50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [42]
“The Lighthouse?” Jon asked, joining them.
Cliff nodded. “They’re providing a full meal—and they’re going to deliver it, ready to go.” He checked his watch. “Anytime,” he added.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the doorbell rang. Cal went to answer it, and both Seth and Justine walked in, carrying their dinner. Seth held the aluminum foil roasting pan with the turkey and Justine had two large bags. They set their bounty on the kitchen counter.
“Need help?” Cal asked.
“There’s more in the car,” Justine said, throwing off the hood of her rainproof jacket.
“Let-t-t me.” Cal disappeared to collect the remaining food.
Justine slipped her arm around her husband’s waist. Seth was a big fisherman with a robust physique and hair so blond it was almost white. A few years ago, when the local fishing industry fell on troubled times, he’d taken his savings and Justine’s business sense and built The Lighthouse restaurant.
“This is our last stop,” Justine explained. “Seth and I decided to make this delivery ourselves so we could wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Where are you off to next?” Maryellen asked. “There’s enough here to feed an army. We’d love it if you joined us,” she suggested, looking to Cliff for confirmation.
“We certainly would,” Cliff said.
“Seth’s family is waiting for us,” Justine told them. “But thanks for the invite.” She smiled as Cal came in with another two bags. “And thanks, Cal, for getting those.”
Within minutes they were out the door and on their way.
Cliff and Cal set the table while Grace and Maryellen arranged the feast on platters and in serving bowls. Christmas music played softly in the background, coming from a Seattle radio station. The mood was festive and joyful as they gathered around the table.
Grace sat beside Cliff and across from Cal. When they all bowed their heads to say grace, Cliff reached for her hand as he whispered a simple heartfelt prayer. The sincerity of his words touched her. She had much to be thankful for. Three years ago, on her first Thanksgiving without Dan, she’d battled depression and loneliness as she and Maryellen struggled to make the best of a painful situation. Now her daughter was married, with a family of her own. And Grace had grown in ways she’d never expected. After a difficult time, she’d been able to accept Dan’s death, to find a measure of peace with it. She’d begun to reinvent her life—and Cliff had been part of that process.
There was a lot of joking and laughter as they served themselves, passing bowls and platters around the table. It felt, Grace thought, as if they were all part of the same family.
“I think we should each give thanks for one thing,” Maryellen suggested. “Let’s take a minute to do that.” She cast her eyes down at the pristine linen tablecloth. “I know I’m grateful for so much.”
“I am, too,” Cliff said. He took Grace’s hand again and smiled at her. “I’m most thankful that Grace is with me today. I’m hoping we can spend more time together in the weeks and months to come.”
Grace bit her lip to keep the emotion at bay. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Your turn, Mother.”
Still holding Cliff’s hand, Grace looked around the table. “I’m grateful for my family and friends and—” she paused, swallowing hard “—for this time with Cliff.” She’d thought the relationship was over and now hope had been revived. Hope that they’d be able to see past their mistakes and move toward a future together.
Seeming to understand, Cliff squeezed her hand. For a long moment, his eyes held hers.
“Your turn,” Jon said, gesturing toward Maryellen.
Maryellen waited until she had everyone’s attention. “Today I’m most grateful for the new life growing inside me.”
Shocked, Grace dropped her fork. “You’re pregnant?”
Maryellen’s eyes were glistening. “I found out last week. I can’t tell you how hard it was not to say anything until now.”
“Maryellen?” Jon whispered hoarsely. “You’re pregnant? But I thought…is it safe so soon?”
Grace knew he was referring to the fact that she’d so recently miscarried. Another pregnancy this close