6 Rainier Drive. Debbie Macomber

Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Chapter Thirty-Four

       Chapter Thirty-Five

       Chapter Thirty-Six

       Chapter Thirty-Seven

       Chapter Thirty-Eight

       Chapter Thirty-Nine

       Chapter Forty

       Chapter Forty-One

       Chapter Forty-Two

       Chapter Forty-Three

       Chapter Forty-Four

       Chapter Forty-Five

       Chapter Forty-Six

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       Copyright

       One

      Justine Gunderson woke suddenly from a deep sleep, with the vague sense that something was wrong. A moment later, she remembered, and an intense sadness pressed down upon her. Lying on her back, she stared up at the dark ceiling as the realization hit her yet again. The Lighthouse, the restaurant she and Seth had poured their lives into, was gone. Gone. It had burned to the ground a week ago, in a blazing fire that lit up the night sky for miles around Cedar Cove. A fire started by an unidentified arsonist.

      Without bothering to look, Justine knew her husband wasn’t in bed with her. Only a week had passed since the fire, but it felt like a month, a year, a lifetime. She didn’t think Seth had slept more than three or four hours at a stretch since that shocking phone call.

      Folding back the sheet, she climbed slowly out of bed. It was barely four, according to the digital readout on the clock radio. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the curtains, creating patterns on the bedroom walls. Justine slipped her arms into the sleeves of her robe and went in search of her husband.

      As she’d suspected, she found him in the living room, pacing. He moved ceaselessly, his angry strides taking him from the fireplace to the window and back. When he saw her, he continued to walk, looking away as though he couldn’t face her. She could tell he didn’t want her near him. She barely recognized this man her husband had become since news of the fire.

      “Can’t you sleep?” she asked, whispering for fear of waking their four-year-old son. Leif was a light sleeper and although he was too young to understand what had happened, the child intuitively knew his parents were upset.

      “I want to find out who did this and why.” Fists clenched, Seth turned on her as if she should be able to tell him.

      Tucking her long, straight hair behind her ears, Justine sank into the rocker in which she’d once nursed their son. “I do, too,” she told him. She’d never seen Seth this restless. Her strikingly blond husband was of Swedish extraction, a big man, nearly six-six, with broad shoulders to match. He’d been a commercial fisherman until soon after their marriage. That was when they’d decided to open the restaurant. The Lighthouse had been Seth’s dream, and with financial assistance from his parents, he’d invested everything—his skill, his emotions, their finances-in this venture. Justine had been at his side every step of the way.

      In the beginning, while Leif was an infant, she’d kept the books and handled the payroll. When their son grew old enough for preschool, she’d assumed a more active role, working as hostess and filling in where needed.

      “Who would do this?” he