6 Rainier Drive. Debbie Macomber

by six.”

      “Yes, but…” But he hadn’t suggested anything after that, since he’d had his own plans. “We finished up around six and then met Bruce for dinner at the Pancake Palace.”

      Nate went quiet for a long moment. “You didn’t say anything about you and Brucie having dinner,” he muttered sarcastically.

      “Well, no,” she agreed, “that didn’t come up until later. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

      “Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I am. I haven’t seen you all week.”

      “I know, and I’ve missed you like crazy. This dinner thing didn’t mean anything, Nate. You know that. It was Bruce’s way of thanking me for taking Jolene shopping.”

      “Okay,” he said in a grudging voice.

      “Dinner meant nothing, I promise you.”

      “Okay,” he said again. “Look, I’ve got tomorrow afternoon free. Do you think you could squeeze me into your busy social calendar?”

      “I’ll see what I can do.”

      “Good.”

      They arranged to meet at the waterfront, and after a protracted good-night, Rachel replaced the receiver. She took a long shower, then got into an old flannel nightgown and sat in front of the television, hoping the ten o’clock news would have a story on the chess tournament. She half expected to see an item about a disruption, with Teri being hauled away by armed guards.

      As the news began, her mind wandered back to the dinner with Bruce. She felt that their relationship had subtly changed in the last few months. She wasn’t sure how it’d happened or what it meant. She hadn’t lied or misled Nate; dinner tonight wasn’t a romantic tryst. Far from it. Yet something seemed different. Rachel could only wonder why that was.

      When the news anchor spoke about the chess championship, she mentioned only a few of the details-the most prominent being that after his stunning first-match defeat, Bobby Polgar had taken the second match and then the third, winning the championship.

       Eight

      After pacing the hallway outside the sheriff’s office, Seth Gunderson sat restlessly on a nearby bench. Apparently Troy Davis had some news about the fire. Even after nearly a month, Seth had trouble adjusting to the reality of his and Justine’s loss. It felt as if he were in the middle of Leif’s toy kaleidoscope, the pieces of his life tossed about willy-nilly, forming random patterns that made no sense to him.

      Despite his best efforts, Seth discovered himself lashing out at those around him. He felt guilty about the way he’d behaved and was thankful for Justine’s patience, although they’d had a spat just that morning.

      Her comment a couple of weeks earlier that she might not want to rebuild had come as a shock. In his opinion, she wasn’t thinking clearly. He refused to let some unknown arsonist make his decisions for him. And the more his wife tried to convince him to consider options other than rebuilding, the more he shut her out. One thing was certain: Seth couldn’t sit around the house like this much longer. He was going stir-crazy, with nothing to do but fret and fume. Since Justine’s announcement, he hadn’t even found any pleasure in considering new designs for the restaurant.

      The office door opened, and Troy stepped into the hallway. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” the sheriff said, extending his hand.

      Seth stood and the two exchanged handshakes. Troy gestured toward his office, then went back inside and sat at his desk. Seth took the chair across from him.

      “I was on the phone with the fire marshal when you arrived,” Troy explained.

      Anxious to hear the latest update, Seth leaned forward. “So what’s the news?”

      Troy tipped his chair back and locked his fingers behind his head. “There’s one detail that might be significant, but I’ll get to that later. The inspector hired by the insurance company confirmed what we already knew—that the fire was purposely set. An accelerant was used, probably gasoline. It started near the kitchen, then spread to your office and quickly engulfed the main dining room.”

      “Suspects?”

      “As you know, I’ve interviewed the employees,” Troy told him, dropping his arms and picking up a folder on his desk. “Plus former employees,” he added.

      Seth frowned. “Tony Philpott?”

      Davis nodded slowly. “He’d recently been laid off, correct?”

      Seth pressed his hands against the side of his chair. “I was forced to lay off both Tony and Anson Butler because of the money missing from my office. Both had access and opportunity. Between you and me, I think Tony was the one who took it, but I can’t be sure. We never found it, and I don’t have any proof. It was an unfortunate situation, and I probably didn’t handle it as well as I should have.”

      Seth wished now that he’d dealt with the whole mess some other way. In retrospect he could understand Anson’s anger. Yet he did have a bad track record and despite the boy’s attempt to prove himself, Seth wasn’t entirely satisfied that he could trust him.

      “Philpott was out of town at the time of the arson,” Troy said. “His alibi checks out.”

      Seth released a sigh. He didn’t want to think Anson had anything to do with the fire, and yet what else was he to believe? The boy was already responsible for one arson in town, and The Lighthouse had gone up in flames right after he was laid off. All the pieces seemed to fall together, and for once the pattern made a horrible kind of sense.

      “Have you ever seen this?” Troy surprised him by asking. “It’s what I was referring to earlier.” He held out a photograph of a large pewter cross, then passed it to Seth.

      Seth studied the photo and shook his head. He couldn’t remember seeing it before, but that wasn’t saying much. He never paid much attention to jewelry.

      “Where did you find it?” The cross looked partially melted, so it must have been either in the fire or close to it.

      “The fire inspectors came across it in the rubble, near the office. It might mean nothing, but then again…” He shrugged. “At this point we just don’t know. I’ll keep you updated on anything we learn.”

      Seth stood up. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

      On his way out of the office, Seth checked his watch. Ten. The entire day stretched before him, about as empty as a discarded beer bottle. This past month was the first time since he’d bought the old Captain’s Galley restaurant and remodeled it that he’d had nothing to do.

      Before this, there weren’t enough hours in a day. His schedule was full; he’d constantly had meetings and plans and new ideas. His lack of purpose was killing him. Of course, he could go back home, but his relationship with Justine was strained. He loved his wife, but he didn’t understand her anymore. Right now, he needed breathing room, a place where he could collect his thoughts, try to figure out what came next.

      Seth had always done his best thinking on the water and it seemed natural to go down to the marina. He kept his sailboat moored there but couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken her out. The air was crisp and clean, and he breathed deeply as he strolled over to the waterfront. Sailboats and motorboats of various sizes were secured in their slips, bobbing gently, peacefully, in the dark-green waters.

      “Seth.”

      At the sound of his name, he turned to see his father walking toward him. Seth smiled. He’d always been close to his family. He and his father had once been partners in a fishing enterprise, which took them to Alaska for a number of months each year. The money was good, but the work was dangerous, and when Justine came into his life, Seth knew it was time to make a career change. His father’s help had been