Treasure on Lilac Lane (Jewell Cove 2)

Jess put out a few wine bottles and glasses, and then a punch bowl for those who chose not to drink. Her mind automatically drifted to Rick like it seemed to quite frequently these days. She wondered how he was doing in his mother’s house all by himself. And then whether he’d be any trouble at the bachelor party tonight. For Tom’s sake, she hoped not. She was glad that tonight’s party was low-key—just a poker night for four at Josh’s house with pizza and beer. Maybe Rick would be sensible for once.

And maybe she should spend the time getting ready instead of thinking about Rick so much.

She mixed the punch in a large juice container and put it in the fridge—she’d add the soda when it was time to serve, and the berries she’d frozen, too. All around the room she’d put jars of her homemade candles, the scent she called “Wedding Cake” which was a yummy blend of almond, white cake, and vanilla scents. Each jar was tied with navy-and-white ribbons—Abby’s wedding colors—with a small silk sprig of lily of the valley. She’d made miniature jars, too, as favors for all the guests, and had popped into the flower shop for a bouquet to help dress up the apartment. Knowing Abby’s preference for warm fall colors, she brought home an enormous arrangement of miniature sunflowers, red gerbera daisies, orange circus roses, lilies, and wheat. She’d deliberately steered away from the paper streamers and wedding bells, though she’d be sure to keep the bows from the presents and make Abby one heck of a “bouquet.” Every bride deserved that sort of silly memento.

At seven twenty people began arriving. Jess poured the punch, uncorked wine, deposited presents on the glass-topped table, and put her scallops wrapped in bacon under the broiler. Cindy White arrived and brought tortilla chips with salsa and a huge bowl of fresh guacamole. Then came Gloria Henderson, church organist and head of the Historical Society, carrying her Tupperware container of ambrosia salad. Summer swept in, the tips of her hair dyed a new shade of pinkish red and carrying a tray of veggies and dip. Mary and Sarah arrived and added grapes and a variety of cheeses to the feast. Lisa Goodwin, who was one of the last babies to be born at Foster House when it was a home for unwed mothers, came in quietly, a bit shyer than the others. She put her present on the table and then asked Jess for a plate for her crackers and if she had room to heat up her crab dip a little.

The noise in the apartment was rising, ringing with laughter, as everyone filled Abby in on some of Tom’s more embarrassing moments growing up in Jewell Cove. Jess laughed as Sarah started in on the time Tom, Josh, and Rick decided to search for the fabled treasure out at Fiddler’s Rock. Jess had tried to tag along until Rick had implemented a no-girls rule.

Rick. Jess stiffened as the image of the man he was today popped into her head. She should be relaxed and enjoying herself, so why was it she couldn’t stop thinking about Rick and wondering what he was doing tonight? Was Rick laughing with the guys at these same memories? He hadn’t been by the shop for a few days. Why on earth did she keep wishing to spend time with him again? Like in the cab of his truck, maybe? Driving to nowhere in particular?

The thought didn’t sit well, so Jess busied herself in the kitchen. Someone had been gracious enough to take her scallops out of the oven when the timer went off; they were arranged on a shell-shaped platter and put with the other food along with the warm crab dip. Jess grabbed a plate since she’d missed dinner and filled it with goodies, then poured a cup of punch and took it to a stool by the breakfast nook. Abby came over and put her hand on Jess’s shoulder just as she was scooping some guacamole onto a curled chip.

“Jess, this looks lovely. The candles are gorgeous. Flowers, too. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It was my pleasure. I was young and living at home when Sarah got married. I never got the chance to throw her a shower; our mom did that. I’m more than happy to do it for you. So, this is your last week as a single woman. How does it feel?”

Abby’s smile blossomed. “Awesome.”

“Well, grab something to eat, and we’ll get some presents going before long.”

“Thank you, Jess. For everything.” Abby leaned over and kissed Jess’s cheek, the gesture so sweet and uncommon that Jess’s eyes misted over for just a moment. On impulse Jess reached out and took Abby’s hand. Their eyes met and Jess felt an odd, strange community with Abby. Like the other woman could see past her barriers.

“My great-grandmother would have liked you,” Abby said. The comment struck Jess as a bit strange, seeing as Abby had never met Edith Foster. “You’re stronger than you think, Jess.”

Before Jess could even react to the odd words, Abby dropped her hand and moved away to the kitchen table, where the buffet was spread. What did Abby know? Was it possible Josh had said something to Tom since her call the other night? It was the only explanation she could think of. On one hand the idea made her furious. It wasn’t Josh’s secret to tell. On the other … it was good to know she wasn’t alone if Mike did show up in town again.

You’re stronger than you think.

She certainly hoped so. Because the idea of facing Mike Greer alone scared her to death.

CHAPTER 6

On a cloudy Monday morning, Rick finally got up the nerve to go through the spare room closet.

He’d been thinking about it ever since closing the bank box lid over the photo albums. He hadn’t even known they were there … boys didn’t pay attention to that sort of thing growing up. Sure, he’d posed for a few sports photos but for the most part a mom with a camera was a nuisance.

Now he wasn’t sure if he was happy to still have the memories or not.

With a stainless steel mug filled with coffee, he dug the boxes out of the closet and sat on the bed, sipping and looking through pictures.

The ones on top were the most recent, but ended several years before, when he’d officially become a Marine. There he was, a few pounds lighter, tall, and in the best shape of his life in his uniform, standing with his arm around his mom. She looked so happy and proud, and it sent another pang of regret slicing through him that he hadn’t given her many reasons to be proud in the last while. He stared at the face looking back at him. It was so young, so energized … that young man had thought he was ready to face whatever the world would throw at him.

He missed that guy.

That guy—that boy—had been slowly worn down by the unrelenting monotony of sand and sun, by miles of roads littered with IEDs, by the bodies of the enemy, and worse, the bodies of comrades. The man he’d become had seen the ugliness of war and it had taken its toll.

Long, hot days, the isolation, the constant stress. And one ambush that changed everything.

He was so sick of people saying he was lucky it was only his hand. They had no idea what he’d lost over there. None. His friend. His self-respect.

He flipped backward through the photo album. Basic training, summers at home, his skin tanned and healthy, his arm strung around Josh after a day on the water. Graduation … Jess standing in the background with her family. In his baseball uniform and a team picture from high school at the state championships. He’d been a junior, Josh and Tom seniors. Looking like they had the world by the tail …

His coffee was long gone by the time he’d flipped through two more albums, each one going back in time to earlier years, complete with cowlicks and T-shirts sporting the logos of his favorite teams. At ten years old, standing on skates and a hockey stick in his hand. At six, riding a two-wheeler. His chest constricted as he saw a picture of his dad, smiling, standing behind the bike as if he’d just let go of the seat, pushing Rick to go forward on his own.

The preschool years, complete with curly hair and pudgy cheeks. First steps. First birthday. And the very first picture in the album.

The plain-painted walls and trim were rather utilitarian, like a hospital, though he couldn’t be quite sure. His mom, looking impossibly young and happy, a blue bundle in her arms, and his dad, standing behind her, a huge grin on his face. And someone else—a young-looking Marian Fos