Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber

      “I don’t live my life based on other people’s opinions,” he said, his voice sharp with frustration and annoyance.

      “You’d be dishonoring Mom’s memory.” Megan was noticeably upset. “Good grief, Dad, it’s barely been two months! You don’t honestly mean—do you—that you’re going out on a date? That’s just … wrong.” Her eyes, so like Sandy’s, filled with horror.

      “No, of course not,” he said, his tone as soothing as he could make it.

      Megan immediately relaxed. She smiled again, unable to hide her relief. “Thank goodness. For a minute there, you had me worried.”

      Troy sighed. No point in asking his daughter’s opinion on the matter of seeing Faith. She’d made her feelings completely clear. As far as Megan was concerned, everything should remain exactly the way it was.

      “I stopped by to see if you’d come for dinner,” she announced.

      “When?”

      “I was going to suggest tonight, but I know you’ve already got plans—with your friend.” Her face revealed her distress. “I should’ve asked you sooner, but it never dawned on me that you might be doing something.” She bit her lip, then made an effort to pretend it wasn’t important. “That’s what I get for taking my dad for granted.”

      More than anything Troy hated to disappoint his daughter. “What are you having?” he forced himself to ask.

      “Steamed clams and fresh crab I picked up at the Farmer’s Market this afternoon. Craig’s got everything in a huge pot, along with freshly picked corn and new potatoes.”

      “What are you celebrating?”

      A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “You’ll have to wait and see. Is there any way you could make it?”

      Why, oh, why hadn’t he left the house ten minutes ago? Then he wouldn’t have been here and Megan wouldn’t have known anything about his plans.

      “Can you, Dad?” Her eyes shone with hope.

      “I’ll have to make a phone call first.” The words nearly stuck in his throat. If there was any alternative, he would’ve taken it. Yes, Megan was spoiled; he admitted that. He guessed it was natural enough, since she was an only child and cherished by both parents. In addition to that, he and Megan had been through so much together during Sandy’s illness. They’d grown close and solicitous of each other’s feelings. Although Megan obviously had her limits … “Oh, Dad.” Megan sniffed and her eyes were wet with tears. “I wanted to save it as a surprise, but I can’t.”

      “Save what?” he asked, trying to pretend that changing his dinner plans was no big thing.

      “My news,” she said. He could tell she was trying hard to keep her voice even.

      Troy didn’t know what to think.

      “I’m pregnant!” she cried, and then she allowed the tears to slip down her cheeks. “Craig and I are going to make you a grandpa.”

      It took Troy a moment to grasp this. “You’re going to have a baby?”

      She nodded enthusiastically and started to laugh again, still weeping. “I’m almost two months. Can you believe it? It must’ve happened shortly after Mom died, when I was so upset and … and missing her so much. Don’t you see, Dad?”

      Troy wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see.

      “This baby is Mom’s last gift to me.”

      “Your mother …”

      “She sent this baby to me because she knew how lonely I’d be. Mom knew a baby would help me face the future without her.”

      “Oh.” He was touched by how childlike she sounded—and a little worried, too.

      “You’re happy for us, aren’t you?” she asked, reaching out and touching his sleeve, silently imploring him.

      “Oh, sweetheart,” he said and gathered her in his arms. “I am. I’m thrilled for you. For all of us.” He paused. “Are you feeling all right?”

      She nodded. “I feel wonderful. Craig’s so excited. Me, too. At first I could hardly believe it. I’ve been on the pill ever since we got married. I just went off it a few months ago, and …”

      This was information he didn’t need to hear, the type of thing Megan should be discussing with her mother. But he’d been standing in for Sandy so long, it probably seemed natural for his daughter to share the intimate details of her marriage with him.

      “I stopped taking them when Mom got—when it became obvious we wouldn’t have her with us very much longer,” she elaborated. “I just forgot….”

      “I see.”

      “Now you can understand why I said this baby is Mom’s last gift to me.”

      Troy patted her back. The pregnancy was exciting news, and Sandy, had she lived, would’ve been over the moon at the prospect of being a grandmother.

      “What time do you want me at the house?” Troy asked.

      “Seven,” Megan said, breaking away from him. “I don’t think doing it tomorrow night is a good idea with the clams and the crab.”

      Troy agreed they shouldn’t delay. “I’ll call my friend.”

      “Thank you, Daddy.”

      Megan hadn’t called him Daddy in years. Generally it was Dad. “I’ll see you in an hour,” she said, hurrying toward the door.

      “I’ll be there,” he assured her. Then, remembering his manners, he asked. “Do you want me to bring anything?”

      “No … oh, Dad, please don’t let on that you know about the baby. Craig’s parents are coming, and I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

      “I wouldn’t dream of it.” So the in-laws would be there, too. Funny Megan hadn’t thought to mention that earlier. Not that it would’ve mattered. She had no reason to think he might have made other plans, since he rarely did anything outside of work. There hadn’t been room for anyone in his life except Sandy and of course Megan—until now.

      Troy watched Megan pull out of the driveway and head down the street before he walked over to the phone. Without needing to look up Faith’s number, he punched it in.

      “Hello.” She answered after the first ring, her voice cheerful.

      “Hi,” he said, bracing himself to tell her the unhappy news.

      “Troy! Don’t tell me you’re in the neighborhood already. Not that it’s a problem. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’m afraid I went overboard with dinner,” she said with a laugh. “I baked fresh rolls from a recipe that was my grandmother’s. I can’t remember the last time I used that recipe. Thanksgiving, I think.”

      “Faith …” All he could do was blurt out the truth. “Listen, I—”

      “Do you remember the chocolate cake I made before you left for basic training?” she asked, not letting him finish.

      “You baked a cake, too?”

      “Yes. I hardly ever bake these days. There doesn’t seem to be much point when it’s just me. I’d nearly forgotten how much I enjoy it.”

      He felt dreadful. “Faith,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment. “I can’t come.”

      The line went silent.

      “I’m sorry,” he added, “sorrier than I can say.”

      “Something came up?”

      He wasn’t sure how much to tell her. “Yes. Something … important.”

      She