50 Harbor Street. Debbie Macomber

it clear that they were through. Devastated, Grace could do nothing but abide by his wishes.

      Then, last August, Lisa had flown out to spend time with her father. Grace would always be grateful to Cliff’s daughter for visiting her at the library, where Grace was employed. Lisa had assured Grace that Cliff still loved her and encouraged her not to give up.

      That was when Grace had begun a campaign to win back Cliff Harding. She mailed him cards, sent him e-mail messages and stopped by the ranch unannounced and uninvited. Little by little she’d worn him down to the point that he’d actually sought her out for the first time in more than a year.

      When she arrived home from work, Grace tried three different outfits before she was satisfied. She modeled each of her choices before Buttercup, her golden retriever, and Sherlock, her cat. Unfortunately their opinions were less than useful, although she had to laugh at Buttercup’s deep sigh. Sherlock didn’t bother to open his eyes. In the end she chose a blue denim jumper with big yellow daisies painted on the bib and a yellow turtleneck underneath. It was similar to what she’d been wearing the first day she met Cliff. This was a new beginning for them and she hoped her clothes relayed that message.

      By the time Grace drove out to Cliff’s ranch in Olalla, her nerves were frayed. She so badly wanted to be part of Cliff’s life. Somehow, she had to make him understand that she wasn’t like his ex-wife. For thirty-five years she’d remained faithful to Dan and, given the opportunity, she’d be faithful to him too. She wanted Cliff to know she’d learned her lesson and learned it well. Never again would she risk losing him. If only he was willing to give her another chance…

      There was no one about at the ranch as Grace pulled into the long drive, although another truck stood next to Cliff’s newly completed barn. Parking near the house, Grace hesitated, unsure where to go. When Cliff failed to answer the front door, she wandered toward the barn. Cal lived in an apartment above, and he might be able to tell her what was going on.

      She was halfway to the barn when Cliff came rushing out. He stopped abruptly, staring at her, his expression confused. He was a big man with a muscular build, easily six three in height. He wore a cowboy hat and boots and looked every bit the horseman he’d become since his retirement from Boeing.

      “Cliff?” she said in a tentative voice.

      “What day is it?” he asked.

      “Friday.”

      “Is this the Friday I invited you for dinner?”

      Her heart fell and she nodded. He’d forgotten. Still, she tried to smile as she said, “I’m afraid it is.”

      He was immediately apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I didn’t realize it was this Friday. As you can see, we’re having a problem here.”

      “What’s wrong?”

      Cliff shook his head grimly. “It’s Midnight. He’s got colic.”

      “Colic?” In Grace’s experience, that was an ailment babies came down with during their first few months. She remembered pacing the floor with Kelly, her youngest, as the infant screamed in unrelieved pain.

      “It’s life-threatening in horses,” Cliff explained. “The vet’s here and we’re doing everything we can to save him. If worse comes to worse, surgery might be necessary.” He removed his hat and wiped his forearm across his brow. “I’m sorry, Grace, we’ll have dinner another time.”

      “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, willing to push up her sleeves and help to whatever extent she could.

      “I was about to make a pot of coffee.”

      “I’ll do that and bring it out when it’s ready.”

      Cliff nodded. “Great. I’d appreciate that.”

      “Don’t give it a second thought.”

      Once inside the kitchen, Grace searched through several cupboards until she located the coffee grounds. While the coffee brewed, she brought out bread and made half a dozen sandwiches, using the ham and cheese slices she found in the refrigerator. She wasn’t sure how long this crisis had been in effect, but she guessed that Cliff, Cal and the vet could use something to eat.

      When everything was ready, Grace carried a tray with the coffeepot and a plate of sandwiches into the barn. Doc Newton was the first one to notice Grace’s presence. As she stood, she smiled her gratitude.

      “I’d love a cup of that coffee. With cream,” Vicki said.

      Setting down the tray, Grace filled a mug for her.

      Cliff, who was on his knees beside the stallion, barely glanced over his shoulder. A large tube came out of the horse’s mouth and to Grace’s uneducated eye, the animal appeared to be in bad shape. Cal was on the other side, gently stroking the black muzzle as he talked in low, soothing tones. Grace realized that for the first time since she’d met Cal, he wasn’t stuttering. Apparently he could communicate with horses better than humans.

      Grace poured Cliff a mug of hot coffee. He took it from her with a scant nod of acknowledgement. She offered some to Cal, but he shook his head.

      “It’s a waiting game now,” Doc Newman told Grace.

      “What are Midnight’s chances?”

      The vet shrugged. “Could go either way.”

      Grace knew that Cliff had a large financial investment in this stallion, but there was more to it. He loved that horse. He’d often talked about his dreams for the ranch, and it went without saying that Midnight was the very basis of Cliff’s future in ranching. She speculated that losing the stallion could set him back years. But it would be a personal loss as much as a financial one.

      Not knowing what else to do, Grace stepped into the background and waited. She didn’t feel she could just walk away. She might not be able to give him any real help, but she wanted Cliff to know she cared.

      After an hour she saw that she wasn’t contributing anything. No one wanted more food or coffee, so she returned to the house. It took her all of five minutes to clean up the kitchen. Bored, she turned on the television, flicking from channel to channel, not settling on any one program for more than a few minutes. Every half hour she went to the barn to see what was happening, but there seemed to be virtually no progress. As Doc Newman had said, it was a waiting game.

      At ten Grace fell asleep in front of the television, waking with a start at shortly after eleven. She looked outside and saw that Doc Newman’s truck was gone. When she hurried out to the barn again, Grace saw that nothing had changed. Cliff and Cal were still with Midnight; neither seemed to notice her. As quietly as she could, she slipped out of the barn and went back to the house to collect her things.

      Not wanting to interrupt Cliff, she climbed into her car and drove home, feeling depressed. She was worried about Midnight’s colic, of course, and extremely upset by Cliff’s attitude toward her. She wondered if he regretted the dinner invitation. Even if Midnight hadn’t taken sick, it wouldn’t have mattered. Cliff hadn’t even remembered this was the night she was coming to dinner. He’d made no preparations, nor had he shown the slightest interest in seeing her. If anything, he seemed happy to avoid her.

      Buttercup and Sherlock were waiting when she let herself into the house and their obvious pleasure at her return comforted Grace. She saw that the message light on her phone was blinking. After leaving her purse on the washing machine, she sat down at her small kitchen table to listen, pen in hand.

      A faint smile touched her lips at the sound of her best friend’s voice. Olivia wanted to hear all about Grace’s “hot” dinner date. “Phone when you get home. I don’t care how late it is.”

      Reluctantly Grace reached for the telephone. Olivia answered on the first ring.

      “Don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than sit by the phone?” Grace chided.

      “Jack’s still at the office.”