LITMIR.BIZ

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did she tell you?” Peggy asked before Bob could.

      “Unfortunately not as much as I’d like. The last time she spoke to her father, he told her he was leaving town. He didn’t give her any details. They were apparently quite close, but when she questioned him about where he was going and why, he was evasive.

      “He never returned. After two weeks, she reported him as a missing person.”

      “That’s all she knows?” Bob turned to face the sheriff. He gripped the back of his chair and slowly released his breath. Reclaiming his seat, he mulled over the information, feeling more confused than ever.

      “It seems so,” Davis told him, picking up his coffee.

      “Was it a business trip?” Bob asked next.

      Davis shook his head. “He hasn’t worked since the accident.”

      “Accident?” Peggy echoed.

      “He was in a car crash five years ago. It killed his wife and badly disfigured him. The accident was the reason for his reconstructive surgery.”

      Well, that explained that….

      “I didn’t recognize him at all,” Bob murmured. He’d seemed vaguely familiar—his bearing, perhaps, but Bob would never have associated that stranger with the twenty-year-old he’d once known.

      “In the last few years, Hannah’s lost both her parents. She took the news hard.”

      “That poor girl,” Peggy said sympathetically. “She must’ve been beside herself when she didn’t hear from her father all those months.”

      “It’s no wonder.” Bob didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until he heard the sound of his own voice. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, splaying his fingers through his hair.

      No wonder the nightmare had come that night. His subconscious had made some connection, and he’d been swept into the churning memories the nightmare induced.

      “Do you know why Max would seek you out?” Sheriff Davis asked again.

      “No.” Bob could only speculate.

      “His daughter’s coming to get the ashes.” The sheriff looked from Bob to Peggy. When there was no one to claim the body or pay burial expenses, the county cremated the remains. “Hannah asked if she could speak to you both.”

      “What did you tell her?” Bob asked.

      “I told her it was up to you, but I imagined you wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

      Peggy nodded. “When is she coming?”

      “As soon as she can make the arrangements. She’s hoping to arrive next week.”

      Peggy glanced at Bob. He knew what she was asking and he knew his answer, too.

      “Tell Hannah she’s welcome to stop by anytime.”

      The sheriff nodded. “I’ll do that.”

      Olivia saw the huge bouquet of vibrant red roses being delivered to the courthouse when she broke for lunch. They were lovely, and in February, especially this close to Valentine’s Day, they must have cost a fortune.

      She followed the florist’s deliveryman down the halls of the courthouse and wondered who was lucky enough to receive such gorgeous roses. When the man announced he was looking for Judge Lockhart’s office, she stopped abruptly.

      Someone had sent her roses?

      “I’m Judge Lockhart,” she said quickly, and led the way into her office. The roses were stunning, the buds just opening, their color rich and deep.

      As soon as the man left, Olivia grabbed the card, certain Jack had sent them. She tore at the envelope, then hesitated when a second thought gave her pause.

      They could be from Stan.

      She stared hard at the half-opened envelope and sank into her chair. She reached for the telephone, although she didn’t often call Grace at work.

      It took a moment to get her best friend on the line.

      “What happened?” Grace asked automatically. “What’s wrong?”

      “Nothing yet.” Olivia was giddy with anticipation—and a hint of dread. “I have the most incredible roses here and a sealed card.”

      “You don’t know who sent them?”

      “No.”

      “Open the card,” Grace urged.

      “I think they’re from Stan.”

      “And you want it to be Jack?”

      Olivia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Of course I want it to be Jack.” But he’d already sent her flowers once, and it had been completely out of character then. Twice would be too much to expect.

      “When was the last time you heard from him?”

      Grace always did get caught up in the details. “We talk all the time.”

      “Did he mention getting together for Valentine’s?”

      Olivia strained her memory. If he had, it was only a vague reference. “Not that I recall. He’s busy, I’m busy. It’s harder now that the paper’s going to five days a week.”

      “When was the last time Stan called you?”

      Olivia didn’t answer. “They must be from Stan,” she said, already disappointed. The irony was, she couldn’t remember once in all the years they were married that Stan had sent her roses.

      “Look at the card, would you?” Grace insisted.

      “Oh, all right.” She ripped the envelope all the way open, holding her breath.

      “Well?” Grace said after a few tense seconds.

      “Stan.”

      “That’s what you thought.”

      “I know.”

      “What does the card say?”

      Olivia glanced down at it again, and with little enthusiasm read the few scribbled lines aloud. “’Be my Valentine now and forever. Join me for a night to remember.’ And then it’s signed Stan.”

      Grace muttered something unintelligible; whatever her friend’s sentiment, Olivia shared it. If Stan had loved her so much, he wouldn’t have walked out on their family when he had. He wouldn’t have married Marge the moment their divorce was final. He wouldn’t have abandoned Olivia in the hour of her darkest pain. Love demanded more.

      “You’re awfully quiet,” Grace commented. “What are you thinking?”

      Olivia grinned. “That Jack tries, but he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”

      “So what else is new?”

      These days, Stan could be counted on to bring her flowers and candy, to make all the conventional gestures, but there was no substance to him. He had a handsome face and an empty heart. He seemed more worried about losing Olivia to Jack—as if she was the object of some male competition—than about her happiness.

      “What will you tell Stan?” Grace asked.

      “I’m afraid he’s going to be disappointed because I’ve already got a date.”

      “You do? But you said Jack hadn’t mentioned anything about Valentine’s….”

      Olivia’s decision had been made. “If he doesn’t ask me, then I’ll just ask him.”

      Grace laughed, and it was the same wonderful sound Olivia remembered from when they were teenagers. It seemed only a few years ago that they were teenagers, talking endlessly about boys and dates and Valentine’s

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