92 Pacific Boulevard. Debbie Macomber

of her first marriage. But somehow, she’d foolishly come to believe she could control her body, her health, if she did the right things. That loss of control was difficult to accept, yet she had no choice.

      She was a woman who rigorously managed her environment—no clutter in her house. She realized she’d become more that way after Jordan’s death.

      She’d taken a leave from her position as a family court judge and was gearing up, both emotionally and physically, for the treatments scheduled during the next three months. She knew some people worked through their chemo, but everyone had urged her not to. “Give yourself a break,” Jack said, and so she had.

      The sound of a car door closing alerted Olivia to the fact that she had company. Glancing out the large kitchen window, she noticed that her visitor was none other than her mother. No surprise there.

      Olivia frowned slightly when she saw that Charlotte was alone. Since her mother had married Ben several years ago, they were practically always together. They’d returned from a Caribbean cruise on Christmas Day and her mother had been a daily visitor ever since.

      Knowing Charlotte preferred to park at the side of the house and use the back entrance, Olivia opened the door off the kitchen.

      Her mother smiled as she entered the house. “I hoped I’d catch you before you had a nap,” she said. She placed the basket on the table and quickly divested herself of purse and coat, hanging them on the hook by the door. Charlotte rarely stopped by without bringing some kind of treat, generally something homemade.

      “Mom,” Olivia joked, “I outgrew naps when I was four, remember?”

      “I know, dear,” Charlotte said, without taking offense, “but you need your rest, especially now.”

      “I slept in this morning.” Olivia’s normal routine had her out of bed at six and in the courthouse by eight-thirty.

      The sheer luxury of not setting the alarm each night could become habit-forming, she thought.

      “Slept in until what time?” Charlotte asked as she folded back the basket’s red-checkered cloth and brought out a tin of cookies and an orange Bundt cake that just happened to be one of Jack’s favorites.

      “Nearly eight.”

      Her mother looked over her shoulder and pretended to gasp. “My, that’s so late.”

      Olivia laughed. “Well, for me it is—and it was divine.”

      “Jack got ready for work on his own and didn’t wake you?”

      As a matter of fact, her husband had awakened her, but in the most romantic way. Jack had brought her a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Then he’d kissed her—repeatedly—before he’d left for the newspaper office. The memory of his kisses stirring her from a deep sleep filled her with a warm glow of happiness.

      “Would you like some tea, Mom?” Olivia asked. Usually she had coffee only in the morning and tea after that.

      “I’ll make it,” Charlotte said.

      “I’m not an invalid,” Olivia protested, although she knew it was pointless to argue. Without waiting for a reply, she pulled out a chair and sat down, watching as her mother bustled about the kitchen.

      Olivia tended to let Jack and her mother pamper her these days. There was so little either of them could do for her, and these small indulgences—coffee in bed, some home-baked goodies—made them feel better, too.

      “Where’s Ben?” she asked as her mother put water on to boil and added tea bags to the pot.

      “Home, in his lazy chair,” Charlotte said. “He’s feeling a bit under the weather.”

      “Did you make him some of your chicken noodle soup?” This was her mother’s surefire remedy for just about anything that ailed the people she loved.

      Charlotte nodded. “It’s simmering in the Crock-Pot at this very moment.” She took two teacups and saucers from the cupboard as she spoke. “Ben’s tired out from the cruise, and then, well, this whole business with David and the baby has really upset him.”

      On Christmas Eve, a young pregnant woman by the name of Mary Jo Wyse had arrived in Cedar Cove looking for David Rhodes, Ben’s youngest son. David was the father of her child, and he’d told the naive young woman a pack of lies. Aside from the more serious lies—like telling her he loved her and wanted the baby—he’d led Mary Jo to believe he’d be spending the holidays with Charlotte and Ben. David knew very well that his father and stepmother would be on a cruise; he’d obviously assumed that Mary Jo wouldn’t try to find him.

      What he hadn’t expected was that she’d actually come to town, let alone that she’d go into labor and give birth to her daughter here, in Cedar Cove. It turned out to be a miraculous night, one Olivia and her best friend, Grace Harding, would long remember.

      “Has Ben been in touch with David?” Olivia asked. The last she’d heard, no one had reached David to tell him Mary Jo had given birth to a daughter.

      Charlotte nodded just as the kettle started to whistle. She lifted it off the burner and filled the teapot, which she covered with a cozy and carried to the kitchen table. Next, she brought over the cups and saucers. All her movements were economical and precise, Olivia thought, testament to all those years of working in the kitchen, bringing comfort to others.

      “I’m afraid it wasn’t a pleasant conversation,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “Ben is dreadfully disappointed in his son.”

      Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time. Far from it.

      “David tried to deny that he even knew Mary Jo.”

      The weasel. The jerk! Attempting to squirm his way out of responsibility was typical, of course. Olivia’s first exposure to David had been when he’d attempted to swindle Charlotte out of several thousand dollars. Thankfully, Justine, Olivia’s daughter, had managed to thwart him.

      Charlotte released another deep sigh. “I’m afraid Ben and David argued. Ben didn’t say much afterward and I didn’t pressure him, but you can imagine how he feels.”

      “He got a beautiful granddaughter out of this mess, though,” Olivia reminded her mother.

      “Oh, yes, and he’s thrilled about Noelle. I know he’s already had his will revised.”

      “Have you heard from Mary Jo?” Olivia asked.

      “We’ve talked to her a couple of times this week. She sounds well, and the baby’s thriving.”

      “That’s good news.”

      “And her brothers are crazy about little Noelle.”

      The memory of Christmas Eve produced a smile as Olivia recalled the three Wyse brothers rushing to Grace and Cliff’s ranch in an effort to find their little sister. They’d fumbled and bumbled their way across the Puget Sound area and eventually arrived, just in time to see their newborn niece. Mary Jo had been staying in the apartment above Cliff’s barn at the ranch, where she’d gone into labor.

      “When we spoke yesterday, Mary Jo said Mack McAfee had stopped by to see the baby,” Charlotte told her.

      “He went over to Seattle, then?” The young firefighter had been with Mary Jo during much of her labor and had delivered the baby. It was his first birth. Olivia could clearly recall how excited he’d been. Mack’s face had shone with such joy, you’d almost think he’d been the child’s father.

      “Yes, and Mary Jo said he brought Noelle another stuffed animal.” Charlotte removed the cozy and picked up the pot, pouring them each a cup of steaming green tea. Shaking her head in amusement, she looked up at Olivia. “Between Mack and Mary Jo’s brothers, that baby has enough toys to last her whole childhood.”

      “That’s so nice,” Olivia said, reaching for her cup.

      “Did