311 Pelican Court. Debbie Macomber

in Arizona—but that didn’t appeal to me. He was planning to take care of me, but I don’t ever want to be a burden to my family.”

      “I know what you mean.” Charlotte had the same concerns. She sincerely doubted that Ben would ever be a burden to anyone. He was a proud, capable man, independent by nature.

      “How long have you been here?”

      “Over a year now.”

      That didn’t seem possible.

      Ben glanced at his watch and seemed surprised by the time. “My goodness, it’s almost nine-thirty.”

      “It can’t be!” Charlotte was sure he’d made a mistake. They’d come here shortly after eight, since the council meeting, which started at seven, had lasted only an hour.

      “You’re an easy woman to talk to, Charlotte.”

      She felt her heart flutter at his praise. “Thank you.” What she didn’t say was that Ben Rhodes was an easy man to listen to—an easy man to like.

      Four

      Rosie Cox hadn’t taught grade school in years. Sixteen years, to be exact. When Allison was born, Zach and Rosie had made the decision that she’d be a stay-at-home mother. For years she proudly wore her Every Mother Is A Working Mother pin. Her views about women’s role within the family had leaned toward the militant. A mother’s love and care, especially in the early stages of child development, was vital. At one time, Rosie had prided herself on being the world’s best mother, best wife and best housekeeper. Okay, the housekeeping part was a stretch, but as far as parenthood went, she read all the books, talked to the experts and attended the latest classes. She’d been determined to do everything right by her family.

      When Allison and Eddie were both in school, Rosie had briefly toyed with the idea of rejoining the workforce as a teacher. She had the credentials, the hours were ideal and she could have summers off with the kids. There hadn’t been any positions available, but she’d dipped her toe in the employment pool one autumn a few years back, when she’d worked as a cashier in a drugstore. That, however, hadn’t lasted long.

      When Eddie entered first grade, Rosie was already involved in a handful of volunteer jobs, which she thoroughly enjoyed. She wanted to contribute to the community and initially Zach had encouraged this. If she wanted to volunteer her services, then it was fine by him, since they’d learned to survive quite adequately on one income. Later, her husband had come to resent the hours she gave to these organizations and complained that she was gone far too many nights. In the end, it was apparent that Zach didn’t want her working, but didn’t approve of her volunteering, either. What he wanted, she realized bitterly, was an old-fashioned wife, subject to his needs and desires. A glorified housekeeper, and never mind the bedroom part because he was obviously getting that somewhere else.

      Volunteering had fulfilled her, but that was then and this was now. With the divorce final and the joint custody agreement in place—even if it was the most unusual one on record—Rosie had to find a way of supporting herself.

      Her options were limited. After a few refresher classes, which she took over the summer, she was hired by the school district as a substitute teacher. She’d been counting on that. She was in line for a full-time position once an opening became available. Being a substitute, fewer hours equaled less pay, and that worried her until she was assured she could have as many hours as she wanted.

      Sure enough, yesterday, the first day of school, she’d been called in to teach a second-grade class at Evergreen Elementary. This was Wednesday, day two of her new working life.

      By late afternoon, Rosie’s feet were throbbing and she could feel the beginnings of a migraine. Teaching wasn’t easy, but it was manageable, she told herself. Mrs. Gough, the regular teacher, had had her appendix out over the Labor Day weekend and would be out of the classroom for two to three weeks, depending on her rate of recovery. As a result, Rosie would have a steady income for much of September.

      It was almost five by the time she was ready to leave the school. Most, if not all, of the other teachers had gone for the day. The janitor was pushing a broom down the deserted hallway when she walked out of her classroom.

      “Good night,” she said as she strolled past him, struggling to smile.

      He acknowledged her with a nod and methodically continued his task.

      Climbing into her SUV, she mentally patted herself on the back. She’d been awarded the vehicle, a Ford Explorer, as part of the divorce settlement. Zach had to either give her the Explorer or buy her an equivalent replacement, since her own car was old and becoming unreliable. He chose to give up the car, but then she’d known he would.

      Both of them had sunk pretty low during the negotiations that led to their divorce settlement. Rosie had been unaware of how petty she could be, how…mean. She’d actually hated Zach for what he was doing to her and to their family, and she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. He appeared to feel the same way.

      Rosie turned onto Pelican Court and pulled into their driveway, heaving a giant sigh. It was good to be home. She was eager to talk to her children and learn how their days had gone. Allison attended Cedar Cove High School and Eddie was in fifth grade at Lincoln Elementary. Exhausted though she was, Rosie longed to hear about their classes. She might even order pizza, which would be a treat in these days of tight budgets. The three of them deserved something special.

      The garage door was closed and Rosie frowned when it opened and she saw Zach’s new vehicle parked in her spot. What was that about? Getting out of the car, she slammed the door. The last thing she wanted to do was deal with him, especially after the day she’d just had.

      She hesitated at the door, wondering if she should knock, then decided this was her house as much as his. Without bothering to announce her arrival, she barreled into the kitchen from the door off the garage.

      Sure enough, Zach was in her kitchen wearing a ridiculous-looking apron. Both kids were with him, which irritated her further. Eddie sat at the table doing his homework, and Allison was standing at the sink peeling potatoes. This was a sight she could hardly believe, especially since the kids seemed to be performing these tasks willingly.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

      “What do you mean?” Zach asked, glancing up. His smile faded and his eyes narrowed. His hands were buried wrist-deep in a blue ceramic bowl full of what looked like hamburger and cracker crumbs. Ah, now she understood. This was his pitiful attempt at meat loaf. A year ago they’d had a big fight over her not serving him a three-course meal every night when he came home from the office. He seemed to think she had nothing to do all day but hang around the house and watch soap operas and trashy talk shows.

      “Meat loaf?” she asked, making no effort to disguise her sneer.

      “It’s my night with the kids,” Zach said. His hands froze as he glared malevolently at her.

      The hell it was. “I don’t think so.” Rosie wasn’t backing down. It was bad enough having Zach in her house. She hated every minute of this switching back and forth. She’d memorized the schedule: she was with the children every Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and then Zach was at the house Thursday, Friday and Saturdays, plus holidays. She’d felt triumphant about getting that extra day, but she’d had to give up the major holidays for it. The trade-off didn’t seem fair, but it was the best deal Sharon Castor had been able to get her.

      “Monday was a holiday,” Zach reminded her.

      Crossing her arms, Rosie gave him a slow, sardonic smile. “So?”

      “Monday was Labor Day.”

      “Dad has the holidays, Mom. Remember? So he’s supposed to get an extra day this week.”

      Leave it to Allison to side with her father. Rosie frowned at her daughter. She’d asked her a thousand times to peel potatoes for dinner. In response Allison always gave her the beleaguered look of an overworked