over as he completed the New York Times crossword puzzle. Charlotte was impressed by his skill with words and his wide general knowledge. She also liked his lack of arrogance—he used a pencil to fill it in.
“The first batch will be out of the oven soon,” she promised. She enjoyed baking, especially when there was someone who appreciated her homemade treats. Ben certainly did, but he preferred his cinnamon rolls without raisins. She liked the raisins and Jack, her rascal of a son-in-law, did too. The solution was easy enough; she simply split the batch in half.
Her husband of little more than a month was a handsome man, a Cesar Romero lookalike and a few years younger than Charlotte. Their age difference of four years didn’t bother him and it didn’t bother her, either. Charlotte was a young seventy-seven. While still in her teens, she’d married Clyde Jefferson; that was toward the end of the Second World War. Women married much younger back in those days, she reflected. Together Clyde and Charlotte had raised their children in Cedar Cove. Olivia, her daughter, was a family court judge and still lived here. Her son, Will, had moved to Atlanta.
Cedar Cove, where she’d lived for most of her life, was situated on the Kitsap Peninsula across Puget Sound from Seattle, and it was a thriving community. With a population of little over seven thousand, the town was small enough to be friendly, but large enough to have its own medical facility.
The new Cedar Cove Medical Clinic was due to officially open in the middle of November. Charlotte beamed with pride, knowing that without her and Ben and her friends from the Senior Center, there wouldn’t be a clinic.
Even Olivia, her own daughter, hadn’t seen the need for one, since the hospital in Bremerton was less than half an hour away, and there were good doctors in town. All of that was true, but Charlotte felt Cedar Cove should have a more complete medical facility, where emergencies could be handled. Half an hour was a long time to wait if you were having a heart attack! It could make the difference between life and death. Ben had felt the same way, and the cause had bonded them, especially when they were arrested for their peaceful demonstration. That rankled even now, but nearly the entire town had showed up to support her, Ben and their comrades in court. Just remembering how her friends had gathered around them was enough to make Charlotte’s eyes fill with tears.
But, she reminded herself, that was neither here nor there; the clinic had been built and the staff hired, including the McAfees’ daughter, Linnette, a physician assistant.
The phone rang, and Charlotte glanced at the kitchen clock, slightly annoyed that anyone would be phoning so early on a Saturday morning. To her astonishment, it was nearly ten.
“I’ll get it.” As she reached for the telephone, she noticed that Harry, her black cat, was curled up in Ben’s lap. Now this was progress. Harry was Charlotte’s protector and he wasn’t fond of visitors. It had taken him half of this first month to get accustomed to Ben’s presence and that long again to have anything to do with him.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully into the receiver. Clyde used to say that Charlotte was born in a good mood. She had a natural inclination toward happiness; while some looked at the world as a place of gloom and sadness, she saw the positive things in life, even though she, too, had experienced great sorrows.
“Is my father there?” a rather pleasant male voice asked. Then, as if to clarify the point, he added, “Ben Rhodes.”
“Yes, of course. Is this Stephen?”
Her question was followed by an awkward laugh. “No, it’s David. I’m calling from California.”
“Hello, David,” Charlotte said warmly. “I’m so sorry you weren’t able to make it to our wedding. You were missed.”
Ben’s youngest son seemed taken aback by her friendliness. “I wish I could’ve been there, but I’m
R. K. Ryals, Melanie Bruce