon her mother doing something illegal. Whatever it was, Grace had guilty written all over her. If she hadn’t been so absorbed in her own troubles, Maryellen would have pursued the matter.
“Mom, I think Jon’s got a girlfriend,” she blurted out, and realized