92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [11]
The experience had been terrible for poor Grace. Fortunately, the renters had moved of their own accord—with a little help from Jack and Grace’s husband, Cliff, who’d come up with a rather inventive means of persuading the gang of deadbeats to vacate the house quickly.
“Oh, dear,” Charlotte murmured as she set aside her cup. “I forgot. Grace asked me not to tell you.”
“Why ever not?”
“She didn’t want you to worry.”
The one thing Olivia wished was that her family and friends would stop treating her as if she’d faint at the smallest hint of bad news.
“I’ll talk to Grace later, but first tell me about Faith.”
Her mother held her teacup in both hands. “Oh, she’s fine. The minute I heard about the break-in, I went over to help her clean up. So did Grace and Cliff, of course, and Corrie and Peggy and a bunch of others. The place was a mess.” Charlotte grimaced. “An awful mess.”
“How’s Faith handling all this?”
Her mother leaned against the back of her chair. “You know Faith. She’s a strong woman, but this break and enter rattled her. Thank goodness the vandal was gone by the time she got home.”
Olivia could easily guess how unsettling this must have been for Faith. “Was anything taken?” she asked.
“When I saw her, she wasn’t sure, and we were all so busy cleaning up the house it was hard to tell. I don’t think she’ll know until she has a chance to go through everything.”
“Who else came to help?” This was something Olivia loved about Cedar Cove. Neighbors were more than neighbors—they were friends who willingly pitched in when needed.
“Well, naturally, her son and his wife.”
“Of course.”
“Megan Bloomquist was there, too.”
“Troy’s daughter?”
“Yes. Faith and Megan have struck up quite a friendship.”
This was surprising. “What about the sheriff and Faith?”
Charlotte set her teacup in its saucer, her frown thoughtful. “That, unfortunately, is a delicate situation. I hear they’ve decided not to see each other anymore.”
“Really?” Olivia was sorry about that. She remembered that the two of them had dated in high school. Recently there’d been rumors that they’d reconnected, which seemed like such a satisfying idea. It saddened her to think that everything wasn’t going to fall neatly into place. But, as she very well knew, not every romance had a happy ending.
Both were silent for several seconds. “The locksmith showed up while I was there,” Charlotte said. “Troy suggested a dead-bolt system for the house, and Grace got it installed immediately.”
“Good.”
“Front and back doors, and the garage, as well.” Her mother grinned. “Lloyd said he’d defy anyone to get into that house again.”
Lloyd Copeland was the town’s locksmith and had twenty years’ experience. If he said the house was secure, then it was secure. The only way in would be through a window, but Olivia recalled that Grace had installed extrastrong glass in the downstairs panes.
“I’m glad,” Olivia said. “Faith needs the peace of mind.”
“Amen to that.” Charlotte finished her tea and stood to bring her cup to the sink. “Anything more I can do for you, Olivia?”
“I’m fine, Mom. Thanks for asking.”
“Has your brother been by lately?” Charlotte asked as she headed toward the door.
“Will phoned this morning.”
The immediate frown told Olivia that her mother wasn’t pleased. She expected Will to visit at least three times a week, to commiserate and hold her hand.
“Mom,” she protested. “Will’s busy. He’s working on getting the art gallery up and running, plus remodeling the living space.”
“That’s no excuse.”
Olivia didn’t bother to argue.
“You’ve seen him since Christmas though, right?”
“Of course.” Actually, Will had come over on Christmas Day, looking a bit depressed. He’d gone to Shirley Bliss’s home and—to his astonishment—she hadn’t been there. Her brother had a massive ego and assumed that the world revolved around his schedule. It had never occurred to him that Shirley, one of his artists and a widowed mother of two, would be anywhere but at home, waiting, longing, for a visit from him.