311 Pelican Court - Debbie Macomber [50]
They were friends, Grace told herself, nothing more. Friends becoming reacquainted. That was all. Still, she’d admit that “talking” to Will had become downright addictive.
Most nights she rushed home from work and hurried to log on to the computer because she knew he’d be waiting for her. With the three-hour time difference, he’d already had dinner and was as eager to exchange messages with her as she was with him.
Grace hadn’t told anyone about these daily “chats” with Will. Her daughters wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know him and might put the wrong connotation on their friendship. Kelly and Maryellen worried about her, and they’d certainly disapprove of her having an online relationship, especially since Will was married. She thought about mentioning her “Internet friend” in a casual way, then changed her mind.
Nor had Grace said anything to Olivia. It wasn’t that she was hiding the truth from her best friend. It was more—well, Grace couldn’t really explain why she hadn’t said anything to Olivia. Probably because she suspected Olivia wouldn’t approve, any more than her own daughters would. Grace enjoyed talking to Will so much that she didn’t want to feel guilty about this one small pleasure. He seemed to enjoy chatting with her, too.
There was one other person Grace felt bad about not telling—Cliff Harding. She liked Cliff and owed him far more than she could ever repay. He’d been patient and kind during the long months after Dan’s disappearance. He’d entered her life at the bleakest hour and lent her strength and emotional support when she’d needed it most.
When Cliff’s marriage had fallen apart some years ago, he’d taken early retirement from Boeing and purchased acreage in the Olalla Valley, a few miles south of Cedar Cove. He’d been breeding horses and was beginning to make a name for himself. This was an occupation Grace knew nothing about, but Cliff was completely absorbed in what had once been a hobby.
Hurrying the cart down the aisle, Grace collected the remaining groceries she needed, went through the checkout and drove home. The instant she was in the door, she turned on her computer and raced around putting the perishables in the refrigerator while she waited to log on to the Internet. Buttercup followed her, and at one point Grace nearly tripped over the dog. She stopped long enough to scold her, then dumped some kibble in the golden retriever’s bowl and continued with her task.
The phone rang. Balancing a quart of milk in one hand and a carton of eggs in the other, she awkwardly reached for the receiver.
“Hello,” she said, using her shoulder to press the phone to her ear. She opened the refrigerator door and thrust both items inside.
“You’re home,” Cliff said.
“That’s stating the obvious,” she teased. They hadn’t spoken for a couple of weeks. He’d gone to California and must have returned sometime in the last few days.
“Don’t you ever check your phone messages?”
“No, sorry. I haven’t yet.” She’d been in such a rush that it hadn’t even occurred to her. “You’ve been trying to reach me?”
“For three days now, ever since I got home. I was tempted to stop at the library. I would have, if I could’ve squeezed an extra moment into the day.”
“I’ve been busy, too.”
“On the Internet again?”
“Yes,” she said, and quashed a pang of guilt. “It’s all your fault, you know.” Grace had Paul and Kelly’s old computer, which Cliff had set up for her.
“You could always e-mail me,” she suggested.
Cliff groaned. “I’ve created a monster.” He sounded good-natured about it, though.
“Like I said, this monster is one of your own making.”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered, chuckling. “Say, have you got plans for Thanksgiving?”
“Uh…” It was only a few weeks away, but she hadn’t given the holiday a thought. Last year she’d spent Thanksgiving with Maryellen and the two of them had been miserable. It had been her first without Dan. “Why do you ask?”
“I want you to join me.”
“But I thought you went to your daughter