Ultimate Cedar Cove Collection (Books 1-12 & 2 Novellas). Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ Eric’s presence had certainly turned Jack’s world upside down, but he felt he owed this time to his son, so Olivia had graciously taken a back seat. She didn’t like it, but there’d been no choice.

      Eric was married now—she’d performed the ceremony herself—and the father of twins. Last summer Eric, Shelly and the babies had moved to Reno, Nevada.

      Just when it looked as if life might return to normal, Stan had entered the scene. She’d give him credit; her ex-husband was persistent. He phoned her ten times more often than Jack did. She could have a date with Stan anytime if she was interested. But she wasn’t.

      Oh, she might’ve been, in the beginning. There was something so emotionally satisfying about her ex-husband admitting he’d made a terrible mistake in divorcing her. For a brief period, her ego had been comforted by it and she’d come close to letting those righteous emotions sway her. Luckily, common sense had convinced her otherwise.

      Olivia was sincere in what she told her ex-husband. Stan needed a woman in his life and he wasn’t afraid of a challenge. The problem was, he viewed her as a challenge. Of course, any woman Stan wanted would have to be adoring. Intelligence wasn’t a requirement, although it was a bonus. No question, Stan Lockhart was witty and possessed a high IQ. His emotional IQ, sadly, was far lower.

      The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as Olivia dealt with a series of family court cases, one after the other until they blurred in her mind. By the time court adjourned for the day, she was ready to go home and read recipes for gingerbread cookies.

      As she peeled off her robe, she checked her phone messages. There was one from Stan—no real surprise—and another from her daughter. Justine was a stay-at-home mother now, although she continued to manage the finances at the restaurant. She paid the bills and took care of the payroll. But when it came to the complicated tax laws, Justine was smart enough to leave those in the hands of Zachary Cox, her capable accountant.

      Olivia returned the calls, and after short conversations with both—” no, thanks” to Stan on the dinner invite, and yes, it’s best to use brandy in Julia Child’s fruitcake recipe with Justine—she prepared to leave the courthouse.

      She pulled on her coat and gloves and stepped out of her office to discover Jack waiting for her, leaning against the wall. He grinned sheepishly when she appeared.

      “Hi,” he said, straightening.

      “Hi, yourself.” Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. Jack wasn’t a handsome man at first glance, but he did manage to stir her restless heart.

      “Do you have time for a walk in the snow?”

      “I’d love it.” She’d been in a hurry to get home, but invitations from Jack were scarce and she wasn’t about to refuse one.

      He brightened, smiling that cocky off-center grin of his. “I thought you might.”

      Once outside, she noticed that the snow was coming down in large, soft flakes, the kind that floated slowly to earth.

      “Let’s walk down to the waterfront,” he suggested.

      The hill was steep and the street was often closed when driving conditions were unsafe. The signs had already been set in place not far from the courthouse.

      Jack tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. Olivia turned her face to the sky and opened her mouth to catch the falling snow on her tongue, the way she’d done as a child.

      “I love when it snows,” she told him.

      “I do, too,” Jack said.

      “Do you want to build a snowman on the courthouse lawn?”

      “I’d rather we went somewhere for a cup of coffee.”

      That sounded just as nice to Olivia. The lights from the marina were ablaze, the water catching their reflection as dusk settled over the cove. Boats bobbed gently on the surface, and with the snow drifting down, the scene resembled a Christmas card. The only thing missing was carolers walking by in old-fashioned winter coats or a sleigh gliding past.

      Jack led her to the Potbelly Deli on Harbor Street. The deli served a big lunch crowd, but stayed open until late afternoon. He went up to the counter while she chose a table by the window. Soon Jack returned with two thick mugs of coffee and a slice of pecan pie with two forks.

      “Jack,” she protested. “I’m watching my weight.”

      “Watch it another time,” he said, and handed her a fork.

      She accepted it, sighing heavily. “You know what this means, don’t you?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m going to have to walk on the treadmill tonight.”

      “I thought you did aerobics with Grace.”

      “I do, but that’s Wednesday nights, once a week. Everything I’ve read about exercise says four or five times a week is best.”

      “That often, huh…?” He sliced off a section of pie with the side of his fork.

      “Do you exercise, Jack?” She had helped herself to the tiniest bit of pie, avoiding the whipped cream.

      “Me?” He glanced up and the guilty look he wore was answer enough.

      “Oh, honestly, if you don’t take care of yourself you’re going to keel over from a heart attack. You need to get serious about eating right and exercising.”

      “Yes, Mother,” he said, and hacked off another chunk of pie.

      “Okay, I’m finished lecturing.”

      “Good.” He smiled as he said it, taking the sting from his words. He reached inside his coat pocket and removed an envelope. “I thought you might like to see these.”

      Olivia took the envelope and noticed the return address. It was from Eric and Shelly. Inside was a letter wrapped around a set of pictures. Olivia unfolded the letter and studied the snapshots of Tedd and Todd, Eric’s twin sons.

      “Oh, Jack! Look how much they’ve grown.”

      “Shelly wrote and said they’re both walking already.”

      “At nine months?” Olivia could well imagine all the mischief those boys were getting into. She didn’t envy the young couple. Thankfully, Jordan and Justine hadn’t walked until they were a year old. A brief sorrow, a pang of regret, came and went. She didn’t think about Jordan as much anymore. Whole days would pass without her dwelling on the death of her thirteen-year-old son, Justine’s twin brother. For years she’d played a heart-wrenching game of wondering how her life would’ve been different if Jordan had chosen to ride his bike that fateful August afternoon instead of heading to the lake with his friends. It was a question with no answer. Jordan had gone to the lake.

      “I have new pictures of Isabella,” she said, unwilling to be outdone in the grandchild department. She scooped up her purse and removed a small “brag” book Grace had given her for pictures. “Look at Leif, too. You won’t believe how much he’s changed.”

      While she finished studying the snapshots of Tedd and Todd, Jack flipped through the photo book.

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