Instead of speaking, she handed the newspaper to her friend. By now, Allison had read the short article two or three times. The cross had been found in the hallway outside the restaurant office and near the kitchen. Apparently it had fallen into a crack in the wood floor, protecting it from the worst of the fire.

Kaci read the piece and then set it aside. “Is it Anson’s? He wore one identical to it.”

“I told you he came to me the night of the fire,” Allison said, keeping her voice low.

Kaci leaned closer.

“What I didn’t tell you was that Anson smelled of smoke.”

As though horrified, Kaci pressed her hand over her mouth. Allison hadn’t confided in anyone except Cecilia, whose silence she could trust. “I…I’d never seen Anson like he was that night. I asked him what he did—I was sure he’d done something. He said—” she stopped long enough to regain her composure “—Anson said it was better for me not to know.”

Kaci’s shoulders sagged. “He did it, didn’t he?”

“I…I don’t know. I asked him outright and he swore he didn’t. He asked me to believe in him. And I do, I do.” Her throat started to close up again. “He said I’m the only person in his life who’s ever had faith in him.”

“If he asked you to help him now, would you?” Kaci asked.

Allison hung her head, unable to answer. What she had with Anson was more precious than any other relationship in her life, outside of her family. She loved him, but she had to stop deceiving herself. She couldn’t continue to believe in him just because she wanted to. It was time to accept the fact that Anson might be guilty.

Twenty

“Come here, Grammy’s girl,” Ellen Bowman called, chasing Katie around the kitchen. Over the weeks, the formalities had been dispensed with. Joseph had become Grampa Joe and Ellen was Grammy.

Letting out a squeal of glee, Katie made her grandmother run after her in a mock game of tag. Jon’s stepmother was endlessly patient with the little girl. Maryellen felt grateful—and deeply moved—to see how much Jon’s family loved her daughter.

Nevertheless, Jon still kept his distance. Nothing Maryellen said or did seemed to help, so the situation continued unchanged.

“It’s time for your nap, young lady,” Maryellen reminded Katie. The child had no interest in sleeping if Grammy and Grampa Joe were available—as they always were, at least on weekdays. Katie had grown so close to her grandparents. Joe was just as enthralled with his granddaughter as his wife, and they spent countless hours entertaining the child; it was as if she’d become the focus of their existence.

“I’ll take her up,” Joe offered.

“No, I will,” Ellen said.

Maryellen’s father-in-law laughed. “How about if we both go upstairs with her.”

The three of them disappeared up the flight of stairs and Maryellen figured it would be at least an hour before Katie fell asleep. Katie would insist that her grandparents read to her first and then sing to her and heaven knew what else. Only after that would Katie consent to have her nap.

Maryellen treasured the peace and quiet. Since Joe and Ellen had arrived, the pregnancy had been almost free of problems. Her stress had all but disappeared, thanks to her in-laws. She missed Jon, who still held his job photographing students in Tacoma schools. Never once had he complained, but Maryellen knew he hated it. She hated it for him.

But there was good news from the research she’d done online. One of the largest licensing agents in the business had agreed to review Jon’s work. This was no small success; if Jon was accepted as a client, it would change everything. His work would be licensed for use on book covers, calendars, ads, all sorts of places. Jon might never know where or when his photographs would appear, which was a bit disappointing; however, the up-front money and the royalties would more than compensate for that. Maryellen was thrilled to know that someday they could be on the road and look up at a billboard and see Jon’s work.

She hadn’t told him yet because she didn’t want to get his hopes up. For now, this was her secret and she held it close to her heart. One thing was sure: if he was accepted and his work became popular, their current money problems would be over.

Maryellen’s general health had improved, and the doctor was pleased with how well the pregnancy was progressing. Judging by all the fetal activity she experienced, the baby was feeling just as good.

Caressing her abdomen, Maryellen felt fortunate to have carried this child as long as she had. In three weeks—but more likely two, according to Dr. DeGroot at her last appointment—she’d finally meet this baby of hers. As with Katie, she and Jon had decided they didn’t want to know the sex of their child before the birth.

The phone rang and Maryellen answered as quickly as she could. Since he’d been hired by the portrait studio, Jon occasionally phoned to check on her. He didn’t often, and she knew that was because he didn’t want to risk talking to his parents.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi, Maryellen, it’s Rachel. I was just calling to see how you’re doing.”

“Hi, Rachel.” Maryellen responded, delighted to hear from her friend. “I’m feeling…pregnant.”

Rachel laughed. “Cliff came in to ask me if you’re ready for another beauty treatment.”

Her stepfather was both kind and generous and he, like her mother, had been more than accommodating. Grace had joked that they’d hold the wedding reception, two baptisms and baby showers all at one time, during the summer. Her sister, Kelly, was due to deliver her second child a few weeks after Maryellen. The family had a lot to celebrate.

“I’m fine, actually,” Maryellen said. “My hair’s still looking okay.” In fact, she planned to let it grow again. “I’ll call Cliff and thank him.”

“What about your nails?”

Maryellen examined her hands and sighed expressively. “That, my friend, is a different story.”

“I thought so. Let me book you an appointment.”

“It’s so far for you to come all this way,” she protested, although Maryellen would love to see her.

“Don’t you worry about it. I’ll be there at one o’clock on Wednesday.”

“Thanks—and when you get here be prepared to fill me in on all the gossip.”

“I will,” Rachel promised. Lowering her voice, she added, “You heard about Teri and that chess player, didn’t you?”

“You mean about her going over to Seattle and cutting Bobby Polgar’s hair?”

“Oh, there’s more. Much more.”

Maryellen sat up straighter. “Tell me now. I don’t want to wait until Wednesday.”

Rachel gave a small giggle. “He came to Cedar Cove a little while after the chess match, which he won, in case you didn’t know.”

Maryellen did. “To Cedar Cove? Bobby Polgar was in Cedar Cove?”

“Not once, but twice.”

“Twice.” This was even better than she’d imagined. “Tell me more.”

“Bobby’s from somewhere back east. I can’t remember where Teri said.”

“New York,” Maryellen supplied. Not that she was a keen follower of chess players—or chess, for that matter. But she’d read a lengthy article in the Smithsonian magazine about Bobby a few years ago, and for some reason remembered a lot of it. He’d been playing chess from the time he could walk. By the age of three, he was beating grown men in local chess clubs. It didn’t take him long to gain recognition. She recalled one picture in which this child, this little boy, sat with his small hand extended across the chessboard for a sportsmanlike victory shake.

“Anyway,” Rachel continued, “he came to Cedar Cove the first time to pay Teri, something he failed to do when she went to Seattle.”

“I hope she took the money.” In Maryellen’s view, Teri had earned it.

“She did, and they had a beer together, too.”

A beer? Somehow she couldn’t picture the great Bobby Polgar drinking beer with Teri Miller. “What about the second time?”

“He came back a week later. They must’ve gone out to dinner but I can’t say for sure because Teri’s been very quiet ever since.”

“Teri? Quiet?”

Rachel lowered her voice even more until Maryellen had to strain to hear. “The truth is, I think she’s falling for him.”

That was bad news. Bobby Polgar was the last man in the world Maryellen could see with a woman like Teri—irreverent and funny. She had a wicked sense of humor and a heart of gold. But Teri and Bobby Polgar, one of the world’s intellectual geniuses? It’d never work.

“Speaking of romance, how’s it going with you and Nate?” Maryellen asked.

“Good. I’ll tell you all about it on Wednesday,” Rachel said.

“I can’t wait.” For years Maryellen had watched the girls at Get Nailed bemoan the lack of romance in their lives. Then within a year or so, they all seemed to be finding love, and in the most unlikely places, too.

Rachel had been attracted to Nate Olsen after the first date. But then Nate had informed her he was seeing a girl back home; disappointed, Rachel had tried to forget him and gone about her life. All of a sudden Nate was back and she’d fallen head over heels in love.

After her conversation with Rachel, the afternoon sped by. When Ellen brought Katie down, following her nap, she baked brownies, letting her granddaughter “help,” while Joe did some work in the garden.

“These are Jon’s favorite,” Ellen said, cutting the brownies and setting them on a plate on the kitchen counter.

Conscious of the time, the older couple packed up their things and left by five. A half hour after they’d returned to their hotel, Jon came home.

Because the sun was still shining brightly and the garden smelled of lilacs, Maryellen had moved awkwardly outside to sit on the deck. She wanted to be in the fresh, clean air, enjoying the scents of spring. The deck afforded Katie a small play area, too, and Maryellen could keep an eye on her.

“Hey!” Jon said happily when he found the two of them outdoors. “How are my girls?” he asked, sweeping Katie into his arms.

Maryellen smiled as Katie wrapped her own arms around his neck and offered him a sloppy kiss. She chattered away, and Jon pretended to understand every word.

“She has a surprise for you in the kitchen,” Maryellen told him.

After hugging Maryellen and gently rubbing her belly, Jon went inside with Katie. “It’s brownies,” he called out. “My favorite.”

Soon he was back, holding the plate aloft. “You mean to tell me my girls baked me brownies?”

Katie was so proud to see her father enjoying what she’d made—with her grandmother’s notable assistance—that Maryellen let him assume she’d been in the kitchen herself. Jon broke off a corner and shared it with her. Katie poked it into her mouth and instantly wanted more.

“Greedy little girl, aren’t you?”