1225 Christmas Tree Lane - Debbie Macomber [46]
“You don’t need to remind me,” Justine said, shaking her head at the memory. It’d been a difficult period in their marriage. They’d been working impossibly long hours with no time as a couple or a family.
The restaurant had been Seth’s dream. For nearly ten years he’d saved his money from fishing the crab-rich Alaskan waters. He’d lived on a sailboat in the marina while in town, and spent every waking moment studying restaurant management. He’d dreamed of one day opening an elegant seafood restaurant in Cedar Cove. Together they’d made his dream come true, and the Lighthouse had been the success he’d always planned.
But Seth had worked far too hard. Justine shared his dream, and they’d redoubled their efforts until it all became too much. By then Leif had been born, which meant Justine was torn between being with her son and working at the restaurant.
Their marriage had started to show the stress of too many demands and too few hours. For the first time Seth and Justine had been at odds.
Then, one night, the restaurant had burned down. All their dreams, all their hard work, their blood, sweat and tears, had gone up in smoke.
Even now, memories of that night were surreal. After being contacted by the authorities, they’d rushed to the scene and walked around in a stupor, shocked and bereft. It wasn’t long before the fire inspector declared it’d been arson.
Someone had purposely set their restaurant on fire. The police had what they called “a person of interest,” a high school kid who’d worked there briefly before Seth let him go. Anson Butler had a history of being in trouble and had started fires when he was younger. Someone had seen him inside the restaurant that night. Then Anson disappeared…. Meanwhile, Justine and Seth were left to pick up the charred remains of their life. The stress on their marriage brought them close to the breaking point.
It didn’t help that Warren took every opportunity to talk about how good things had been between them. Justine didn’t believe it, not for a minute; still, it was comforting to have someone pay her that kind of attention.
Not working and depressed, Seth had struggled emotionally. He’d given up fishing in Alaska, and she was grateful. She wanted her husband with her. Leif needed him. So did she.
It was during this time that she’d come up with the idea of building a tearoom and giving it the ambience of England’s Victorian era. The plans were already in motion when Seth was approached by a family friend who owned a boatyard and offered him a job in sales. Seth took it and turned out to be a natural.
Later, thanks to Sheriff Troy Davis, Warren Saget was arrested, tried and convicted of arson. Currently, he was serving time in prison.
Justine poked at the envelope with her finger. She expected to feel something. Some emotion. Regret. Anger. Something. Instead, she felt nothing. Only a sadness that Warren could have been this vindictive, this desperate. He’d never forgiven her for leaving him and he’d wanted to punish Seth for stealing away the one woman who understood him, understood his needs.
“Are you going to read it?” Seth asked.
“Do you want me to?”
He thought about it, then nodded.
Personally, Justine would be content to toss the letter. Yet a part of her wanted to know what Warren had to say. Taking a deep breath, she opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She read it, then crumpled it in one hand.
“What did he say?”
“Just that he’ll be up for parole in a few years and wondered if I’d be waiting for him when he’s released.”
“You’re joking!”
“The man is delusional,” she groaned. Even now, Warren seemed to be living in a dreamworld. He’d convinced himself that she was pining for him, anticipating his release. Needless to say, she had no interest in the man who’d done his best to ruin her and Seth’s lives.
Taking the letter, she threw it inside the recycling bin, among the unwanted flyers and empty cereal boxes.
Seth grinned, and she grinned in reply. “Merry Christmas, my dear husband.”
“Merry Christmas, my darling