204 Rosewood Lane Read Online Free Page B

her a key shortly before he died. Upon investigation, she’d found his personal effects in a storage unit and concluded that Tom was the onetime movie and television cowboy star. As Tom’s only surviving relative, Cliff was entitled to these mementos.
    In the beginning, Cliff wanted nothing to do with the old man, but Charlotte wouldn’t hear of it. She’d made it her mission to make sure Tom’s things, which included posters, scripts and his six-shooter—were delivered to Cliff, whether he wanted them or not.
    Once he met Charlotte, Cliff understood why his grandfather had felt so comfortable with the older woman, and over the course of the summer, they’d become quick friends.
    He made a habit of stopping in to see her or giving her a call every couple of weeks. She appeared to enjoy these visits and bragged proudly about her two children and her grandchildren. Her son, William, lived somewhere in the south, if he remembered correctly, and a daughter, Olivia, was a family court judge right here in Cedar Cove. Cliff had yet to meet Olivia, although he did wonder if any woman could live up to everything her mother had said about her.
    Now that Cliff had spent some time studying the items Charlotte had rescued from the storage unit, he’d come to appreciate what she’d done. He could think of no better way to thank her than by giving her one of the movie posters, which he’d had mounted and framed. Charlotte had genuinely loved Tom Harding and that was before she’d identified him as The Yodeling Cowboy.
    Cliff parked his truck on the steep hill above the cove, angling his tires into the curb. Carrying the unwieldy poster, he walked up the few steps that led to the large family home. As usual, Harry, her “guard cat,” was curled up asleep in the living-room window. Even before he had a chance to ring the bell, Cliff heard Charlotte turning the door locks.
    He’d never had the opportunity to count how many locks Charlotte had, but he suspected Houdini couldn’t have gotten inside. He wasn’t sure what she had hidden that was sovaluable; he did know that anything precious was likely to be buried underneath a pile of panty hose. He was also aware that at some point in their conversation Charlotte was likely to ask him about his bowels.
    â€œCliff,” she said happily, unlatching the screen door, first one and then a second lock. “This is a pleasant surprise. I wish you’d let me know you were planning to stop by. I would’ve baked you a batch of cookies.”
    That was exactly the reason he hadn’t phoned ahead. The woman was intent on fattening him up. Cliff didn’t need any assistance in that area—he already had a paunch that had come with middle age and he was trying hard to lose it. So far he was down ten pounds from the first of the year, although he swore it would’ve been easier to chip away rock. Until retirement, he’d never had to worry about his weight.
    â€œI brought you a little something,” he said as she swung open the screen door for him. Harry raised his head, stared at him and apparently decided Cliff was a friend. The cat closed his eyes and resumed his nap.
    â€œSit down and I’ll make us a cup of tea,” Charlotte said. “And I’ve got some pound cake.”
    â€œDon’t go to any bother.” He knew it wouldn’t do much good to protest, but he tried anyway. He was only going to stay for a few minutes. After leaving Charlotte’s, he’d drop off Grace Sherman’s credit card at the Pancake Palace. He might ask Charlotte if she knew Grace, since the older woman seemed acquainted with nearly everyone in Cedar Cove.
    â€œYou must be hungry,” Charlotte said, sounding hurt that he’d refused her offer.
    â€œCharlotte,” he insisted, “open your gift.” It wasn’t wrapped, but the frame shop had slipped it inside a cardboard