Chapter 1

Bob Beldon had a stomp in his step as he crossed Cedar Cove's main avenue, a newly purchased box of two-penny nails under his arm. His stomach growled, and he growled back; Peggy had left him this morning with a box of Wheaties and an empty bowl instead of his usual steak and eggs. They'd had a tiff, something that had been happening with some regularity of late. In fact, it seemed to Bob that there had been more tension between them in the last few weeks than in the previous 20 years of their marriage. Something had changed between the Beldons.

Bob frowned at the memory of Peggy breezing out of the kitchen this morning, dressed to the nines in a new, powder-blue suit and pearls. He didn't begrudge his wife's sudden new enthusiasm for starting a catering business – hell, he was proud of her gumption. And if it meant there would be even more of her delicious baked goods around the house … well, he couldn't complain about that.

Nope, he was all for whatever made his Peggy happy. It just surprised him that she hadn't consulted him about it before she went all gung-ho and had business cards printed up. She used to ask his advice about things. Now she just went ahead and said and did what she wanted. "I've found my voice," she'd told him. "I'm reclaiming my power."

What the hell did that mean?

Rounding the corner outside Moon's Place, Bob spied the object of his musings sitting at one of the outside patio tables, a mug of coffee in her hands and a pleased look on her face. It caught him up short for a moment – she looked so beautiful … so polished. Hard to believe a woman like that was married to an old salt like him. He was about to call out when Moon walked up to her table and sat down across from her. Peggy seemed pleased with his company; Bob watched her smile, then toss her head back and laugh at something Moon said.

Without conscious thought, Bob suddenly found himself striding toward the pair. He felt blood pounding in his ears and anger like a coiled cobra in his gut. As he reached the table where Peggy and Moon were chatting like a couple of old school friends, Bob slammed his box of nails down on the table. The force rattled the silverware and sloshed liquid out of the coffee cup Peg had set down. Both Peggy and Moon looked up in astonishment.

"Bob!" Peggy began, but her husband had fixed his attention on the grizzled proprietor of the coffee shop.

"What do you think you're doing with my wife!" he demanded, and Moon responded with a quizzical stare.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Bob," Moon said mildly. "Peggy and I were having a business meeting. Would you care to join us?"

Bob glared back at the man, the old hippie's failure to look suitably intimidated stoking the former fisherman's ire even hotter. "Yeah? Didn't look like business to me."

"Bob!" He felt a surprisingly strong grip on his wrist and looked to see his wife staring up at him, her expression equal parts shock and embarrassment. "What's the matter with you?" she hissed, casting a quick glance around at the other customers, who were surreptitiously watching the confrontation with the prurient interest typical of strangers witnessing a public spectacle.

Somewhere in the back of Bob Beldon's mind, his rational self was beginning to realize that this tirade was probably not a good idea. But when he heard Peggy murmur quietly, "I'm sorry about this, Moon," rational Bob's advice was drowned out by jealous Bob's harsh retort.

"He's the one who's going to be sorry, if he doesn't stay the hell away from my wife!"

Peggy abruptly stood up. When she spoke, her voice was very controlled, though Bob detected a slight tremor. "If you'll excuse us," she said. Her hand still gripping her husband's wrist with vise-like force, Peggy tugged Bob away from the table, off the patio and onto the sidewalk.

She released his wrist then and took a long, slow breath. Bob could see she was trembling, though it was clearly with anger, not fear. In fact, he'd never seen his wife so furious.

"What was that all about? How dare you come barging in and act like some kind of caveman," she snapped. "Have you completely lost it, Bob Beldon?"

"Apparently you think so," he retorted. "If you're looking to trade me in for a new model, I'd think you could do a hell of a lot better than Moon."

Peggy simply stared at him a few seconds, her mouth agape. "You know I was here to talk with moon about providing muffins and pastries for his morning crowd," she said finally. "I told you where I was going when I left this morning." A sudden thought struck her. "Did you follow me?"

"No, of course I didn't follow you. I just saw you sitting there, and then Moon came over and … and …"

Peggy crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "And what, Bob?" The coldness of her tone was like a dash of ice water and Bob involuntarily took a step back.

"And …" With rational Bob shouting warnings from the back of his cranium, Peggy's husband clutched his fraying rage around him like a ragged blanket. "And I don't happen to like my wife gallivanting around town, dressed up like some executive. Are you too good to be an innkeeper's wife anymore, Peg?"

The look that crossed over her face was so bleak, so wounded, that Bob wished instantly that he could take back his reckless words. But it was too late.

"In case you've forgotten, Bob Beldon, you don't own me, just because I have your last name. Now I have a meeting to get back to," she said, turning away. "We'll talk about this later at home."

Bob watched her walk, with great dignity, back to toward Moon's. Rational Bob was hammering against the front of his skull, shouting at him to go after her. Instead, he walked slowly back to his pick up and drove back to the Thyme & Tide.

Bob spent the remainder of the afternoon trying to finish a custom birdhouse in his shop (the reason he'd gone to town in the first place). But after the third time he'd hammered his own thumb he decided he was too distracted to make a good job of it. Feeling out of sorts and off balance, he cleaned his tools and put them away, then wandered out into the yard. Peggy wasn't home yet. That made him a little uneasy. She would be coming home, right?

The memory of his outburst hours earlier had been hanging over him like a black cloud all day, now assuming a weight that made his shoulders sag and his head bow as he made his way slowly to the glider swing under the old oak at the back of the yard.

He sat down and pushed against the ground with his booted feet to set the swing moving. It creaked from disuse and Bob made a mental note to get out the WD-40. He didn't feel up to fixing it just now, though. The swing slowly came to a halt and he didn't make it go again. Instead, he just sat with his broad, weathered palms on his knees and stared off into the distance, to where the country road turned off into the Thyme & Tide's driveway. Peg would come home that way.

After a few moments of fruitless watching, Bob sighed and leaned against the back of the swing, resting the back of his neck against the lip of the varnished wood. He'd made the swing for Peggy for their 30th wedding anniversary. Almost 10 years ago now. Glancing at the empty place beside him on the bench seat, he wished they'd spent more time in it since then. He closed his eyes, finally letting the day's events crowd fully into his mind. The images were accompanied by a roiling disgust with himself that churned in his belly.

What a blockhead he'd been.

Not that that was anything new. God knows he'd made an ass of himself often enough over the years, going all the way back to the moment he'd first set eyes on his future wife.