The Ocean Between Us (29 page)

Grace drove onto the Washington State ferry at Clinton, which linked Whidbey to the mainland. Once she was parked, she made her way upstairs and ordered a latte in the onboard cafeteria.

“Grace! Hey, stranger,” called a voice.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Then she got a grip. “Hey, Stan. I hardly recognize you without that Jungle Love T-shirt you wear to fitness class.”

They slid into a Naugahyde booth and sipped their coffee. “You’re out bright and early,” Stan said.

Stan worked at the Boeing plant in Everett, commuting by ferry. He looked dapper in a well-tailored brown suit, carrying a locking briefcase.

She glanced down at her plain cardigan sweater and jeans. On the way home, she would not be wearing them. Her frump days were numbered. That had been her vow last night, one of many vows she made.

“How’s Shirley?” she asked.

“Couldn’t be better. She and our daughter are getting a little stressed out about the wedding, but I think they’re managing to have fun with it. So what are you up to, Grace?”

“A trip to the big city,” she said. Naturally, she couldn’t confess everything to Stan, but she could share a little of her plans. “It’s a girl thing. I’m going shopping and then to the Gene Juarez salon. Then I’m meeting…uh, a client for lunch.” Her stomach flopped over as she thought about it. But there was no turning back now. That was the thing about the ferry. It steamed forward at eighteen knots and wouldn’t stop until it got to the other side.

“That’s great,” he said, all friendly enthusiasm. “Fantastic to see your business growing. Shirley always meant to get a little something going. She’s a talented quilter, but never switched from being a hobbyist to a professional.”

“Do you think she might, now that your daughter’s getting married?”

“Nah. We talked about it, but Shirley likes things just as they are.”

Grace swirled the foam in her latte. “You’re sure about that?”

“You bet.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Easy,” he said. “I ask her all the time. We ask each other, How are you doing? How are
we
doing? That sort of thing.”

A wistful smile curved her mouth. “What a concept,” she said.

The ferry nosed into the dock at Mukilteo and they headed off to their cars. “You have a good day in the city, Grace,” said Stan.

She got to Nordstrom’s at opening time. She walked past the stuffy St. John’s knit collection, nearly wincing at the sight of crisp navy-and-white outfits, gold-buttoned epaulets, conservative, low-heeled pumps. Perfect for official functions. Some of her friends were already asking her what she planned to wear at Steve’s Change of Command ceremony.

She felt out of place as she sorted through inappropriate little dresses in impractical fabrics and luscious spring colors. But she forged ahead, determined to change her image. She’d been invisible too long.

“May I help you?” The inevitable question came quickly from
a saleslady. She was a woman of a certain age, but attractive and perfectly groomed.

Grace tried not to feel inferior in her loose jeans and sensible shoes. “Yes,” she said. “I need something special for a…business lunch.”

She kept calling it that, but she knew it was something quite different. Ross Cameron had been urging her to meet with him for quite some time. He’d been in Seattle for two weeks, settling in and getting his company organized. He wanted to meet her for lunch.

But it wasn’t just lunch. She sensed he was as intrigued by her as she was by him. It was strangely gratifying to be the object of a man’s interest.

Last night, after ten, she had drummed up her courage and called him at home. Was the invitation still open?

Of course it was.

She expected to feel guilty and self-indulgent as she tried on expensive clothes and considered each outfit with the gravity of a constitutional judge. But when she was on ensemble number three, a raspberry-colored straight skirt with a black gabardine blazer, she realized that she was actually having fun.

She studied every angle of herself in the three-way mirror, and she wasn’t horrified. She looked…good. The woman helping her must have sensed the shift in her mood, because she showed up with more suggestions—a peacock-blue silk dress, a lemon-yellow blouse, a pair of flattering slacks in a rich charcoal-gray. She also brought accessories—scarves and brooches, belts and bangles. Grace settled on the raspberry skirt and black blazer, adding a top with a plunging neckline and a silk scarf with a cubic design and a shiny clasp.

“I love it,” said the saleslady. “It’s perfect on you.”

“Thanks, I’ll take it. But I think it’s mislabeled,” she said, holding out an arm and showing the dangling tag. “It’s marked size 10.”

“No, that’s no mistake. It’s correct.”

“I haven’t been a size 10 in years.”

“Well, you are now.”

Grace felt almost reckless as she added to her purchases—
underwear and a bra, hose, shoes and a matching bag. Everything was going to be new today.

Buoyant, she headed off to her next appointment. The woman called Ivanka descended like an exotic bird, leading Grace from station to station—nails, hair, makeup. Grace grew alarmed as the damp locks piled up at her feet, but she said nothing. She wanted a change. Well, she was getting it. She submitted to golden streaks and blond highlights. Finally, at precisely 1:00 p.m., Ivanka swirled her chair toward the mirror.

“Take a look,” she said. “What do you think?”

Think? She was supposed to think? She couldn’t put a coherent thought together as she stared at the stranger in the mirror. Who was this creature? This interesting-looking woman with the shiny blond bob and flawless makeup?

“Do not weep,” Ivanka warned her. “I do not want your makeup ruined.”

“Don’t worry,” Grace said, her emotions shifting. “I’ll be fine. I’m just…startled, that’s all.”

“You are lovely,” Ivanka assured her. “Your husband, he will be so charmed by you.”

Grace didn’t know how to answer that, so she smiled and went to change out of the salon robe. In the curtained dressing room, she put on her new things, and when she was finished, she felt new herself. Confident, even a little defiant. She stuffed her old clothes and shoes and even the stupid discount store handbag in the shopping bag and handed it to an attendant at the elevator. “Could you please dispose of this? I won’t be needing it anymore.”

With her head high and her stride quick, she set off down Pine Street. She kept glancing in the shop windows she passed, astonished each time she caught a glimpse of herself. She looked fashionable, a professional woman off to lunch with a client.

Or a meeting with a mystery man.

Her pace slowed. Her confidence faltered. This was insane. She didn’t belong here, lunching in the city at a trendy restaurant. She belonged…where? At home, fixing dinner for the kids, who were
all going to be late because of work and band practice? In her study, taking care of correspondence and wondering about her marriage?

She squared her shoulders and walked on, pushing away her doubts. She was redefining her life. It was scary, yes. And it was hard, much harder than she’d ever imagined. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth doing.

Nothing like a marriage crisis to give a woman the courage of her convictions, she thought. No, that was cynical. She should take pride in the positive changes she’d made. She had started a business from scratch, bought a house, improved her health and fitness. Today, she had changed her image. Those were all good things, she told herself. Every last one of them.

She tried to keep her courage up as she headed to Pike Place. Brilliant arrays of flowers and fruit lined the stalls. A juggler performed for a group of schoolkids, and a blind clown offered balloon animals to passersby. Tourists gathered around a life-size brass pig to watch the City Fish workers perform their unending fish-throwing routine. “Heads up, Blondie,” called a guy in a smudged rubber apron. Grace glanced at him, realizing only at the last second that he was talking to her. With a grin, he sent a whole salmon flying to his co-worker behind the counter.

Grace inhaled the smells of flowers and fish, of truck exhaust and baking bread. She joined the flow of humanity through the market like a leaf in a river current and let herself be swept along. On the middle level of the marketplace, she stepped outside to a narrow walkway leading to the bistro.

She hesitated at the door, her nerves buzzing with anxiety. What if he was horrible, a stalker or a pervert? Worse, what if he was wonderful?

She took a deep breath, stepped inside. People lingered over late lunches at tables set with crisp linens and thick white china.

She dared to look around for a single man waiting alone, but saw no one of that description.

The hostess greeted her, and Grace said, “I’m, uh, meeting someone.” Doubts pounded at her even as she spoke. What am I
doing here? This is insanity. She had to leave now, stand him up and make her excuses later. With an apologetic smile at the hostess, she said, “Actually, I’m afraid I’ll have to lea—”

“Grace?”

A man in a dark suit turned from the bar and crossed the room.

Oh. My. God.

“You’re Grace, right?” said the man, his voice familiar from hours of phone calls. “Wow, it’s great to finally meet you.” He held out his hand. “Ross Cameron.”

Get me out of here.

Somehow she managed to take his hand and smile. “It’s good to meet you, too. Thanks for scheduling this on such short notice.”

The hostess showed them to a corner table by the window. Grace sat down, set her new handbag under her chair and stared at the menu a good thirty seconds before realizing it was upside down.

Ross Cameron seemed relaxed and natural as he studied the menu, then set it down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no idea what I want for lunch. I just can’t get over seeing you.”

His disarming confession broke the ice, and she laughed. “God, I was so nervous about this.”

He sat back, regarding her with both kindness and amusement. “Why nervous?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d be like. On the phone and in e-mail, you’ve always been so great.”

“Like Cyrano de Bergerac.”

She sipped her water. “Not exactly.” Then she laughed again. “Okay, maybe a little. But you have a very nice nose.” He had a nice everything. Eyes the color of expensive whiskey. A mischievous smile. Great taste in clothes.

“You’re nothing like I pictured, either,” he admitted.

Uh-oh. She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Go on.”

“Your kids are nearly grown, so I kept imagining someone a little more…mature. You don’t look old enough for grown kids, Grace.” He lifted his water glass and clinked the rim with hers. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Welcome to Seattle,” she said. She gestured at the view of busy Elliot Bay, the ferry docks and the piers jutting out into the water. Misty islands rose in the distance, and steamers and container ships chugged out to sea.

The waiter came for their orders. The one thing Grace hadn’t changed about herself was her reading glasses, and she wasn’t about to take them out. “I’ll have the special.”

“Soup or salad?”

“Salad, please, with vinaigrette on the side.”

“White or wheat?”

“Wheat, please. And a glass of house merlot.”

“I’ll have everything the same,” said Ross. “Right down to the merlot.”

When the waiter left, Ross asked her, “Do you have any idea what the special is?”

She grinned. “None at all.”

“Me, neither.”

The wine arrived and they toasted again. “One of your brands?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, no. But they do carry some of them. Now that I’m here, I’ll make sure our labels become more visible in the area.”

The lunch special turned out to be a sandwich of seared ahi with remoulade sauce. “That’s a relief,” Grace said, savoring a bite. “It could have been squid or geoducks.”

“Gooey ducks?” He echoed her pronunciation.

“A local specialty. If you have time afterward, I’ll walk through the market with you and show you what a geoduck looks like. Once you’ve seen one, you’ll never order it for lunch.”

He smiled. Devastating, just devastating. “I have plenty of time afterward. I took the rest of the day off.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because I’ve been dying to see you, Grace. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with you.”

Yikes, she thought as an undeniable thrill of attraction fluttered through her.

They talked business, and he asked her so much about Grace Under Pressure that she laughed and shook her head. “You’re not really interested in my business.”

“Are you kidding? I’m fascinated.”

His warm personality was positively magnetic. He was interested in every aspect of her. He wanted to know what she liked, what she thought of things, what her goals were. There was no question in his mind that she was good at what she did, and that she would succeed. His faith and confidence in her abilities filled a place inside her.

“It’s a small home-based business. How interesting can it be?” she said.

“Completely interesting,” he assured her.

“I’m not used to having people find me interesting,” she blurted out. She was so surprised by the admission that she grabbed her wine and drank quickly, sneaking a look at Ross. It had been a long time since she’d felt someone’s belief in her. She wondered if he knew he exceeded all her expectations for him. Every last one of them.

A part of her had hoped the prince would actually turn out to be a toad, because then she could go home with the knowledge that the chemistry was driven by commerce alone.

No such luck. He was as wonderful as she’d feared he would be. Handsome, caring, genuinely interested in her. Honest, good-humored and undeniably drawn to her. Not bad for a first impression.

He was the first man to respond to the “new” Grace, and she reveled in the thought that she looked good to him.

She let him talk her into crème brûlée for dessert, and it came with little pansy blossoms as a garnish. “They’re edible,” the waiter assured her.