Debbie Macomber - 6 Rainier Drive

Seth gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I…I do,” she countered. “At least I think I do. We went into this business with absolutely no knowledge of what we were letting ourselves in for. We were totally naive about what owning a restaurant takes out of you.”

According to statistics, eight out of ten new businesses fail, and restaurants headed the list. The only reason theirs had been successful was the sheer force of their combined efforts—and a degree of luck.

“We made a few mistakes,” Seth said, then added with a wry grin, “okay, we made a lot of mistakes in the beginning, but we learned quickly and we’ve come a long way.”

“We hardly spend any time together, as a family.” This was the one thing that distressed Justine the most.

Seth didn’t agree or disagree with her.

“You were at the restaurant all hours of the day and night, and so was I.” She supposed that now wasn’t a particularly opportune moment to broach her concerns, not while Seth was still so upset.

“I had to be there. You know that.”

“I’m not blaming you for any of this,” Justine told him, gazing into his intensely blue eyes. He was frowning at her and in him she read confusion and pain.

“Are you suggesting I haven’t been a good husband?” he asked.

“No! That isn’t what I meant at all. I love you and you love me. I could never doubt that.” Then, reluctantly, she said, “I’m afraid, Seth.”

“Afraid? Afraid of what?”

“I’m not sure. I had a panic attack last week. I didn’t know what it was at first. I felt like I wasn’t getting enough air and that I was going to pass out.”

Concern darkened his eyes. “When? Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“How could I? You’ve been so angry, so restless. I didn’t want to add to your worries.”

He slid his arms around her, drawing her close. “I’m sorry, my love. So sorry.”

“I am, too. About everything.”

He lifted his head. “What do you have to apologize for?”

“Because I don’t think I can go back to the way things were before, with you gone so many hours. With me at the restaurant virtually every day. I don’t want our son spending every night with babysitters. I don’t want to go back to the constant worries over money and meeting payroll. It was always something, wasn’t it?” Once she started listing her concerns, she couldn’t seem to stop. “This was never our plan, remember? I was going to do the books and fill in occasionally, but occasionally became every day. Leif is being raised by strangers and you have less and less time for us.”

Seth frowned at her. “You never said any of this before.”

“That’s because I hardly ever saw you, and when I did, we were usually talking about the restaurant. We wanted to have a second child and kept putting it off.”

“But—”

“We’ve had practically no time to be a family. It doesn’t make sense to have a second baby.” She stared at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“I doubt that.”

“You’re thinking that you aren’t about to let all this hard work go to waste. That you didn’t slave away for the last five years to end up with nothing more than a pile of rubble.”

He looked startled, as though her observation had surprised him.

“We both need to decide what’s really important,” she said, nearly choking on her words. “Is working thirteen- and fourteen-hour days worth what it’s doing to us, to our son and to our marriage?”

“Yes,” he stated without question. “You’re exaggerating, Justine. It isn’t all bad.”

“I agree, but for me, the bad outweighs the good. I’m no longer sure the sacrifice is worth it. I love you so much,” she whispered, bringing her hands to his face, blinking back tears. “I want my husband back—the man I married. The man who proved to me I could love and be loved. I want to find what we once shared and I’m so afraid it might be too late.”

Seth crushed her to him then and held her tight. She felt him shudder, and he didn’t speak for a moment.

“I had no idea you felt this way,” he finally said.

“I didn’t know it myself until the fire,” she admitted.

“What do you want?”

“That’s a mystery to me, too,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I guess I want us both to think long and hard before we decide whether or not to rebuild The Lighthouse.”

She could tell from his sudden tension that he’d prefer not to reconsider but to go ahead with his plans to rebuild. Justine swallowed, wondering if anything she’d said had gotten through to him.

“I’m not making any promises,” Seth told her.

“But we can talk?” she asked.

“All right,” her husband agreed. “We can talk.”

“With the Cedar Cove Chronicle folded to the classifieds, Cecilia read through the listing for rental houses one more time. Other navy couples had warned them that it was next to impossible to rent in a middle-class neighborhood without including the wife’s income. Cecilia and Ian didn’t want to do that. They’d never be able to save for a house if most of their monthly pay went into rent. They wanted a home of their own, especially now that they had Aaron.

“The house is at 204 Rosewood Lane,” Cecilia said as Ian drove. She turned to check on Aaron, who was sleeping peacefully in his carrier in the backseat.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Ian warned.

“It’s too late—they already are.” Cecilia so badly wanted this to work out. Her parents had divorced when she was young and from that time forward, Cecilia and her mother had lived in apartments. She’d always dreamed of one day having a home with a yard and a garden and a real neighborhood. Ian had grown up in a house, and living in one again didn’t mean nearly as much to him as it did her. He was willing to wait until they could afford their own.

She’d phoned about several possible places, and the one on Rosewood Lane was represented by an agent. Judy Flint, who worked for Cedar Cove Real Estate, was meeting them at the house.

He drove onto Rosewood Lane and Cecilia immediately liked the area. The street was lined with elm trees already in leaf and there were tulips and daffodils in front of almost every house. This was the kind of neighborhood where children rode their bicycles in the street, and the sidewalk was used for jump rope and other kid games. She saw a white picket fence and held her breath, hoping that 204 was the house number there.

It was.

“Oh, Ian, look!” she cried, breathless with excitement. “It’s perfect.” In fact, it was even better than she’d dreamed. It was a white, two-story house with a large dormer over the front porch. Although this was clearly an older home, that didn’t bother Cecilia and if anything, made its appeal stronger. She especially liked the wide porch and brick columns.

“It’s all right, I guess,” Ian said as he parked the car by the curb.

Cecilia playfully slapped his arm. “You like it, too.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Looks like a good family home.”

He’d hardly put the vehicle in park when she unfastened the seat belt and climbed out. Judy Flint, the agent, was waiting at the front door, and the owners were due to show up later, if warranted. It seemed a bit unusual, but they’d requested a meeting with any potential renters.

Ian extracted the baby carrier from the back seat and carried a napping Aaron onto the porch with him.

“Aren’t you adorable?” The agent smiled at the baby. “I see you’re right on time,” she told Ian and Cecilia in a friendly voice, still smiling at Aaron.