Cedar Cove Collection

“Don’t keep him waiting, then.”

“Goodbye, Stan. It was good to talk to you.”

“You, too, Olivia, and listen…”

“Yes?” she said, eager to get off the phone.

“Have a good time. You deserve a decent man in your life.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and replaced the receiver. She glanced down at the phone, overwhelmed by an unexpected rush of regret. They’d had a good marriage once…. The divorce had been final years ago, but she’d never stopped loving Stan. They’d had their problems—every marriage did—only she’d believed that the bond between them was strong enough to survive a crisis. Unfortunately she’d been wrong. Still, she’d always feel connected to him; they shared children and a history, and nothing could change that.

She hurried to answer the door. Jack stood there, looking the same way he did every time she saw him. He wore a raincoat, black slacks and a blue shirt with the top two buttons left unfastened. She was beginning to wonder if he owned more than one set of clothes.

“Ah,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her. “You look fabulous. Wow.”

Assuming something formal, Olivia had gone to a lot of trouble. The navy blue wool dress was new; the straight skirt was a flattering mid-calf length, and the bodice, decorated with a row of gold buttons, was formfitting. She purposely wore heels and dark hosiery, contrasting the outfit with the pearls her father had bought in Japan fifty years ago.

“Am I overdressed?” She asked the obvious. They hadn’t discussed where they’d be dining.

“No,” he said. “I’m underdressed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Where are we going for dinner?” She should have asked much sooner.

Looking embarassed, he told her, “I was thinking about the Taco Shack.”

The restaurant, on the highway outside town, was a roadhouse of sorts, where patrons ordered at the counter and served themselves. The food was some of the best in the area; it was also fast and cheap. The salsa was freshly made every day and known all over the county.

“I’ll change,” Olivia offered quickly, and left the room before Jack could protest. So much for a hot date. She’d been thinking they’d linger over wine and candlelight, and he’d envisioned tacos and margaritas. Fortunately she was a flexible person.

When she returned, Olivia had changed into blue-green plaid wool slacks and a matching green turtleneck sweater. “That’s better,” she said, hoping to put him at ease.

“You don’t mind?”

“I love the Taco Shack,” she assured him, and it was the truth. She should’ve known better than to expect fine French dining. Jack was a taco kind of guy.

He looked vastly relieved as he led the way to his vehicle. She could tell he’d made an effort to clean off the front seat of his car; he’d tossed everything in the back, which was littered with wadded-up bags from fast-food establishments, old newspapers, books and a variety of other junk she didn’t get a chance to see.

Jack seemed oblivious to it all. By nature, Olivia was neat and orderly. One look at his Ford Taurus told her Jack Griffin was her exact opposite.

Olivia had to fumble with her seat belt before she managed to secure it. It was obvious he didn’t often have anyone riding with him.

“Have you ever had the stir-fried jalapeños at the Shack?” he asked as they headed out of town.

“You can stir-fry them?” Olivia asked, thinking that sounded more like Chinese cooking than Mexican.

“Sure. Just until the skins start to blister. Then they squeeze lime juice over top, sprinkle on seasoned salt—and serve them with plenty of water.”

“You eat whole jalapeños?”

“You don’t?”

Olivia enjoyed a bit of spice now and then, but she wasn’t interested in experiencing pain as part of her meal. “Food isn’t supposed to hurt.”

Jack laughed. “You have a sense of humor. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Olivia liked him, too.

He pulled into the gravel parking lot outside the Taco Shack and hurried around to help her out. Not until he slammed the car door did she notice that it was dented and didn’t close properly.

Ever the gentleman, he held the door to the roadhouse for her. They walked up to the counter, and stood in line; the place was deservedly popular. Olivia studied the menu, hand-printed on a large board suspended from the ceiling. She ordered the combination plate, which included a cheese enchilada and a bean burrito, and iced tea. Jack ordered something she’d never heard of, plus a side of the stir-fried jalapeños. That suggested he wasn’t planning to kiss her—definitely a disappointment.

She found them a seat by the window, vacated by another couple barely a minute before. When she climbed over the bench of the red-painted picnic table, Olivia was grateful she’d changed out of her dress. She hadn’t been here in ages and had forgotten just how rustic it was. The window was decorated with what resembled red Christmas lights, but on closer examination, she saw they were shiny plastic peppers. She found that an amusing detail.

Jack brought napkins and plastic forks to the table and a large container of fresh salsa. When their order was ready, he collected both plates, then went back for their drinks. The food smelled delicious and she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Jack’s peppers and the mixture of salsa and coriander.

They talked comfortably about a variety of topics: town politics, the paper, the play they’d both seen. She felt as though she’d known him for years. She wouldn’t have said he was her type, but she was beginning to believe she didn’t have one. Stan was an engineer, and like her, a highly organized person.

“Did I mention my son recently got married?” she said casually.

“No.” Jack grinned widely. “That’s great!”

“He’s about to make me a grandmother.”

He gave her an engaging grin. “You’re the most beautiful grandmother I’ve ever seen.”

Her ego thanked him. “Both the marriage and the pregnancy came as a surprise, but I don’t mind.” Well, she did…a little. “James sounded happy and although I haven’t met his wife, she seems very nice.” Olivia had her fears, but she wouldn’t second-guess her son and his decisions. This was his life, not hers.

“Stan and I were on the phone, discussing the prospect of becoming grandparents when you arrived. That’s why it took me so long to answer the door.”

“You must have a good relationship with your ex.”

“I wish we’d gotten along this well while we were married,” she joked. “Now his second wife’s getting the benefit of all my training.”

“Stan’s remarried?”

Olivia nodded.

Jack studied his dinner for a moment, then said, “Because of the treatments Eric underwent for the cancer, he’ll never father children.”

Which meant there was no possibility of Jack’s ever being a grandfather, Olivia realized. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be.” It seemed he wanted to change the subject. “Do you speak to Stan often?” he asked.

“Only in matters having to do with the children,” she told him. “They’re both adults now, so there isn’t much reason for phone calls and so forth. I suppose we’ll be in touch a little more often once James’s baby is born. What about you and your ex?”

Jack tore his paper napkin in half, then looked horrified by what he’d done. “I haven’t spoken to Vicki in years. Unfortunately, our divorce was bitter.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again because she could see that talking about his ex-wife distressed him.