Blossom Street

This was why Annie had been gone so much recently, Bethanne realized. Her daughter hadn’t informed her about the swim team, and Bethanne didn’t really understand why. Maybe Annie had wanted to wait, make sure it all worked out.

“I think swimming is a good idea,” Bethanne said.

“What are you going to do?” her daughter asked. “When we’re back in school and doing all our extracurricular stuff?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“How many parties have you got booked for September?”

“Annie, please,” Bethanne cried. “I have to leave now if we’re going to pick up Courtney, otherwise we’ll be late.”

“Mom, you need a plan.”

“We can talk about it on the way,” she said, hurrying inside for her purse and car keys. She didn’t miss Annie’s exasperated expression.

Annie was already in the front seat and buckled up by the time Bethanne returned.

“Well?” Annie demanded as Bethanne backed out of the driveway.

“I’ll hire someone.”

“Who?”

“Courtney.” The girl was trustworthy and a natural with kids, and she seemed to have more free time than her own children did. Bethanne would insist on paying her.

Annie and Courtney had become good friends, just as she’d hoped. She had no idea what they talked about, but it wasn’t unusual for them to spend two and three hours at a stretch in Annie’s bedroom. Bethanne would’ve guessed they didn’t have much in common, but apparently she was wrong.

“Courtney!” Annie exploded right on cue. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Is something wrong with Courtney?” she asked mildly, reviewing her party list. Food, dishes, decorations, costumes … Eventually, she’d like to upgrade to a party van, too. She’d need the extra space, plus she could have her logo and phone number painted on the side.

“Mom,” Annie continued, “you can’t hire Courtney.”

“Why not?” Bethanne asked, stopping for a red light.

“It isn’t fair to her! This is her senior year and she’s in a new school. She wants to join the yearbook staff. Did you know she was chosen to be yearbook editor at her high school in Chicago?”

Annie said this in awe. Bethanne suspected that her daughter was less impressed by the fact that Courtney was yearbook editor than by her willingness to walk away from the honor for her family’s sake.

“Courtney came to Seattle and she doesn’t know anyone,” Annie went on.

“She knows you and Andrew,” Bethanne countered.

“Andrew is so self-absorbed he isn’t going to be much help to her,” Annie said with a dismissive gesture. “Mom, if you ask Courtney, I know she’ll say yes, so you can’t ask her. It would be completely unfair. Courtney needs a chance to make friends, and to do that she needs time. Besides—” she gave an exasperated sigh “—she’s already off on the wrong foot.”

“What do you mean?” The light changed, and Bethanne drove through the intersection.

“Didn’t you hear?” Annie cried as if this were a disaster of catastrophic proportions. “Courtney registered for classes without talking to me and it’s awful. She signed up for all the wrong ones. She’s in first-period PE!”

As Bethanne recalled, there’d been some discussion about this during their most recent knitting class. Courtney didn’t have a lot of options in registering for her classes. After the basic requirements were met, the only electives left were the least popular ones.

“Okay, I’ll find someone else to hire,” Bethanne said. “Not Courtney.” Privately, she thought Courtney should make the decision about whether or not to accept the job herself. On the other hand, she didn’t want the girl agreeing to it out of a sense of obligation or friendship, and Annie was probably right in thinking that would happen.

“Thanks, Mom.”

After a few minutes’ silence, her daughter said, “I phoned Dad last night.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected, but Bethanne knew better than to reveal any emotion. Annie wouldn’t have mentioned the call if there wasn’t something she wanted her mother to know.

“We talked.”

“I’m proud of you,” Bethanne said, and she meant it. The fact that Annie had reached out to him revealed a new maturity in her daughter. “I want you to have a relationship with your father.”

Annie laughed softly. “Dad’s still pretty mad about some of the stuff I pulled. I told him to get over it.”

That was a fitting comment, since Grant had said virtually the same thing about Annie during that conversation at the French Café.

“I bragged about how successful your party business is.”

“Thanks,” Bethanne said, grinning at her daughter. She was curious to know whether Grant had commented on her business accomplishments, but she wouldn’t ask.

“She’s still upset about what I did to her car, even though the insurance company covered it.”

“I’d rather not discuss that,” Bethanne said. “That’s in the past, you’ve apologized and it’ll never happen again.”

“Yeah,” Annie said on the end of a sigh. “But about Tiffany—well, there’s no easy way to say this.”

“Then just say it,” Bethanne advised.

“She and Dad are flying to Vegas this afternoon to get married. They’ve got everything arranged with one of those wedding chapel places. He seemed to think I should know. I guess because he wanted me to tell you.”

She’d known it would happen sooner or later, but still …

“Are you okay?” her daughter asked, watching her closely. Her sweet face was tense with concern.

“I’m fine.” And she was, although there was regret and melancholy mingled with her acceptance. “What’s going to be different?” she asked with a nonchalant shrug. “He’s been living with Tiffany ever since he moved out.”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to freak out.”

“How do you feel about it?” Bethanne asked.

Annie took a moment to consider the question. “It’s sad, you know. It’s like Dad isn’t even part of my life anymore. I don’t even see him because she refuses to let me in the house. As if I’d want to visit,” she scoffed. “You know, Mom, I don’t really care.”

“I don’t either,” Bethanne murmured. “But it’s important that you maintain a connection with your dad. Your relationship with Grant has nothing to do with Tiffany—or me.”

After the party, she had an overwhelming urge to talk to Paul, but she waited until Andrew and Annie were out for the night. They were attending a rock concert at Key Arena—some rapper whose lyrics Bethanne couldn’t make out. From what she knew of rappers, that was probably for the best.

Paul answered on the second ring. “I was going to give you a call,” he said. He sounded genuinely pleased to hear from her.

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” She wanted to see him although she didn’t intend to cook. “I’m going to order pizza.”

“Perfect. I’ll rent a movie,” he said, then hesitated. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

“Really?”

“Bethanne, you’re avoiding the subject.”

“You might want to wait until you get here.”

“No,” he insisted, “tell me now.”

She sighed. Grant hadn’t had the courage to tell her; instead he’d done it through their daughter. Even then, Annie had been the one to phone him, otherwise none of them would’ve known until after the fact.

“Tonight, while we’re eating pizza and watching a DVD, Grant and Tiffany will be in Vegas. Three guesses why.”

“They’re getting married.”

“Bingo.”

Paul didn’t comment for a long moment. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“Make it a big bottle,” she said.

28

CHAPTER

COURTNEY PULANSKI

Courtney arrived for her orientation class at Washington High School early on Monday, August 15. She’d already received her class assignments, and according to Annie, she’d failed miserably in choosing her electives. She was doomed to become a social outcast if what Annie said was true.

She spent the morning at the high school. The purpose of the orientation was to ensure, among other things, that she’d be familiar enough with the building to make her way from class to class on the first day of school. The summer was almost over, and Courtney prayed the year would pass just as quickly.

At noon, once she was finished with orientation, she headed home. Grams had volunteered to drive her, but Courtney had refused, taking her bike instead. It was parked behind the building, close to the football field. When she went to retrieve it, she noticed the football team practicing. She stopped and decided to watch for a few minutes. Annie had boasted that Andrew played quarterback, although it was hard to recognize him beneath all that equipment.

The three of them had gone out for pizza that one night, but Andrew didn’t stay with Annie and Courtney long. Very soon after they’d arrived at the restaurant, Andrew had run into a group of his friends and abandoned the girls. Not that it really mattered … She’d seen him a few times since, mostly at Annie’s place, but she doubted she’d said a dozen words to him.

Sitting in the stands, Courtney saw Andrew throw a pass deep into the end zone. The receiver leaped into the air and miraculously came down with the football. Excited to have scored the touchdown, Andrew raced to the end of the field and threw his arms around the receiver.

A whistle blew and the team formed a huddle around their coach. After a couple of minutes, all the players sent up a cheer and trotted toward the locker room.

Andrew had removed his helmet and was talking to a friend when he glanced up into the stands. He must have seen her because he stared as if trying to determine whether this was someone he knew.

Courtney felt uncomfortably conspicuous. She waved and stood up to leave.

Andrew started toward the chain-link fence, obviously intending to speak to her. Embarrassed now, Courtney walked down the steep concrete steps and met him at the fence.

“I didn’t recognize you at first,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure that was you, either.” Courtney smiled, happy just to see him. She hoped he’d notice the fact that she’d lost weight—almost fifteen pounds. She was beginning to discern a difference in how her clothes fit.

“They had orientation for new students this morning,” she explained, nervously pointing at the building behind her. She had to make clear to Andrew that she hadn’t come down here because of him. She liked him—okay, really liked him—but she didn’t want him knowing it.

“Yeah, the school always does that.”

“My bicycle’s back here.”

He nodded, apparently disinterested. “Have you got your class assignments yet?”

Courtney told him what she remembered.

“I’m in second period Honors English,” he said.

“You are?” This was good news as far as Courtney was concerned. She’d know at least one person in that class. To hear Annie talk, she’d gotten the very dregs of the elective courses.

Another player shouted at Andrew, and he looked over his shoulder. “Be there in a minute,” he shouted back.

“You’d better go,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Listen, I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but I’m grateful you called me that night about Annie. She’s feeling a lot better since she started hangin’ with you.”

“Thanks. I needed a friend, too.”

They exchanged goodbyes and see-you-laters. As Andrew walked away, a blond girl raced onto the field. She gave a loud shriek, and when Andrew turned, she leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Although Andrew was sweaty and hot from practice and still in his uniform, she planted an openmouthed kiss on his lips. Naturally, the girl was thin and beautiful.

Courtney turned away to find a second girl almost directly behind her.

“Oh. Hi,” she said, giving Courtney a look that would have frozen motor oil.

“Hi.” Despite the chilly greeting, Courtney felt this was her opportunity to make friends. “I’m Courtney Pulanski.”

“Shelly Johnson. I’m with Melanie.”

It seemed Melanie was the one with a lip lock on Andrew.

“I’m a friend of Andrew and Annie’s,” she said, hoping this would smooth the way for her. They were basically the only teenagers she knew. She’d met a lot of people since she’d arrived in Seattle, but most of them collected social security. Bethanne and Lydia were two exceptions, but Bethanne was probably close to her father’s age, and Lydia had to be at least thirty.

“Yeah,” Shelly said with the same lack of welcome. “I’ve heard about you.”

This was interesting. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

Courtney thought giving the other girl some background might warm her reception. “I recently moved here from Chicago.”

“Will you be going to this school?”

Courtney nodded. “It’s my senior year.”

“Same as Andrew,” she said, and her gaze narrowed suspiciously, as if she was trying to read Courtney’s intentions toward Annie’s brother.

Courtney wanted it understood that she didn’t consider herself competition for Melanie. “I’m actually more Annie’s friend than Andrew’s,” she murmured.

“Uh-huh. Just so you know, Mel and Andrew have been dating for a year. Mel’s the head cheerleader and she’ll probably be Homecoming Queen. It’s perfect because Andrew’s for sure gonna be King.”

“Perfect,” Courtney echoed. It was all so perfectly perfect. She didn’t understand how she could be deemed a threat to this perfect romance.

As soon as she could, Courtney left and biked back to her grandmother’s. She felt a surprising sense of energy as she rode, although she was definitely out of sorts.

“I have your lunch ready,” Grams told her when she walked into the kitchen. A bowl of soup waited on the table, along with a tray of sliced carrots and celery.

“I’m not hungry,” Courtney snapped, stomping toward her bedroom.

“Courtney Pulanski, there’s no need to get snippy with me,” her grandmother said sternly.

Courtney was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Grams.”

“What’s wrong?”

Courtney shook her head, not knowing what to say. She could hardly even put words to what she felt. It was that familiar ache of loneliness, that sense of not fitting in. She missed her friends and her family and her old high school. More than anything in the world, she just wanted to go home.

“Maybe you’re tired?” her grandmother suggested.

A nap was her grandmother’s solution to just about every problem. That or a bowel movement. Rather than respond, Courtney continued up the stairs to her room.

Once inside, she closed the door and logged onto the Internet. Her spirits lifted immediately when she saw an e-mail from her father. He sounded well, which was a huge relief. She felt a constant, nagging worry about him. She’d heard far too many stories about kidnappings in South America to be comfortable with her dad working there. She answered his e-mail right away and described the orientation class, exaggerating her enthusiasm for the start of school. Courtney didn’t want her father to be concerned about her, didn’t want to add to the burdens he already carried.

After reading her other mail—from Julianna and two of her Chicago friends—she lay down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, assessing her chances for success this year. At the moment everything seemed bleak.

It was the way Melanie had looked at her, Courtney decided. Andrew’s girlfriend had given her the eye as she claimed possession of Andrew. She viewed Courtney as an unknown and unwelcome threat. Funny how much you could derive from a single look.

Shelly, the friend, didn’t even pretend to be friendly. Their entire conversation had been an attempt to gain information so she could assure the perfect “Mel” that Courtney was a nobody.

Courtney did wonder why Annie had never mentioned Melanie. Maybe she didn’t like her brother’s girlfriend. Or maybe it simply hadn’t occurred to her.

“Do you want me to bring you your lunch?” her grandmother shouted from the foot of the stairs.

Courtney reluctantly slid off the bed and stepped out into the hallway. “Grams, I told you, I’m not hungry.” And the last thing she wanted was for her grandmother to climb the stairs. Vera had made her feelings about that quite clear.

“You should eat something.”

“I will later.”

Her grandmother’s face darkened. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m all right.”

“Did someone upset you?”

Courtney slowly came down the stairs, her hand on the railing. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her grandmother looked as if she didn’t believe her.

“Maybe I’ll have some soup, after all,” Courtney said, and Grams brightened.

“I want to hear about your classes.” She bustled into the kitchen, with Courtney following.

They sat at the table and chatted while Courtney ate her tomato soup and carrot sticks.

“Leta thinks once you’re settled in school, you should join the swim team,” Courtney’s grandmother said in an encouraging voice. “We all agree you’re like greased lightning in the water.”

Courtney hid a smile. She’d become a more skilled swimmer through the summer, but it wasn’t any wonder Grams thought she was fast, considering her competition was a group of eighty-year-olds.

“Think about it,” Grams urged.

“I will,” Courtney promised.

29

CHAPTER

“You can do it. It’s only one stitch at a time.”

—Myra Hansen, owner, Fancy Image Yarn, Shelton, WA. www.FancyImageYarn.com

LYDIA HOFFMAN

I was looking forward to my next sock class—although it was technically my last. Elise, Bethanne and Courtney had each completed one pair of socks using two circular needles and had already started on a second. Once again I was enthralled with the way three women, from dissimilar backgrounds, could be brought together by the simple enjoyment of knitting. I’d been a silent witness to it all, and marveled anew at how their lives had become entwined.

Elise was the one who’d suggested Bethanne start her own party business, and Courtney had become a special friend to Bethanne’s daughter, Annie. Best of all, they’d become friends to each other. And to me …

Margaret had been in good spirits ever since the worry of losing their home had been removed. I didn’t know what she’d told Matt about the money, but it didn’t matter. Not once had she brought up the subject of the ten thousand dollars, and frankly, I was relieved. I’d gladly make those loan payments and never say a word. My family had sacrificed so much for me through the years that it felt good to be giving something back. To Mom, who needed my time and attention more than ever, and to my sister.

Elise arrived for class first, and I noticed the white Lincoln Continental parked in front of the shop with the distinguished older man sitting behind the wheel. I found her ex-husband’s devotion rather touching, and there was a certain reassurance in knowing that love can be renewed—not that I expected any such thing in my own life.

I love Brad and Cody; time wouldn’t change that. Cody and I talked once or twice a week. He told me his dad said he could phone me anytime he wanted. He rarely mentioned his mother, as if he knew talking about Janice and his dad was painful to me. The only concrete information I’d learned was that his mom still had her own place. I figured that probably wouldn’t be for long.

“Good morning, everyone,” Elise said. She positively glowed—there was no other word for it.

I had to stop what I was doing and look again. “You’re in a good mood,” I commented.

“My daughter said the same thing.”

“I see Maverick’s here,” Margaret announced, looking out the display window.

Elise blushed with pleasure. “I told him it’s utter nonsense to sit outside and wait, but he says he doesn’t have anything better to do. He reads the newspaper.” She sat down at the table and brought out her knitting. “I ended up giving him the socks I knit, so once I finish these for Aurora, I’ll make a pair for David.”

“Was Maverick surprised?” It wasn’t any of my business, but I was curious. The first socks I’d knit with the circular-needle method were for Brad. He’d nearly worn them out, so I’d knit several more pairs. I wonder if he still wore them. If Janice knew who’d made those socks, she might ask him to throw them in the garbage. Or do it herself, I thought darkly.

Elise was explaining that Maverick loved the socks and yes, he’d been completely surprised, when the door opened and Bethanne breezed into the shop.

“I’m not late, am I?” she asked. “I get so involved with what I’m doing that I lose track of where I need to be.” She hurried to the back of the shop, where Elise sat by herself.

Bethanne had changed so much since that first class in June. She was confident, optimistic, happy. There was a mystery man in her life, too. She’d mentioned his name in passing, Pete or Paul, but I’d forgotten.

Courtney was almost directly behind Bethanne. I was concerned about her; for the past two weeks she’d been quieter than usual. I knew she was feeling stressed about starting a new school and I hoped the transition would be smooth. I wouldn’t broach the subject, but if she wanted to bring it up, I’d be ready and willing to listen.

“This is officially our last class,” I said and to my delight the announcement was greeted with boos and jeers. “Would you like to continue?” All three instantly agreed, which was exactly what had happened with my original class. “Then I propose that we turn this into a knitting support group.” I’d been thinking about beginning a new one, and this was the perfect opportunity. “I’ll let the other classes know, so we might have a few other knitters joining us now and then.” I explained that they’d continue meeting each week—same time, same place. They were welcome to bring in whatever they wanted to knit and I’d be available to help anyone who had a question or a problem. I no longer charged for this, because I’d seen the benefits of having people come to the shop on a regular basis.

“That sounds ideal,” Elise said, speaking for the group. “I’ve enjoyed this class more than I can say.”

I suspected she was so in love with her ex-husband that the whole world seemed shiny and bright. I didn’t know whether there was any kind of arrangement between them. Maybe they were just living in the present, not worrying about the future.

“I’ll come every week I can,” Bethanne assured the others. “The only reason I couldn’t is if I have a function, but I can’t imagine there’ll be too many birthday parties on weekday afternoons.”

“Me neither,” I agreed. “You’ve finished your socks, right?”

Bethanne nodded.

“You gave them to your son?”

Color crept up her neck and invaded her cheeks. “Actually, no. I gave them to a … friend.”

Margaret walked over to the table, carrying a stack of pattern books. “Paul?”

Bethanne nodded. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re just friends. He’s the ex-husband of the woman my husband left me for.” There were a few gasps. “His ex-wife and my ex-husband are married now,” she said matter-of-factly, “and we get together once in a while to talk things over. How we feel about it and all that.”

“When did they get married?” Courtney asked and seemed surprised.

“Just recently. It wasn’t unexpected, but it helps to have someone to discuss this with. Paul’s great.” She took a deep breath. “He’s a few years younger and well, he’d like us to have a more … romantic relationship. I promised to consider it, but in the end I decided we’d be more valuable to each other as friends. I told him the only way I’d go out with him was if his mother came along to chaperone.”

Elise and Courtney laughed.

“I’m encouraging him to see someone closer to his own age.”

“What about you?” Margaret asked. “Are you ready to date?”

Bethanne shook her head. “Not yet. Dating means I’d have to shave my legs and wear panty hose. That’s more bother than it’s worth at this point.”