92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [54]
“It’s okay,” Troy said, rushing down the aisle, abandoning his cart. If he was lucky, he might still be able to catch up with Faith and apologize.
Luck was with him, and he saw her at the checkout stand. He waited outside until she’d finished paying for her groceries.
As soon as she stepped through the doors into the gloomy afternoon, he approached her. “I’d like to apologize, Faith.”
“What for?” she asked, moving past him.
Troy had seen that expression before and knew it wasn’t a good sign.
“I came at you like…like an angry bear.”
“Not at all,” she countered, walking purposefully toward the parking lot.
Troy followed her.
“You were right,” she said. “I was foolish to mention my plans to Megan. It was the coward’s way out and I was immediately sorry I’d done it.” Her pace clipped, she headed for her vehicle.
“You wanted me to know.” She’d admitted to using Megan to inform him of her plans. He couldn’t help feeling encouraged by that.
Perhaps Faith had done this, spoken to Megan, because she secretly—or not so secretly—hoped he’d talk her out of it. Maybe this was her way of telling him she’d prefer not to leave, that she wanted him back in her life. Instead, Troy had gone on the attack. He felt like kicking himself for being so insensitive.
“Like I said, it was wrong of me to tell Megan, knowing she’d pass the word along,” Faith said stiffly. “You see, I didn’t want to phone you directly, because I was trying to avoid unnecessary contact. The less we see of each other, the better. I’m sure you agree.”
Troy’s jaw tightened.
Faith opened the car door and shoved her shopping bags inside.
Not giving him a chance to respond, she climbed into the front seat and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life and she pulled out of her parking space before Troy could say another word.
Well, that was that.
His prospects with Faith couldn’t look any worse.
Chapter Sixteen
With property values lower than he’d ever seen them, Mack McAfee figured there was no better time to purchase a house. He’d been looking on and off for an investment ever since he’d moved to Cedar Cove. When the real estate agent had shown him the duplex on Evergreen Place, he’d made his decision.
A few years earlier, Mack had bought a home in north Seattle that was badly in need of repair. He’d managed to get it cheap and spent most weekends putting on a new roof, replacing the kitchen countertops, installing new carpeting and doing whatever else was needed to update the house. He’d put a lot of effort into the improvements, most of which he’d done himself. Over the years he’d picked up various skills doing odd jobs. When he’d finished the house, right down to the landscaping, he’d planned to move in, but someone had driven past one afternoon, stopped and made him an offer on the spot. A healthy six-figure profit had been sitting in the bank ever since, collecting interest.
The duplex was the perfect house to invest that money in. It was an older place, one story, with two doors on either side of a shared walkway. The building was in decent shape, but there was room for improvement. With a substantial down payment, he could live in one half and rent out the other. He put in an offer, which was accepted the next day. He’d just signed the papers and was driving home when his cell phone jingled, indicating that he had a text message.
He waited until he’d pulled into the apartment parking lot before checking his cell. When he saw Mary Jo’s name on call display, he reacted immediately, his heart speeding up with excitement. They communicated quite a bit, usually by texting. She sent him regular updates on baby Noelle, often including photographs. He was careful not to overdo it with Mary Jo, since she was still emotionally fragile after her experience with David Rhodes. He’d been tempted to send her flowers for Valentine’s Day, but felt that was too much, too soon. Mack was willing to bide his time. He knew he wanted to pursue a relationship with Mary Jo; meanwhile, he enjoyed their “conversations” and occasional visits.
Today it wasn’t