50 Harbor Street. Debbie Macomber
Читать онлайн книгу.
of what Will had done from something Justine, her granddaughter, had mentioned. It had been a casual, offhand remark about how Grace was trying to patch up her romance with Cliff after her Internet relationship with Will. Apparently this wasn’t the first time, either—at least for Will. Georgia, his wife, had hinted that Will had a problem with fidelity. Charlotte didn’t know whether he’d had actual affairs or they were all e-mail relationships. She had no idea what had happened in her son’s life to explain his behavior. Clyde would roll over in his grave if he learned of the careless way their son was treating his marriage vows.
“I wish now I’d said we couldn’t make it,” Ben muttered.
“But we can. I want to meet your son.”
“He’s a self-centered young man. Well, not that young anymore. He’s over forty now. I suppose I’m to blame for his selfishness. Joan spoiled them both while they were growing up. I was so preoccupied with my Navy career and gone so much of the time that I didn’t realize until it was too late. Unfortunately both my sons lack discipline and self-control. When I recognized what they’d become, they were already adults.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a perfectly lovely dinner,” she said in a soothing voice.
“I’m not,” Ben countered sadly. “But we’ve made the commitment, so we’ll do as David wishes and go into Seattle. I want you to meet my children, but it’s important that you know in advance the kind of men they are.”
“My children have disappointed me at times, too,” Charlotte confessed. She’d been mortified to learn that at one point her own daughter had hired Roy McAfee to investigate Ben’s background.
Ben stared blankly out the window. When he spoke, his voice was low and thoughtful. “Sometimes I feel as if my sons begrudge me any happiness. I think they believe I’d be more use to them dead.” At Charlotte’s gasp, he added, “If I know David, and I do, he’s counting on his inheritance to get him out of another financial mess.”
“But Ben, you should’ve told him…” Before their marriage, Ben and Charlotte had adjusted their wills. They’d left the majority of their estates to each other. Ben had left one-third of the remainder to each of his sons, and the last third to charity.
“It’s important that we attend this dinner with a positive attitude,” Charlotte warned.
“I know.” Ben sighed heavily and then hugged her.
“Everything will work out just fine,” she whispered. She had a good feeling about meeting David. She wanted to be a peacemaker in the family, to bring Ben and his sons together, and hoped that David would eventually grow to love her.
The timer on the oven buzzed and Ben lifted his head. “Does that mean what I think it does?” he asked.
“As soon as these cinnamon buns cool down, I’ll frost them and give you a small sample.”
“A small sample?” he protested.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I don’t want you to ruin your lunch.”
“I won’t,” he promised. Ben sounded like a youngster, pleading with her.
“Sometimes I think you married me because of my baking,” Charlotte said, smiling to show she didn’t mean it.
The laughter fled from his eyes as he gazed down at her. “Then you’d be wrong, Charlotte. I married you because I’ve never loved a woman as much as I love you.”
Three
Cecilia Randall arrived at Smith, Cox and Jefferson Accounting ten minutes early on Monday morning. She was just as glad to get to work. Being home by herself, without her husband, was lonely, despite her friends. The weekends were the worst, especially now that she was pregnant. Ian, her Navy husband, was out to sea on the aircraft carrier USS George Washington. Despite her reassurances, Ian worried about her—with reason, as he pointed out. Everything in their current situation was exactly the same as it had been with Allison, their first child. And Allison had been born with a defective heart.
Ian hadn’t been with Cecilia when Allison was born. Nor had he been there when Cecilia buried their infant daughter. Standing alone at the tiny gravesite had nearly destroyed her and subsequently their marriage. If not for the wisdom of a family court judge who’d denied their divorce on a technicality, they wouldn’t be together now.
Pressing her hand against her stomach, Cecilia sent her unborn daughter thoughts of love and reassurance. It would be different this time, with this baby. But everything had seemed normal with Allison, too. Cecilia quickly flung aside the doubts that pummeled her. Ian had enough of those for both of them.
Cecilia was five months along now and happier than she could remember being in a long time. She desperately wanted this baby. If it had been up to Ian, they wouldn’t ever have children again. He was afraid. Cecilia was, too, but her desire for a family had prevailed over her fears.
“Morning,” Zachary Cox, her boss, said absently. He sorted through his mail as he walked past her desk, which was located outside his office.
“Morning,” she returned.
“Allison will be in this afternoon,” he said, looking up from the mail long enough to catch Cecilia’s eye. “She’s trying to earn money for a car. Her mother and I told her we’d match whatever she managed to save. I’m hoping there’s enough to do around here to keep her occupied for the next few months.”
Cecilia nodded, excited about seeing Mr. Cox’s teenage daughter again. Cecilia had been hired while Mr. and Mrs. Cox were going through a divorce. The same judge who’d denied her and Ian’s divorce had made the joint custody decision in their case. Judge Olivia Lockhart had stated that the children and not the adults were the ones who needed a stable life. Instead of shuffling between residences, the kids, Allison and Eddie, were to remain in the family home and the Coxes would alternate, moving in and out every few days. It had worked well—better than expected—and before long Zach and Rosie Cox were back together.
Soon after Cecilia had begun working for Mr. Cox, he’d started bringing in his troubled teenage daughter. The after-school job was an effort to keep an eye on the rebellious fifteen-year-old and to limit her exposure to a group of out-of-control friends she’d recently taken up with. Despite all that, Cecilia was almost immediately drawn to her. The fact that Allison shared the same name as her own daughter had cemented their bond.
They’d quickly become friends and Allison often confided in her or asked for advice. Cecilia had watched her blossom from an irrational, angry girl into a lovely young woman of seventeen. The contrast between then and now was striking. Cecilia sometimes fantasized that this was how her own daughter would’ve looked and acted at this age had she lived.
“I’ll be happy to keep her busy,” Cecilia assured her boss. There were always a number of small tasks she didn’t get to by the end of the day, and this would help her catch up before she took her maternity leave.
“Great.” Mr. Cox entered his office, still perusing his mail. “Thanks, Cecilia.”
Cecilia was busy all morning with only a short break—a telephone conversation with her best friend, Cathy Lackey, whose husband was aboard the George Washington with Ian. The two of them had formed their own support group and relied on each other when their husbands were out at sea. Rarely a day passed that they weren’t in touch with each other.
At three that afternoon, Allison Cox showed up at the office, just missing her father, who’d left to meet with a client. Allison was willowy and classic-featured, a lovely girl. She wore her dark-brown hair long, all the way to the middle of her back. As she removed her gray wool coat, Cecilia saw that she’d dressed for the office in a green plaid skirt and white turtleneck sweater. When Cecilia had first met her, Allison’s favorite color was black. The girl had rebelled against the destruction of her family and lashed out at those around her. Cecilia liked to think that their friendship had helped Allison. In reality,