311 Pelican Court

“You do that,” she said, but she already knew her words had gone in one ear and out the other. Louie Benson had given her a bit of helpful advice, however. She needed facts and figures.

Charlotte decided to leave as soon as she finished this purl row. No one wanted to listen to a cranky old woman. Least of all this roomful of men, each one struggling to appear more important than the next. The door at the back of the room creaked open, and assuming it was another councillor, Charlotte didn’t turn to look.

To her surprise, it was Ben Rhodes. He was a tall, distinguished man with a thick head of white hair. She might be seventy-five, but Charlotte had never been immune to a handsome man…and still wasn’t. Some of the ladies at the Senior Center thought of Ben as a Cesar Romero look-alike. He’d recently moved to the area and she didn’t know him well, but he was a popular figure at the center—for obvious reasons.

“Hello, Ben,” she said when he took a seat across the aisle from her.

He glanced in her direction; she could tell from the blank look in his eyes that he didn’t recognize her.

“I’m Charlotte Jefferson from the Henry M. Jackson Senior Center.”

A warm smile transformed Ben’s face as he crossed the aisle and sat one chair away from her. They hadn’t been formally introduced, but she’d seen him a number of times. Ben was at the Senior Center every Monday, the same as she, only he played bridge and pinochle and she was part of the ladies’ knitting group.

Ben always came alone and she’d wondered about his wife, but they’d never had an opportunity to talk. From the way the ladies fluttered around him like bees over a glass of lemonade, she guessed he was a widower.

She’d made a point of saying hello to him the afternoon Olivia was guest of honor at the once-a-month luncheons the center put on. But she’d spoken to so many people that day. It’d been glorious having her own daughter give such an impressive speech. Still, that was months ago now, and Charlotte wasn’t sure Ben even remembered that Olivia was her daughter.

“I didn’t know you were interested in politics,” Charlotte said, starting a fresh row despite her earlier decision to leave. There was no need to rush now that Ben was here.

“I don’t much care for political discussion, but I wanted to make a suggestion to the council. What about you?”

“I’m here for the same reason,” she declared. “Cedar Cove needs a health clinic.”

Ben’s deep-blue eyes widened. “That’s why I’m here.”

“A health clinic with a sliding fee scale,” Charlotte said, “so it’s affordable to everyone, no matter what age or income.”

Ben nodded fervently. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

They sat through the meeting with one empty chair between them. When Matthew Harper asked if there was any new business, Ben stood, resting his hands on the back of the chair in front of him.

“If I might address the council,” he said.

Harper raised his head, glanced curiously at the two of them, and nodded.

Ben spoke eloquently. He talked about people’s right to quality health care and the advantages a clinic would bring to Cedar Cove. He finished with the statement, “Let’s work together to overcome the bureaucratic issues and get the approvals we need. If we can do that, we’ll have done what’s necessary to improve the health of everyone in our community.”

Charlotte felt like leaping to her feet and applauding. He’d spoken far more convincingly than she could have and without emotion. Ben somehow made it sound as though a clinic was eminently possible thanks to the council’s leadership and influence. Charlotte marveled at his finesse.

The council, all smiles, promised to look into the matter and report back at the next meeting.

Then the meeting was dismissed, and Charlotte tucked her knitting inside her bag. “You were wonderful,” she told Ben. “I could never have presented the case for a health clinic nearly as well as you did.”

“Thank you.” He stood and politely stepped aside, letting her exit the row ahead of him.

They walked out into the warm air. It was Thursday evening and music could be heard coming from the waterfront park. “I’ll have you know I skipped tonight’s Concert on the Cove for this,” she said, although it was no real sacrifice this evening. The organizers had hired puppeteers and the program was geared more toward youngsters.

“How about a cup of coffee?” Ben offered.

Charlotte’s heart fluttered wildly. This was silly, but it wasn’t every night she got such an attractive invitation. “All right.”

“Shall we go down to The Lighthouse?” Ben asked.

Charlotte beamed. “That would be perfect. My granddaughter and her husband just opened it, you know.”

Ben looked suitably impressed. “They’re doing a good job.”

Charlotte agreed, but it wouldn’t seem right if she bragged on and on about Justine and Seth. She was thrilled at how well the couple was doing, considering how little practical experience they had with restaurants. What they did have was a wonderful chef, good people skills and genuine business ability.

As it happened, both Seth and Justine were off for the night, which was just as well, Charlotte mused, as she sat out on the patio with a lovely view of the cove. The revolving beam from the lighthouse could be seen intermittently in the distance, and the lights from the shipyard shimmered over the dark surface of Sinclair Inlet.

They both ordered coffee and apple pie with ice cream.

“What a nice suggestion,” Charlotte said, slicing her fork into her warm pie. It was spicy with cinnamon and went perfectly with the rich vanilla taste of the ice cream. Dessert was an indulgence, but life was too short to do without the occasional treat.

“There’ve been times I wanted to stop by here, but it isn’t any fun eating by myself,” Ben confessed. Shaking his head sadly, he told her, “My wife died six years ago. I don’t know if I’ll ever get accustomed to being alone.”

“My Clyde’s been gone twenty years.”

“Then you know.”

Charlotte did understand. Even after all these years, she still felt the dull ache of a deep but long-ago grief. Clyde was her everything: her faithful friend, constant companion, her husband and lover. The empty space his death had left in her life could never be filled.

“I heard you’re retired Navy,” she said, changing the subject before they became too melancholy.

“Forty years,” Ben confirmed. “I enlisted shortly after World War II, when I was eighteen, served in Korea and Vietnam. Retired as an admiral.”

“Children?”

“Two boys. They’re both married and have families of their own. What about you?”

“You met Olivia, I believe.”

He nodded. “The judge.”

So he did remember. “I have a son, too. Will. He lives near Atlanta, Georgia. He’s a nuclear engineer,” she boasted.

“Steven, my oldest boy, lives in Georgia, too. Ever hear of St. Simons Island?”

“Clyde and I visited there one summer. Let me think—it must’ve been back in the sixties, but I still remember how lovely it was. All those giant live oaks dripping with Spanish moss.”

Ben smiled. “Joan used to love visiting the island.” At the mention of his wife’s name, his eyes grew sad. Because Charlotte understood how devastating it was to lose one’s life mate, she gently patted his hand.

“It does hurt less after a while,” she whispered. “Life is never the same, but gradually we adjust. Every year’s a little easier.” Perhaps it would help if he talked, she thought. “Tell me about her.”

Ben looked surprised. “You want me to talk about Joan?”

“Only if you’d like to.”