Debbie Macomber - 74 Seaside Avenue

They chatted for another few minutes and then there didn’t seem to be anything more to say. Troy searched for something to keep Faith on the line. All he knew was that he didn’t want to break the connection for fear it would be half a lifetime before they spoke again. If ever … “How often do you get to Cedar Cove these days?”

“Not a lot. But Scottie’s been encouraging me to move back to town and I’m considering it.” She paused. “Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, “that we could get together the next time you do.”

“Okay,” she said immediately.

“We could have coffee and pie at the Pancake Palace.” They used to go there on dates, only it’d been a soda and fries.

“Not Coke and French fries?”

“You remember that, too?” he asked.

“Of course I do. We always shared both. I liked more salt than you did.”

“Do you know when you’ll be in town?” he pressed. “I could come next Saturday,” she said, “if that’s convenient.”

It was convenient. In fact, it couldn’t have been better.

This was the last day of Anson Butler’s two-week leave from army training. In the morning he’d be flying to the east coast for advanced study in computer technology, working with army intelligence. Allison Cox was proud of him, proud of his success and determination. And she dreaded not being able to see him for another eight weeks.

Her parents had been wonderful to him. Together, as a family, they were sending Anson off with a big barbecue dinner. Even Eddie, her annoying younger brother, had helped decorate the patio with streamers and balloons. All their friends from school would be there, even the ones who’d believed Anson had been responsible for the fire that burned down The Lighthouse restaurant. He’d forgiven them, and if Anson could, then so could she.

Allison had baked a cake that afternoon and was putting the finishing touches on it—smoothing out the chocolate frosting, adding candied flowers. After that, she’d go and pick up Anson at his mother’s place.

“You invited Mrs. Butler, didn’t you?” her mother asked.

Allison nodded, although she knew even before issuing the invitation that Cherry Butler would refuse. The truth was, she’d never been much of a mother. “Cherry said she’d think about it.” Allison would definitely prefer it if his mother decided not to come. Cherry’s presence would be uncomfortable and, especially if she drank, she was almost guaranteed to embarrass her son.

The kitchen door opened and her father came in from the garage. “Looks like there’s a party going on here,” he teased.

“How’d it go with Allan Harris?” her mother asked, referring to a local attorney who’d asked to meet with him, despite the fact that this was Sunday afternoon.

Allison’s parents exchanged a brief kiss.

Her father started to loosen his tie. “Martha Evans died last night.”

Her mother’s face went soft with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Rosie, she was more than ninety years old and ready to go.”

“You’re the executor of her estate?”

Zach nodded. “Allan asked me to notify Martha’s family, none of whom live in town. They’ll be making the funeral arrangements.”

Allison watched as her father sighed. “Martha’s lived on her own all these years. Pastor Flemming’s the one who found her body. He’d been going over there once or twice a week to check on her.”

“He’s a good man.”

Allison liked Pastor Flemming, too. Everyone did.

“Charlotte Rhodes has offered to organize the wake.”

“When will Martha’s family—”

Her mother didn’t get a chance to finish the question before Eddie shouted through the open sliding glass door. “Should I light the barbecue?”

“Not yet,” Zach answered. “I want to change clothes first.”

“Eddie!” Allison cried, irritated by her brother’s impatience. “I haven’t even gone to pick up Anson yet.”

“All right, all right. I was just trying to help.”

“We appreciate that, Eddie,” Rosie said, mixing chopped green pepper and tomatoes into the lettuce greens. She turned to Allison. “Perhaps you should drive to Anson’s now.”

“In a minute,” Allison said, arranging tiny silver pearls on the border of Anson’s cake.

“Be sure and let his mother know she’s welcome to join us.”

“I will,” Allison promised. With a last critical look at the cake, she collected her purse and the car keys and headed out the door.

Anson’s mother lived in a trailer court off Lighthouse Road. Allison remembered the first time she’d met Cherry Butler, who’d been if not hostile, certainly unwelcoming. Even she—his mother —had believed Anson was responsible for the fire.

Anson’s disappearance had been difficult for Allison. She hadn’t known where he was, whether he was safe, what he was doing. To learn that he’d enlisted in the army—well, that had come as a complete shock.

Allison pulled into the trailer park, following the dirt road to the last single-wide trailer at the back of the lot. When Anson didn’t step outside after a minute or so, she turned off the engine and climbed out.

Before she could walk up the three steps, the door opened and Cherry Butler stood in the entrance. She wore a short skirt and a skin-tight sweater. Her hair had been dyed coal-black. Leaning against the door jamb, she held a cigarette loosely in one hand and glared at Allison. Slowly she raised her cigarette to her crimson lips and inhaled.

“Anson’s not here,” she announced when she’d finished blowing the smoke upward.

“Oh.”

“Don’t look so worried.” Cherry seemed to enjoy her discomfort. “He’s with Shaw. He should be back any minute.”

Shaw was one of Anson’s best friends and her friend, too, and she realized that Anson would want some private time with his buddy before he left.

“He did it for you, you know.” Cherry puffed at her cigarette again. “I didn’t want my son in the military. He knows that. Some recruiter fed him a crock and he believed it. Now see what’s happened.”

“Anson told me he liked the military.”

“Sure he does. You’d like it, too, if you could hide away all safe and sound while the police are searching for you.”

Allison stared up at his mother and wished she knew what to say. A moment passed in awkward silence.

Then, gathering her courage, Allison resolved to speak her mind. “You’re Anson’s mother.” She took a step closer. “You should be proud of him, Mrs. Butler—”

“Didn’t I tell you the first time you came by that I ain’t never been a Mrs. Anybody?”

“Ms. Butler.” Allison tried again. “I meant what I said. Anson’s the only one in his basic training class who was selected for this specialized course. He’s smart and … and … I love him. You might think eighteen’s too young to understand about love, but I know what my heart feels.”

Cherry Butler exhaled a thin line of smoke. “Listen, Abby.”

“Allison!”

“Whatever. You just pine your little heart out for my son all you want. He’s leaving, and my guess is he’ll find some other girl soon enough. Men are like that, so do yourself a favor and forget about my son.”

“Forget Anson,” Allison repeated incredulously. “I could never do that.”

Cherry laughed. “Suit yourself. But take my word for it—he’ll break your heart. He’s no different from any other man. Look at me. I was such an idiot, I actually thought his father would marry me when I told him I was pregnant.” She paused to take another drag on her cigarette. “Couldn’t do it, though, ’cause he already had a wife.”