Cedar Cove Collection. Debbie Macomber

between her and Cliff.

      “You knew he was in town?” Cliff demanded.

      Grace swallowed. “Olivia told me….”

      “He’s here to stay?”

      Grace nodded reluctantly. She hadn’t really meant to hide it from Cliff. But it’d become more difficult to tell him the longer she delayed. Considering his reaction now, she’d give anything to have told him the truth.

      “You didn’t think it was important to mention this?” he asked. His voice was calm, but Grace could feel the emotion behind his question. He felt hurt, angry, betrayed.

      At this point Grace feared that anything she said would only upset him further. “I probably should have.”

       “Probably?”

      “All right,” she agreed contritely, “I should have mentioned it—as soon as I found out. But, Cliff, I don’t—”

      He didn’t respond or even let her finish her remark. Holding the mug, he walked out of the kitchen. Shocked by his unaccustomed rudeness, Grace followed him to the door and watched as he crossed the yard and entered the barn. Her first inclination was to go after him. She pushed open the screen door, then hesitated. Cliff needed a few minutes alone, she thought, and so did she.

      The problem, of course, was Cliff’s marriage to Susan. His ex-wife had had a series of affairs, so trust was difficult for Cliff. Grace knew he wanted to believe in her fidelity but struggled with his experiences from the past.

      She realized then that she couldn’t let another second pass without setting things straight. There’d been rain the night before, but heedless of her shoes, she started across the yard just as Cliff walked out of the barn, leading his stallion Midnight. The horse was saddled, and Cliff obviously intended to go riding.

      “Can we talk?” she asked.

      “Later,” he said curtly as he swung into the saddle.

      “Cliff,” she said, gazing up at him. “Please. This is important.”

      He stared down at her. “I’ll feel better after I clear my head. We can talk then.”

      With a sick feeling in her stomach, she went back to the house. Sitting at the kitchen table again, she studied the guest list for the reception but couldn’t concentrate.

      She paced the house, transferred laundry from the washing machine to the dryer, then decided to bake an apple pie. She hoped that by showing him how much she loved him, he’d know he had nothing to fear.

      Two hours passed before he came back.

      When he kicked off his muddy boots by the kitchen door, the pie was cooling on the counter. He glanced at it and, to her surprise, seemed more perturbed than ever.

      “What’s that?” he asked, frowning.

      “What does it look like?” she asked in a teasing voice. “I baked you an apple pie.”

      “Why?” He maintained the distance between them.

      Grace stood with her back to the counter. “I—I wanted you to see how much I love you.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “Cliff, you’re overreacting! This is ridiculous.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “Did I ever tell you Susan used to do that?”

      “Do what?”

      “Whenever I learned about her current affair, she’d bake me a pie or make dinner, which was a rarity. That was her way of telling me she was sorry. She’d promise me it was the last time, swear up and down that I was the one she really loved.”

      Furious that Cliff had compared her to his first wife, Grace strode over to the counter, picked up the pie and without a word, dumped it in the garbage. “I was married to Dan for more than thirty years. Not once in all those years did I even consider being unfaithful. Not once. How dare you compare me to Susan. How dare you.” She choked back tears, glaring at him across the room.

      “You didn’t tell me about Will Jefferson,” he said accusingly.

      “That’s such a big sin? He doesn’t mean anything to me. Suggesting that I’d have anything to do with him is an insult.”

      He looked uncertain. “Have you spoken to him?”

      “No,” she snapped, then remembered the encounter in the library. “He came into the library.”

      “To see you?”

      “He said it was to sign up for a library card.”

      “And you believe that?”

      The phone rang and Cliff grabbed the receiver. After the initial greeting, he said, “Just a minute, please. It’s the real estate agent,” he muttered, bringing her the phone.

      She took it from him with a nod of thanks. “This is Grace Harding,” she said, astonished by how calm she managed to sound.

      “Hello, Grace, this is Judy Flint from the rental agency.”

      “Yes, Judy, what can I do for you?” All she wanted was to get off the phone and back to Cliff. This problem was too important to be deferred; if they didn’t settle it now, it would loom between them, growing more awkward all the time.

      “I have a party interested in renting your house on Rosewood Lane. They’ve given me a check for the first month’s rent.”

      “Wonderful.”

      “I’m just not sure about them….”

      “Why not?” Grace didn’t want to go another month making payments on a house that sat empty. She’d been forced to refinance in order to cover a debt of her dead husband’s. Before committing suicide, Dan had borrowed money from his cousin, which Grace felt honor-bound to repay.

      “The Smiths’ references are questionable and—”

      “Judy, this really isn’t a good time. Can we discuss it later?”

      “Well …”

      “They gave you a check, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then rent the house,” she said, decision made.

      “Grace, are you absolutely certain about this?”

      “Yes,” she said rashly, intent on resuming her conversation with Cliff.

      “Okay. I’ll tell the Smiths they can have the house.”

      “Thank you.” Grace prepared to hang up the phone. “Bye—”

      “You’ll need to come by and sign some paperwork.”

      “Yes, of course,” she said. “Thank you, Judy. Goodbye now.” Before the other woman could make small talk, Grace concluded the call and put back the receiver. Turning to Cliff, she braced herself.

      Cliff now stood on the other side of the kitchen. “You said you hadn’t spoken to Will, then you said he’d been in the library. So you saw him?”

      “Yes, and we did speak.”

      “You’re changing your story. Again.”

      Grace felt like groaning with frustration. “I’d forgotten about it, and then I remembered. I wanted you to know the whole truth.”

      “Which is?” Cliff crossed his arms. His body language couldn’t have been more obvious; he was protecting himself, warding off pain—or the threat of pain.

      “Exactly what I told you,” she told him, raising her voice. “Will invited me to lunch. He said it was so we could clear the air. I declined. I want nothing more to do with Will Jefferson and he knows it. Despite that, he’s trying to create doubt