For the first time Will seemed to notice that Ben had left the room. If he was looking to his stepfather for support, Ben wasn't there to give it to him.

"You mean you'd rather I wasn't living in Cedar Cove?" Will asked bluntly.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Charlotte told him. Will was, after all, her son and she was happy to have him there-as long as his intentions were honorable.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked, gesturing with his hands, palms up.

"The problem is Grace Harding."

"Grace?" Will repeated her name with a frown. "What's Grace got to do with any of this?" Had she not known him so well, Charlotte might have questioned her own perceptions.

"I know what you did," she said, refusing to hide her awareness of his behavior. She'd never spoken of it before, but Will needed to realize he hadn't deceived everyone. "That's all I'm going to say on the matter."

Will's frown deepened. "I suppose Olivia couldn't wait to come tattling," he muttered, anger shadowing his face.

"Hardly. I surmised what went on between the two of you all by myself."

Will exhaled slowly. "Let me a.s.sure you, Mother, that your concerns are groundless. I'm delighted for Grace and...her husband. I wish them the very best. Grace made her choice and while I wish she'd chosen to marry me-"

"Marry you!" Charlotte exploded. "You were married to Georgia at the time."

"We were planning to divorce," he said with perfect calm.

Charlotte knew he was lying. "Oh, Will," she whispered, her heart aching. "Do you honestly believe you can lie to me so easily? I'm your mother. I know you."

Will had never liked being confronted, least of all by her. He bit his lip, the same way he had as a boy. "Let me a.s.sure you, Mother, I am not interested in getting involved with Grace. I'm sincere about that. Like I said, I wish her and Cliff happiness. Right or wrong, I lost her and I accept that. I'll step aside."

"Do you mean it?" Charlotte asked, meeting his eyes.

Will grinned, and he certainly didn't look like a man who'd deceive his own mother.

"Scout's honor." He held his arms open and when she moved into his embrace, he hugged her gently.

He disappeared again soon afterward without mentioning where he was going. Ben was in the living room reading in his recliner, with Harry, her guard cat, on his lap.

"Feel better?" he asked when she joined him.

"I...think so. I couldn't go another day without speaking my mind. I had to tell Will how unhappy I am about his behavior."

Ben set aside his book, the memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, draping it over the arm of his chair. "Don't forget, I know what it's like to have children who disappoint you. You aren't alone in that, my dear."

He spoke from experience. Ben's son David had constant money problems and often came to his father seeking financial a.s.sistance. Wisely Ben had made it a policy not to give his son any loans until he'd paid off the money he'd already borrowed.

"In some ways I wish the problem with Will was money," she said. "He asked me to trust his intentions toward Grace. Really, I didn't have any choice but to tell him I would."

"I agree," Ben said, stroking Harry's fur from ears to tail. The cat purred with pleasure. "We'll have to wait and see."

"Yes, but what do I do if he goes against his word?" Much as she wanted to believe that Will would do the honorable thing, deep down she suspected he wouldn't.

"Charlotte, my love," Ben said. "Don't borrow trouble. Each day brings enough as it is. Take him at his word until you have reason to doubt him. Then and only then, confront him."

She nodded. "In other words, I shouldn't cross that bridge until I come to it-and other a.s.sorted cliches."

Ben stretched out his hand. "Exactly," he said, smiling widely.

Charlotte walked over to her husband's chair and slipped her arm around his shoulders. "I'm so glad I married you. You're a man of wisdom, Mr. Rhodes."

Ben kissed her fingers. "I was smart enough to marry the most beautiful woman in the universe. Now, didn't you say something this morning about an apple pie?"

"I did," she said with a laugh.

"Apple's my favorite pie for August, you know."

"I thought that was October," she teased.

"Hmm. You might be right. But we don't want to be rigid about these things, do we?"

Unable to stop herself, Charlotte laughed again. She did love this man. She'd found love twenty-five years after losing the husband she'd adored. All she could hope was that her son would find a woman strong enough to love him despite his flaws. Strong enough to teach him despite his failings.

If such a woman existed.

Fourteen.

He was acting like a high-school kid, Troy Davis chided himself. He'd actually started whistling as he got ready for his evening out with Faith. Whistling! Anyone hearing him, watching him, would hardly recognize him as the sober, level-headed sheriff of Cedar Cove-but he didn't care what anyone thought. This was the first Sat.u.r.day night in years-yes, years-that was about indulgence, not obligation. He felt a little guilty thinking that, since he'd loved Sandy so much, but surely he was ent.i.tled to an evening of simple enjoyment. Surely he was ent.i.tled to this sense of joyful antic.i.p.ation.

Faith had invited him to dinner at her house in Seattle. Late in the afternoon he shaved, then slapped on aftershave, the same brand he'd been wearing for decades. Maybe it was time for a change, he reflected. When he'd finished combing his hair, he searched his closet for a dress shirt. Not the starched-collar type; a knit one that would be considered appropriate for church on Sunday morning. Appropriate for a dinner date on Sat.u.r.day evening.

Ever since that first call, he'd talked to Faith nearly every night. Usually he wasn't one to while away an hour on idle conversation, yet he and Faith were on the phone that long and sometimes longer. Then they'd hang up and Troy would remember four or five other things he wished he'd said; he'd have to resist the urge to call her right back.

They'd met a week ago in Cedar Cove for hot, greasy French fries and a diet soda-at the Pancake Palace, of course. The haunt of their youth, as Faith described it. Afterward, they'd wandered down to the marina. They chatted and laughed and reminisced. By the time Faith drove back to Seattle, night had begun to fall.

Troy had waited until he a.s.sumed she was home and then phoned, just to be sure she'd arrived safely. They'd spent almost four hours together, and another hour on the phone once Faith was back in Seattle.

They hadn't kissed. Not yet, anyway. He hadn't even touched her in more than the most impersonal of ways-fingers brushing as he pa.s.sed her a drink, a hand on her elbow as they crossed the street. Frankly, he was afraid. He was determined to put those fears behind him, though, and if the opportunity arose, if the moment was right, he'd approach her for a kiss. She had to want it, too. It'd been so many years since he'd needed to read those signs.... Well, he just hoped he'd know.

Before he left the house, Troy rummaged through the bathroom looking for cologne, which, to his utter frustration, he couldn't find. His daughter had given him some for Christmas. Nice stuff, expensive. That must've been a year ago, maybe two, and he was sure he'd tucked it away somewhere in the bathroom. He'd never even opened the bottle.

Now that he thought about it, Sandy had still been living at home so it would've been more than two years. By now, it was probably ruined, anyway. Just as well; he didn't want to be too obvious. And he probably shouldn't wear competing scents, not that he'd really notice but women tended to have a better sense of smell. Fine. The aftershave was sufficient.

He straightened some magazines in the living room, trying to calculate when he should leave. He'd rather not show up early, which might look a bit pathetic, but getting there late might be seen as rude. Traffic and the ferry schedule made it difficult to figure out exactly how long the drive would take.

Just as he'd decided it was time to go, he heard the front door open.

"Dad, are you here?"

"Megan?" His heart sank. He hadn't said anything about Faith to his daughter. Not because he felt guilty, not really. But he wasn't sure what to tell her. It seemed too soon to describe the relationship as serious. Until he knew whether he and Faith truly had a future, he'd rather keep it to himself.

"There you are," Megan said, rounding the corner of the kitchen as he stepped into the living room, pocketing his keys. His daughter arched her eyebrows in evident surprise. "Don't you look good."

He grumbled something indistinct, wondering what he should say. His instincts hinted that Megan wasn't ready to hear about any other woman in his life.

Megan continued to study him, arms folded as she surveyed his attire. "What's the occasion?" she asked.

Troy shrugged uncomfortably. "Nothing much. I'm meeting an old friend." Now was the time to mention that the "old friend" just happened to be female, yet he hesitated.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were going on a date."

Troy frowned and shrugged again.

Megan shook her head. "That's what I thought."

"What?"

"I can't picture you dating," she said with finality. She seemed to think it was too improbable to waste time discussing.

"Why not?" he demanded. He might be close to retirement age but he wasn't dead.

"Oh, come on, Dad," Megan joked. "You?"

"I might want to start dating again," he informed her. "Eventually..." He didn't find her att.i.tude the least bit encouraging. Nor was he amused.

"No way!" His daughter looked shocked, her response even more uncompromising than he'd expected.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Mom's only been dead a short while!"

No one needed to tell him that. "I'm well aware of when your mother died." He didn't remind Megan that Sandy had been ill for years beforehand. Not once in all those years had he so much as looked at another woman. He'd been faithful to the very end.

"It wouldn't be right," Megan said stubbornly, her smile fading. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he returned, struggling to disguise his feelings.

"Like I said, it wouldn't be right," she repeated, more loudly this time. "People would talk."

"I don't live my life based on other people's opinions," he said, his voice sharp with frustration and annoyance.

"You'd be dishonoring Mom's memory." Megan was noticeably upset. "Good grief, Dad, it's barely been two months! You don't honestly mean-do you-that you're going out on a date? That's just...wrong." Her eyes, so like Sandy's, filled with horror.

"No, of course not," he said, his tone as soothing as he could make it.

Megan immediately relaxed. She smiled again, unable to hide her relief. "Thank goodness. For a minute there, you had me worried."

Troy sighed. No point in asking his daughter's opinion on the matter of seeing Faith. She'd made her feelings completely clear. As far as Megan was concerned, everything should remain exactly the way it was.

"I stopped by to see if you'd come for dinner," she announced.

"When?"

"I was going to suggest tonight, but I know you've already got plans-with your friend." Her face revealed her distress. "I should've asked you sooner, but it never dawned on me that you might be doing something." She bit her lip, then made an effort to pretend it wasn't important. "That's what I get for taking my dad for granted."

More than anything Troy hated to disappoint his daughter. "What are you having?" he forced himself to ask.

"Steamed clams and fresh crab I picked up at the Farmer's Market this afternoon. Craig's got everything in a huge pot, along with freshly picked corn and new potatoes."

"What are you celebrating?"

A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "You'll have to wait and see. Is there any way you could make it?"

Why, oh, why hadn't he left the house ten minutes ago? Then he wouldn't have been here and Megan wouldn't have known anything about his plans.

"Can you, Dad?" Her eyes shone with hope.

"I'll have to make a phone call first." The words nearly stuck in his throat. If there was any alternative, he would've taken it. Yes, Megan was spoiled; he admitted that. He guessed it was natural enough, since she was an only child and cherished by both parents. In addition to that, he and Megan had been through so much together during Sandy's illness. They'd grown close and solicitous of each other's feelings. Although Megan obviously had her limits...

"Oh, Dad." Megan sniffed and her eyes were wet with tears. "I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I can't."

"Save what?" he asked, trying to pretend that changing his dinner plans was no big thing.

"My news," she said. He could tell she was trying hard to keep her voice even.

Troy didn't know what to think.

"I'm pregnant!" she cried, and then she allowed the tears to slip down her cheeks. "Craig and I are going to make you a grandpa."

It took Troy a moment to grasp this. "You're going to have a baby?"

She nodded enthusiastically and started to laugh again, still weeping. "I'm almost two months. Can you believe it? It must've happened shortly after Mom died, when I was so upset and...and missing her so much. Don't you see, Dad?"

Troy wasn't sure what he was supposed to see.

"This baby is Mom's last gift to me."

"Your mother..."

"She sent this baby to me because she knew how lonely I'd be. Mom knew a baby would help me face the future without her."

"Oh." He was touched by how childlike she sounded-and a little worried, too.

"You're happy for us, aren't you?" she asked, reaching out and touching his sleeve, silently imploring him.