6 Rainier Drive

“W-would y-you go with m-me?”

“For the first visit, anyway—if that’s what you want.”

Leaning over, Cal kissed the top of her head. “Y-you g-got on Sheba.”

He was telling her that although she was apprehensive about riding, Linnette had climbed into the saddle-and that he was willing to take a risk, too. He would see a therapist about his speech impediment, despite his intense need to protect his own privacy.

“I owe my mother a big debt of thanks,” Linnette whispered more to herself than to Cal.

“Oh?”

“She paid a lot of money at that auction so I could meet you, and now that I have, I think she got the bargain of the century.” She grinned. “What I really mean is that I did.”

Seven

As Rachel Pendergast was putting a load of clean clothes in her dryer, the phone rang. She reached it just before the fifth ring, which was when her answering machine always came on.

She’d been waiting to hear from Nate all day and dove breathlessly for the receiver. “Hello.”

“Rachel?”

It was a young girl’s voice, instantly recognizable as that of nine-year-old Jolene Peyton. They’d been good friends for the last four years. Soon after widower Bruce Peyton had brought his young daughter into the salon for a haircut, Jolene had decided she wanted Rachel to be her new mother. At the time, it had created an embarrassing situation.

Bruce still grieved for his wife, who’d died in a car accident on her way to pick up Jolene from kindergarten. He’d been adamant about having no interest in any kind of romance—with anyone, Rachel included. She accepted him at his word and over the next few years, as Jolene and Rachel continued to meet, Bruce and Rachel had become friends. They occasionally went out to dinner, mostly to discuss Jolene, since Bruce often sought her advice. Because she’d lost her own mother when she was relatively young, Rachel identified with the child.

In other words, there was nothing romantic between her and Bruce. Rachel was seeing Nate Olsen, although the time they actually spent together was limited, since the navy’s demands came first.

“I need someone to take me shopping,” Jolene said in a small, uncertain voice. “Dad said I could buy an Easter dress.”

“I’d be happy to go with you,” Rachel assured the youngster.

“My dad wants to talk to you, all right?” The little girl’s voice was more cheerful now.

“Rachel,” Bruce said. “Would it be a bother?”

“Not at all.” The truth was, she could do with something new herself. “I’d love it.”

“When can you go?”

Since Easter was the following weekend, Rachel figured it would need to be soon. “How about this afternoon?” she suggested. She had a rare Saturday free, which she’d arranged on the off-chance that Nate would be available. But it was already midafternoon and she hadn’t heard from him, so she assumed he wouldn’t be calling.

“This afternoon is perfect,” Bruce said.

Rachel heard Jolene shout with glee in the background.

“I’ll bring her by in an hour if that works for you,” Bruce said.

“That would be great.”

They discussed a price range for the new outfit and after a few words of farewell, ended the call. Rachel always enjoyed her “girl-time” with Jolene. When she’d started fourth grade, Jolene had asked her to attend the school’s open house, and with Bruce’s blessing, Rachel had gone. Afterward Jolene had written her a lovely thank-you note, which Rachel treasured. She had a stack of artwork that Jolene had colored or drawn or constructed for her. These were things a little girl would normally give her mother, and Rachel felt honored to play that role—part-time surrogate mom—in Jolene’s life.

As Rachel finished brushing her hair, her phone rang again. Even before she answered, she had the sinking feeling it would be Nate.

It was.

“Are you free?” he asked.

“I will be later,” she told him. Nate was working on some major project aboard the aircraft carrier. Because of it, they hadn’t been together in more than a week.

“I thought you took the day off,” he complained.

“I did.” She didn’t mention how many favors she’d had to call in to arrange a free Saturday. “When I didn’t hear from you, I figured you were still hung up on this project.”

Nate groaned. “Can you cancel whatever you’ve got planned?”

Rachel refused to do that to Jolene. “No. It’s Jolene. I’m taking her shopping for an Easter dress.”

The line went silent. “All right,” he said reluctantly, his disappointment obvious. “I would’ve phoned sooner if I’d had the chance.”

“I know.” Rachel was disappointed, too. “What about later?”

“What time?”

“I’m not sure.” She wouldn’t know that until she got to the shopping mall. “Say six?”

“That’s too late,” he muttered. “I have a commitment this evening—a stag I have to go to. Dinner and, uh, entertainment. The whole deal.”

“Well…we’ll get together soon,” she assured him. It was the best she could offer.

“Soon,” Nate agreed with a sigh.

They spoke until the doorbell rang. Assuming it was Bruce and Jolene, Rachel ended the conversation with Nate and opened the door to discover Teri Miller waiting there. “Turn on your television,” Teri insisted, storming into the small rental house.

“My television?” Rachel said. “What for?”

“Remember when we were over at Maryellen’s last week?” Teri moved toward the television and reached for the remote. Not giving Rachel a chance to respond, she turned on the set and flipped though channels until she found the one she wanted.

Rachel stared at the screen, unable to figure out the program, which seemed to be some sort of…sporting event? She quickly surmised that it had nothing to do with sports. A group of mostly men were gathered around game boards, and everyone seemed intent and deadly serious.

“They’re playing chess,” Rachel said. She couldn’t imagine why this was important to her friend.

“It’s one of the biggest chess tournaments in the world, and they’re in Seattle.”

“Seattle,” Rachel repeated. “Right. I remember. We heard the announcement at Maryellen’s.”

“Bobby Polgar is playing,” Teri said excitedly, standing transfixed in front of the television. She pointed at a man bent over the board just as the camera closed in on the slouching figure.

“Who?” The name was vaguely familiar but Rachel didn’t care about chess. She knew the basics of the game, or had at one time, but that was it.

“Bobby Polgar is the top-ranked player in the United States,” Teri explained. Again Rachel wondered why this mattered to her friend. “He’s in a match with some guy whose name I can’t pronounce. From Ukraine.”

“And this interests you?” Rachel asked.

“Yes. At least, Bobby does. I think he’s kind of cute.” She shrugged dramatically. “I know why Bobby’s losing this match.”

“You do?” She sent Teri a puzzled frown. “I don’t get this, so give me a hand here,” Rachel said. “As I recall, you know next to nothing about chess.” She remembered that Teri thought chess was a lot like checkers, which of course, it wasn’t.

“I have no idea how to play,” Teri said. She glanced at her watch and immediately became agitated. “But that’s beside the point. Listen, I’ve got a ferry to catch. I’m going to Seattle to help Bobby.”

Rachel stared at her. Life-of-the-party Teri was going to “help” a chess grand master? Someone she’d only seen on television? Someone who was expert at a game she didn’t know the first thing about? “Teri, are you all right?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course I’m all right. This is a mission of mercy. By the way, can I borrow twenty bucks?”

“I’ll get my purse.” They often helped each other out when one was short of cash. Rachel retrieved her wallet and took out the money. This was so unlike Teri. She knew her friend to be impetuous, but this was extreme.

“I realize you just have a few minutes, but start at the beginning. Just talk fast.”

Teri drew in a deep breath and spoke in a rush. “I was cutting that snooty college professor’s hair this morning. That Dr. Uptight.”

“Dr. Upright,” Rachel corrected.

“Whatever. The point is, the entire time I was cutting her hair she was on her cell phone getting updates on the chess championship. She couldn’t believe Bobby Polgar was behind. I was curious, so after I finished her haircut, I turned on the TV at the salon and I saw him playing his first match, the one he lost.” Teri said all this apparently without taking a breath.

“And?” Rachel urged.

“And he needs a haircut.”

“Bobby Polgar needs a haircut?” What did that have to do with anything?

“Yes, he does,” Teri said. “He kept brushing his hair out of his eyes. His hair is distracting him. He’s long overdue for a cut and I decided to do something about it. I’m going to the tournament and I’m going to offer to cut his hair.”

Rachel could list at least a dozen obstacles her friend was likely to encounter before she got to Bobby Polgar, if she ever did. However, Teri wasn’t easily dissuaded once she’d made up her mind.

“I’m doing this for my country,” she announced with melodramatic flair.

“Good for you.” Grinning, Rachel patted her on the shoulder. “Let me know what happens, okay?”

“I will,” Teri promised, practically running out the door to her car.

No sooner had Teri left than Bruce and Jolene arrived. Rachel was still waving Teri off when the nine-year-old dashed up the sidewalk toward her, hugging Rachel around the waist. Bruce followed at a much slower pace. “What time should I pick her up?” he asked.

“I’ll drop her off at home,” Rachel told him. He didn’t live far out of her way and it wasn’t as if she had other plans.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Bruce said. “Why don’t I meet you somewhere and the three of us can have dinner together?”

“Can we, Rachel?” Jolene asked, pigtails bouncing as she leaped up and down. “Can we? Can we?”

“That sounds like fun.”

Three hours later, Rachel and Jolene pulled into the parking lot at the Pancake Palace, where they’d agreed to meet for dinner. The food was cheap and plentiful, and this was Jolene’s favorite place in Cedar Cove to dine. She liked to dip her French fries in her cream-topped hot chocolate, a culinary activity that made Rachel wince.

Bruce was waiting for them in a booth near the front. The moment they walked in the door, he gestured to them. Jolene ran to his side as if it’d been weeks since she’d last seen her father. Rachel joined them a few seconds later.

“How’d it go?” Bruce asked, sliding over so his daughter could slip in beside him.

Rachel hid a smile when Jolene chose to sit beside her, instead.

“Daddy, we had so much fun. Shopping is great! We bought me a pink dress on sale, so we had money left over for tights and a purse.”

“Men don’t generally appreciate fifty-percent-off sales unless it involves hardware,” Rachel told the little girl. She reached for the menu and scanned it, deciding on a ham-and-cheese omelet.

The waitress came for their order and disappeared with quiet efficiency. Jolene chattered for a while, then selected a crayon from the juice glass filled with them and started to color the paper place mat, which had a connect-the-dots outline of a bunny.

Rachel and Bruce picked up the conversation. They always seemed to have plenty to talk about, although she saw Bruce infrequently. Over the years they’d become comfortable with each other. They’d shared a kiss now and then, but they had no romantic illusions. In any case, Bruce still loved his wife, and Rachel was seeing Nate. In fact, Bruce was someone she’d confided in when she’d first learned Nate’s father was a U.S. congressman.

“I didn’t think you ever had a free Saturday night,” Bruce said in an offhand way. “Don’t you and Nate usually go out?”

“I wish. The navy comes first, and he’s working on some hush-hush project that’s kept him tied up for a few weeks now.” She didn’t point out that although they did manage to talk every day, it was almost always late at night when they were both exhausted.

She and Bruce lingered over coffee, while Jolene had a second hot chocolate. It was after eight by the time Rachel returned home. She’d enjoyed dinner as much as she had the shopping—which had netted her two new sweaters. Afterward, they’d all gone down to the Cedar Cove waterfront for a walk and an ice-cream cone. She’d described her odd meeting with Teri, and Bruce had laughed.

“If anyone can get past security to see Bobby Polgar, it’ll be Teri,” Bruce said.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Bruce nodded confidently. “She isn’t one to let a little thing like security guards or TV cameras stop her.”

Rachel suspected he was right. If anyone could talk her way into meeting the top-ranked American chess champion, it’d be Teri.

She’d just unlocked her front door when the phone rang. Running to answer it, she threw down her shopping bags. As she’d hoped, it was Nate.

He told her he was calling from the stag, and she could hear shouts and laughter in the background. He didn’t seem to be enjoying himself.

“Where were you?” he demanded, sounding tired and argumentative.

“I told you I took Jolene shopping.”

“Until after eight? You said you’d be back by six.”

“Yes, but…” But he hadn’t suggested anything after that, since he’d had his own plans. “We finished up around six and then met Bruce for dinner at the Pancake Palace.”

Nate went quiet for a long moment. “You didn’t say anything about you and Brucie having dinner,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Well, no,” she agreed, “that didn’t come up until later. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, “I am. I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I know, and I’ve missed you like crazy. This dinner thing didn’t mean anything, Nate. You know that. It was Bruce’s way of thanking me for taking Jolene shopping.”

“Okay,” he said in a grudging voice.

“Dinner meant nothing, I promise you.”

“Okay,” he said again. “Look, I’ve got tomorrow afternoon free. Do you think you could squeeze me into your busy social calendar?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good.”

They arranged to meet at the waterfront, and after a protracted good-night, Rachel replaced the receiver. She took a long shower, then got into an old flannel nightgown and sat in front of the television, hoping the ten o’clock news would have a story on the chess tournament. She half expected to see an item about a disruption, with Teri being hauled away by armed guards.

As the news began, her mind wandered back to the dinner with Bruce. She felt that their relationship had subtly changed in the last few months. She wasn’t sure how it’d happened or what it meant. She hadn’t lied or misled Nate; dinner tonight wasn’t a romantic tryst. Far from it. Yet something seemed different. Rachel could only wonder why that was.

When the news anchor spoke about the chess championship, she mentioned only a few of the details-the most prominent being that after his stunning first-match defeat, Bobby Polgar had taken the second match and then the third, winning the championship.

Eight

After pacing the hallway outside the sheriff’s office, Seth Gunderson sat restlessly on a nearby bench. Apparently Troy Davis had some news about the fire. Even after nearly a month, Seth had trouble adjusting to the reality of his and Justine’s loss. It felt as if he were in the middle of Leif’s toy kaleidoscope, the pieces of his life tossed about willy-nilly, forming random patterns that made no sense to him.

Despite his best efforts, Seth discovered himself lashing out at those around him. He felt guilty about the way he’d behaved and was thankful for Justine’s patience, although they’d had a spat just that morning.

Her comment a couple of weeks earlier that she might not want to rebuild had come as a shock. In his opinion, she wasn’t thinking clearly. He refused to let some unknown arsonist make his decisions for him. And the more his wife tried to convince him to consider options other than rebuilding, the more he shut her out. One thing was certain: Seth couldn’t sit around the house like this much longer. He was going stir-crazy, with nothing to do but fret and fume. Since Justine’s announcement, he hadn’t even found any pleasure in considering new designs for the restaurant.

The office door opened, and Troy stepped into the hallway. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” the sheriff said, extending his hand.

Seth stood and the two exchanged handshakes. Troy gestured toward his office, then went back inside and sat at his desk. Seth took the chair across from him.

“I was on the phone with the fire marshal when you arrived,” Troy explained.

Anxious to hear the latest update, Seth leaned forward. “So what’s the news?”

Troy tipped his chair back and locked his fingers behind his head. “There’s one detail that might be significant, but I’ll get to that later. The inspector hired by the insurance company confirmed what we already knew—that the fire was purposely set. An accelerant was used, probably gasoline. It started near the kitchen, then spread to your office and quickly engulfed the main dining room.”

“Suspects?”

“As you know, I’ve interviewed the employees,” Troy told him, dropping his arms and picking up a folder on his desk. “Plus former employees,” he added.

Seth frowned. “Tony Philpott?”

Davis nodded slowly. “He’d recently been laid off, correct?”

Seth pressed his hands against the side of his chair. “I was forced to lay off both Tony and Anson Butler because of the money missing from my office. Both had access and opportunity. Between you and me, I think Tony was the one who took it, but I can’t be sure. We never found it, and I don’t have any proof. It was an unfortunate situation, and I probably didn’t handle it as well as I should have.”

Seth wished now that he’d dealt with the whole mess some other way. In retrospect he could understand Anson’s anger. Yet he did have a bad track record and despite the boy’s attempt to prove himself, Seth wasn’t entirely satisfied that he could trust him.

“Philpott was out of town at the time of the arson,” Troy said. “His alibi checks out.”

Seth released a sigh. He didn’t want to think Anson had anything to do with the fire, and yet what else was he to believe? The boy was already responsible for one arson in town, and The Lighthouse had gone up in flames right after he was laid off. All the pieces seemed to fall together, and for once the pattern made a horrible kind of sense.

“Have you ever seen this?” Troy surprised him by asking. “It’s what I was referring to earlier.” He held out a photograph of a large pewter cross, then passed it to Seth.

Seth studied the photo and shook his head. He couldn’t remember seeing it before, but that wasn’t saying much. He never paid much attention to jewelry.

“Where did you find it?” The cross looked partially melted, so it must have been either in the fire or close to it.

“The fire inspectors came across it in the rubble, near the office. It might mean nothing, but then again…” He shrugged. “At this point we just don’t know. I’ll keep you updated on anything we learn.”

Seth stood up. “Thank you, Sheriff. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

On his way out of the office, Seth checked his watch. Ten. The entire day stretched before him, about as empty as a discarded beer bottle. This past month was the first time since he’d bought the old Captain’s Galley restaurant and remodeled it that he’d had nothing to do.

Before this, there weren’t enough hours in a day. His schedule was full; he’d constantly had meetings and plans and new ideas. His lack of purpose was killing him. Of course, he could go back home, but his relationship with Justine was strained. He loved his wife, but he didn’t understand her anymore. Right now, he needed breathing room, a place where he could collect his thoughts, try to figure out what came next.

Seth had always done his best thinking on the water and it seemed natural to go down to the marina. He kept his sailboat moored there but couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken her out. The air was crisp and clean, and he breathed deeply as he strolled over to the waterfront. Sailboats and motorboats of various sizes were secured in their slips, bobbing gently, peacefully, in the dark-green waters.

“Seth.”

At the sound of his name, he turned to see his father walking toward him. Seth smiled. He’d always been close to his family. He and his father had once been partners in a fishing enterprise, which took them to Alaska for a number of months each year. The money was good, but the work was dangerous, and when Justine came into his life, Seth knew it was time to make a career change. His father’s help had been instrumental in starting the restaurant.

“You spoke with the sheriff?” Leif Gunderson asked when he joined him.

Seth nodded. He hadn’t mentioned this to his father, which meant Leif had been talking to Justine. “There’s nothing new to report about how the fire was set—we already know that—or by whom. The inspector found a pewter cross in the ashes. That’s the biggest news. But I have no idea who it belongs to and we can’t be sure it’s even connected to the arsonist.”

Leif frowned, as if pondering this latest bit of information. They sat on a park bench outside the marina. “How are things at home?” his father asked.

Seth figured his wife had given him an earful. Then again, it wasn’t like Justine to share their personal problems with others. “What makes you ask?” Seth murmured. He reached down and picked up a pebble and threw it into the water.

His father picked one up, too, and tossed it toward the cove. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that you looked like you wanted to talk.”

All at once Seth realized he did need to confide in someone. Someone who knew him well, yet could maintain a perspective on the whole situation and everyone involved. Someone whose advice he trusted. Who else but his father? Sighing deeply, Seth braced his elbows on his knees. “Justine and I had an argument this morning. It wasn’t over anything important. We’re both on edge these days with the fire and all.”

His father didn’t respond for a moment. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“The problem is, I don’t know what to do with myself these days. I wanted to start rebuilding as soon as possible. Then, a couple of weeks ago, Justine dropped this bombshell about not being sure rebuilding was such a good idea. She seems to believe we should just forget about the restaurant.” Seth lowered his voice.

He sucked in his breath and waited for his father’s reaction. He assumed Leif would react the same way he had—with shock and disbelief. The fact that he didn’t immediately say anything surprised him. “So, what do you think?” Seth pressed.

His father leaned back, closing his eyes. “Did she give you a reason?”

Seth had been too shocked to take in much of what Justine had said. At the time, he’d figured it was simply her way of dealing with the aftermath of the fire. “My wife is talking nonsense,” he said. “We need the restaurant. It’s how we make our living. Okay, she’s right—I do put in a lot of hours and the work is demanding. The profit margin isn’t exactly what we’d hoped, but we were doing pretty well.”

He looked at his father, but Leif still didn’t give any indication of what he was thinking.

“It’s total nonsense,” Seth insisted a second time. “Of course we should rebuild!”

“What do you plan to do while you’re waiting for everything to come together?” his father asked instead.

If Seth had the answer to that, he wouldn’t be hanging around the marina. “I don’t know.” This gave the matter of rebuilding top priority in his mind. Filling his days with the reconstruction project would ease his depression. Seth had been raised with a strong work ethic; he’d worked summers and after school from the time he was thirteen. He didn’t know what to do with himself when he wasn’t working. Outside of his role as a husband and father, his identity, his sense of who he was, came from what he did. Without work, he had no purpose.