16 Lighthouse Road - By Debbie Macomber Page 0,101

the man who became my friend. He wanted to meet you, I'm convinced of that, but I think he was afraid."

"Of me?"

She nodded. "He moved to Cedar Cove because it was the closest facility to where you lived. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I suppose." He didn't seem convinced.

"I understood Tom. Don't ask me how or why, but the two of us bonded. Some days it was almost as if we could talk. I understood what he wanted to say and he appeared to understand me."

"My father said he always did have a way with the ladies."

Charlotte stiffened, then decided Cliff was probably right. She wouldn't take offense, although that was her first instinct. "Your grandfather never had the chance to tell you he loved you."

"Loved me?" Cliff flared. "He never even met me."

"You're right, of course, but you were his only living relative. He'd obviously kept track of you. Otherwise, how would he have known where you were living or that you raised horses?"

"Are you sure he knew that?"

"I believe he did. The same way I'm confident he wanted you to have the things I took out of his storage unit. He wasn't able to be part of your life. Perhaps he felt he didn't have the right to intrude on you. But it's his blood that runs through your veins. He was proud of you - I know it. Proud to be your grandfather. This is all he had to give you."

Cliff Harding set down his coffee and stood. Staring out the window, he turned his back to Charlotte. "I came this afternoon to thank you for your efforts on my grandfather's behalf and to tell you I wanted nothing to do with the man."

"And now?"

"You're a very persuasive woman, Mrs. Jefferson."

"Does that mean you'll take his things home with you?" She hoped he would. And more importantly, she wanted him to examine each piece and discover the man Tom Harding had been. She feared Cliff would pack everything away without learning about his heritage.

"I'll take them."

"And you'll carefully study what your grandfather left you?"

He nodded.

"I believe you've made a wise decision." Sighing deeply, Charlotte knew she'd put in a good day's work. Somehow, she'd accomplished what Tom had wanted her to do. And on a more personal note, she'd be glad to remove the gun from her girdle.

Justine bought a slinky blue dress for her ten-year class reunion, but she didn't know who she was hoping to impress. Her one consolation, as she headed out the door for the festivities, was that Seth Gunderson wouldn't be attending. She should know. As the treasurer for the reunion, Justine had compiled a list of who'd signed up and who'd paid. Seth had done neither.

She felt humiliated arriving without a date, but why should this night be different from any other high-school function? Justine had been an outsider all through those years. She was the class brain, the valedictorian and the girl voted most likely to succeed. With several scholarships offered, she'd dutifully chosen a prestigious East Coast school and followed the course set out for her, but she was never truly happy.

She hated life on campus, hated being away from Cedar Cove. After her graduation, she'd taken a job at First National. In the years since, she'd been promoted steadily. Now she was the youngest branch manager in Cedar Cove history, and one of the bank's youngest senior employees. Justine loved the challenge of her job and enjoyed playing an active role in financing the growth of her community. But she considered her personal life a dismal failure.

Warren would have attended the reunion with her if she'd pressed him. She hadn't, afraid her former classmates would assume he was her father or, even worse, an old teacher they couldn't quite place.

The high-school gymnasium looked great, if she did say so herself. The decoration committee, of which she was a part, had worked hard and done a fabulous job. Fresh flowers were everywhere, on the tables and in huge rented vases along the walls.

The band was already playing, and almost involuntarily Justine tapped her foot to the music as she waited in line to collect her badge and sign in. Everyone around her was talking; she was surrounded by squeals of recognition and "do you remember when's." Just as she had in high school, she remained the outsider, listening in, smiling and pretending she felt at ease when she didn't.

Attending this reunion was a bad idea. Her instincts had told her