To Christie’s horror, tears rained down her cheeks. Then, all at once, the lump in her throat eased and she could breathe again. And speak again.

“I don’t love you.” She pronounced each syllable emphatically.

“Liar.”

She was embarrassed that he could so easily see through her facade. “I admit I did love you at one time, but not anymore,” she said.

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want.” Unwilling to become involved in a useless verbal exchange, she slipped inside her car and slammed the door. Blinded by tears, she started the engine and backed up without looking behind her. If James was stupid enough not to get out of her way, then it was his own fault if she ran over him.

Once she got home, it took her a full hour to stop shaking. She paced and chewed her fingernails, a habit she detested. Then she turned on the television and sat down to watch for about thirty seconds before she was on her feet again.

Sleep was impossible that night.

She was still working the early shift so she could attend her afternoon business class. The sky was dark when she walked out to the apartment parking lot the next morning. Her breath made small clouds in the chilly air, and she rubbed her bare hands together to chase away the cold.

She opened the car door—and when the interior light flashed on she saw another beautiful, long-stemmed red rose.

Christie closed her eyes in frustration. Then she grabbed the flower, threw it on the ground and stomped all over it.

Twenty

Grace had been planning this surprise for Olivia for almost two weeks. As soon as she’d mentioned it to Peggy Beldon, Peggy had called Corrie McAfee. Soon Faith was part of the scheme, too. Within a few days Charlotte had spread the word to a number of Olivia’s friends, and Grace had more volunteers than she could use. Olivia was loved by everyone who knew her.

All they needed was a day without drizzle. In the Pacific Northwest the month of March was notoriously—in a word—wet. Friday morning, however, Grace woke to clear skies and sunshine. After weeks of continual misty rain, this was a welcome change.

The television weatherman predicted sunshine for the rest of the day, with cloudy skies and rain to follow overnight. Grace figured a few hours of sunshine was enough to accomplish what she had in mind.

Reaching for the kitchen phone, she was about to punch in Peggy’s number when Cliff wandered into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of coffee. He’d already been in the barn to feed his horses. He never slept past seven; his horses’ schedule didn’t permit it.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Cliff said. He took a gulp of coffee, then set his mug down and slipped up behind her to nuzzle her neck.

“Cliff,” she chastised, laughing. “I have to call Peggy.” She breathed in deeply. He smelled of fresh hay and leather, and the combination struck her as immensely virile. These were the scents she associated with her husband.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” he reminded her as she made her call.

He had a point. “But I wasn’t on the phone then.”

“Good morning, Thyme and Tide,” Peggy said with her usual friendliness. She had a gift for making people feel appreciated, even over the phone.

“Meet me at Olivia’s at eleven,” Grace said, trying to ignore her husband’s roaming hands. “Can you…can you let Corrie know?”

“Sure thing,” Peggy told her. “I’ll meet you at Ace Hardware in an hour.”

“Great.” That was all Grace could manage with Cliff nibbling on her neck. She sighed with relief as she hung up the phone, then twisted around in her husband’s embrace. “You’re asking for trouble, Cliff Harding.”

“Uh-huh.” He kissed her soundly on the lips.

Grace loved his playfulness and responded in full measure.

After a few minutes, Cliff released her but his eyes were still closed. “You make me mighty glad I’m a married man.”

“Good. Now hold that thought until I get home later this afternoon.”

“Will do.”

Grace opened the refrigerator and took out a small container of yogurt. That, together with coffee, would constitute her breakfast.

“What’s up with you and Peggy?” he asked. He got the peanut-butter jar and dropped two slices of whole-wheat bread into the toaster.

“It’s for Olivia, remember?”

When he seemed uncertain, she explained. “A few of us are getting together and planting flowers in Olivia’s yard. It’s sort of a get-well-soon bouquet on a larger scale.”

“Yeah, I remember now. But isn’t it a bit early to be planting flowers?” he asked.

“Some varieties do well in this weather, and when April comes they’ll be in full bloom.”

His toast popped up and Cliff set both pieces on the counter, slathering them with a thick coating of peanut butter.

Grace opened the cupboard and pointedly handed him a plate.

He accepted it with a lopsided grin. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Leaning against the counter, Cliff took a bite of his breakfast while Grace retrieved a spoon from the cutlery drawer and sat at the table. Years ago, she’d read a diet book that said never to eat standing up. She’d followed that advice ever since.

“Back to Olivia,” Cliff continued. “She’s getting through this cancer ordeal, isn’t she?”

“I think so, but it’s really too soon to tell. I thought this would lift her spirits. She’s gone through a rough patch, and I figured she could use a bit of cheering up.” According to Jack, the second and third sessions of chemo had been harder on her than the first.

“Peggy and Corrie wanted to help,” Grace went on, “and then Faith joined in. Charlotte’s going to bring us all lunch.”

Cliff pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. “You’re a good friend, Grace.”

Grace dismissed his praise with a shake of her head. “Olivia’s my best friend. This is the very least I can do for her.”

“I’d be happy to help, too,” Cliff offered.

She smiled gratefully at his willingness to pitch in. “Thanks, honey, but I think we have it covered.”

“Okay, but let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“I will,” she promised, finishing her yogurt. She deposited the container in the garbage and started to leave when Cliff stopped her.

“I don’t suppose you let Jack in on this plan of yours?” he asked.

“Oh.” Actually, she hadn’t.

He grinned. “Go on. I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Thanks.”

By nine-thirty, Grace and her accomplices met at the local Ace Hardware next to the craft store. Peggy arrived in her pickup, with Corrie sitting in the front seat beside her. Faith had come in her own vehicle and Charlotte was waiting in the parking lot, along with Ben.

When Grace parked next to her friend’s truck, Peggy climbed down and hugged her. “Bob built four flower boxes for Olivia’s front porch.”

“What a sweetheart,” Grace said delightedly.

“Roy wanted to contribute, too,” Corrie said. “So he painted them. They’re white, and they really look nice—I know Olivia’s going to be pleased.”

“Wonderful!”

“Charlotte has so much food in the backseat, she could feed an entire navy fleet,” Ben told her.

“How can you say that, Ben Rhodes?” Charlotte muttered. “I just hope I brought enough. After all that physical labor, these girls are going to be hungry.”

Walking into the store, they each grabbed a cart. After they’d chosen their supplies and selected a variety of seedlings, they loaded everything into Peggy’s truck. Then they set off en masse.

The caravan got to Olivia’s home on Lighthouse Road just before ten-thirty. Jack met them on the front porch. “Hi, everyone!”

“I take it Cliff got hold of you?” Grace asked, hurrying up the walkway to meet him.

“This is a terrific idea.”

“Does Olivia know?”

“Not yet,” Jack said. “I thought I’d let you tell her.”

Grace ran up the porch steps. “How’s she doing today?”

Jack hesitated. “She had a rough night.”

Grace suspected Olivia had gone through a lot of those recently. When they’d spoken on the phone yesterday, Olivia had sounded tired. The last chemo had weakened her, left her exhausted.

“Anything I can do?” Grace asked.

Jack’s gaze held hers. “I think you’re already doing it.”

Grace walked past Jack and into the house. “Olivia,” she called out, her voice echoing through the living room. “Where are you?”

“Back here.” She heard Olivia’s thin, weak voice from down the hallway.

Grace found her in the back bedroom, where Olivia had set up a sewing machine. She’d decided to make a quilt for her oldest granddaughter; she’d been working on it for weeks, doing a little each day until she was too tired to continue. The project had given her purpose and helped take her mind off what she was enduring.

She sat at the sewing machine, pale and slumped. Grace struggled to hide her reaction. Olivia’s bald head glistened in the light and around her shoulders she wore a prayer shawl knit by one of the ladies from church.

“Did you tell me you were coming by?” Olivia asked in puzzlement, as if she must have forgotten. “For heaven’s sake, why are you dressed like that?” She gestured at Grace’s torn jeans and faded Mariners sweatshirt.

“Come outside and see for yourself.”

“See what?”

“I’d rather show than tell,” Grace persisted.

Olivia got slowly to her feet, correcting her balance as she did, then trailed Grace into the front room. The door was wide open.

“What’s going on out here?” Olivia asked.

“Come and see.” Grace ushered her out. On the front lawn, pitchforks and shovels in hand, stood Peggy, Corrie and Faith. They’d emptied the truck bed; boxes of annuals and perennials lay spread about the lawn.

“What’s everyone doing with all those flowers?” Olivia asked.

“You mean you can’t guess?”

Olivia looked at Grace for an explanation. “No.”

“We’re here to spruce up your yard and bring a bit of spring,” Grace said.

Olivia blinked rapidly, but couldn’t fend off the tears that filled her eyes.

“Coming through!” Jack said, carrying a huge box from the trunk of Charlotte and Ben’s car, Ben on his heels with an equally large carton. Both were packed with containers and covered bowls.

“Your mother provided lunch.”

Olivia seemed to have trouble speaking. “Oh…oh, my goodness,” she finally murmured. “Whose idea was this?”

“Who do you think?” Jack said, joining them on the porch. He slid one arm around Olivia’s thin shoulders and drew her close.

“Grace. Oh, Grace.” Olivia reached for her hand and squeezed tightly.