Blossom Street

“You don’t shave your legs?” Courtney asked with an appalled look. “I do practically every day.”

“Annie, too.” Then Bethanne shrugged. “I got out of the habit in my thirties.”

“What about you, Court?” I asked, feeling comfortable enough with the teenager to shorten her name. “Will you be able to join the support group?”

“I’ll come until school starts,” she said, “and I might even be able to come after that, but I’d need to discuss it with my advisor. I think my Tuesday schedule should be okay.”

“Hey,” Elise said, “who says we have to meet at the same time? We could make it after school, instead, and then Courtney could join us for sure. Does that work for everyone?”

An immediate chorus of agreement followed. “Three o’clock it is,” I announced.

The bell chimed and one of my all-time favorite knitters came into the shop. “Jacqueline!” I cried, cheered to see her. It’d been a couple of weeks since we’d talked. She was a regular at the Friday charity sessions, but she’d been on a trip with her husband.

“I’m back from New York City and here for a yarn fix,” she informed me. Everyone at the table knew Jacqueline, so introductions weren’t necessary.

She had that look in her eye, a look I recognized. Those of us who are addicted to yarn seem to share it. Jacqueline was among my best customers; she could afford to buy as much yarn as she wanted and she did, without restraint. She’d told me recently that Reece had set aside a room in their house for her yarn stash. I envied her all that space. Jacqueline had every intention of knitting each skein—once she found the project best suited to it. I, too, had a million projects waiting. We both had more yarn tucked away than we could possibly knit in an entire lifetime, or even two.

Jacqueline sat down next to Elise and admired her work. She tended to dominate the conversation, but no one really minded. Her enthusiasm for yarn and knitting was contagious.

The phone rang and my ever-efficient sister answered it. I wasn’t paying much attention but when she replaced the receiver and walked over to the table, where I sat with the class, I noticed the color had drained from her face.

Margaret placed her hand on my shoulder. “It’s Mom,” she managed to say. “We need to get to Swedish Hospital right away.”

“What happened?” My heart was instantly in my throat.

“She collapsed—the neighbor found her on the patio. No one knows how long she was there.”

I leaped up from the chair, ready to rush out, when I realized I had a store full of customers. Several women were browsing among the yarn displays and one was flipping through patterns. Not to mention my class …

“Go,” Jacqueline insisted. “I’ll mind the business until you get back. Just go.”

“Can I do anything to help?” Elise asked.

“Me?” That was Bethanne.

“I can stay, too,” Courtney said.

I was overwhelmed by gratitude for their kindness and compassion. “Thank you. Thank you all so much.” These women were more than my customers and my students. They were my friends.

Margaret had her purse by the time I went to collect mine. When I came out of the office, Brad had just arrived with a delivery. He stood near the door.

“We have to leave,” Margaret was telling him as she signed for the yarn. “It’s Mom. She’s been rushed to the hospital.”

He looked at me, frowning with concern. “Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I don’t know anything yet.” I couldn’t control my reaction, my need for comfort, for him. I reached out to Brad. I needed his arms around me one last time, for courage and strength. He seemed to understand that intuitively, and when I moved toward him, he drew me into his embrace.

“We have to go,” Margaret said in a low voice.

He released me, and I thanked him wordlessly, then rushed out of the store.

The staff at Swedish was wonderful, although it took what seemed like hours before we were able to talk to anyone. I berated myself over and over for not being more available to my mother. She was never demanding of my time and grateful for whatever I gave her. I did visit two or three times a week, but clearly that wasn’t enough.

Margaret saw her as often as she could, too. But Mom needed more than scattered visits from her two daughters. I was nearly choking on guilt and so, I suspected, was my sister.

Margaret hated being inside a hospital. It was because of the smell, she said, which immediately made her feel anxious. I’d spent practically my entire youth in one and had grown so accustomed to it that I no longer noticed. Margaret had a firm grip on my arm, and for once she was relying on me.

We were asked to wait in a sitting room until the doctor could update us on Mom’s condition. The chairs were comfortable, and a television was on, playing a soap opera—ironically it was General Hospital. I didn’t pay attention, didn’t hear a single word. My mind whirled with guilt and fear and recriminations. I was certain I’d failed my mother and that everything was somehow my fault.

A physician appeared and, as if our movements were synchronized, Margaret and I stood simultaneously.

The doctor came straight to the point. “Your mother is in serious condition. She’s in a diabetic coma.”

This was a shock to both of us.

“We’ve got her stabilized and I expect her insulin levels to even out, but this is a disease that is not to be taken lightly.”

“No one in the family is diabetic,” Margaret said. “We had no idea Mom could come down with this.”

“She lives alone?”

We both nodded.

Again the physician was straightforward. “Well, I’d suggest you investigate placing her in assisted living.”

He wanted us to take our mother out of the only home she’d known for the last fifty years. I didn’t know if I could do that—but I realized we had no choice.

30

CHAPTER

ELISE BEAUMONT

The house was quiet when the light tap sounded at Elise’s bedroom door. She was waiting for Maverick. She was so in love with this man that she’d lost all sense of propriety. She knew what he was, knew it to the very depths of her heart, but now—just like all those years ago—it didn’t seem to matter.

The knock came, and she opened her door to let him in. He pulled her into his arms and they kissed. They’d made love just once—the night after their excursion into the mountains—and when it was over, they’d both cried, holding each other in the aftermath of passion. Their first sexual reunion had been a combination of excitement, embarrassment, fear and anticipation. They’d felt awkward with each other, but they’d also experienced tenderness and joy. They’d spent most nights together since then, simply holding each other close. After sleeping alone all these years, Elise hadn’t thought it possible to bring a man to her bed, a single bed at that. Anyone seeing them cramped against the wall would’ve found the sight comical, she was sure. She fell asleep in his embrace and then in the early hours of the morning, Maverick slipped back into the boys’ room.

No one was the wiser. At least, not as far as she knew. She suspected David and Aurora had guessed, but neither mentioned it. Elise pretended her daughter was oblivious to the late-night shuffle between Maverick’s room and hers.

“This is silly, you know,” Maverick murmured, pulling back the sheet so they could get into bed together. He let her go first and then followed.

“What’s silly, our being together?” He was right, but she found it alarming that he’d admit it.

“Our being together is the only thing right about this situation,” Maverick insisted in a husky whisper. “What’s wrong is sneaking around in the middle of the night. Good grief, Elise, I’m sixty-six years old. The last time I did this, I was a teenager.”

“Stop!” she said, giggling.

“Don’t tell me you’re accustomed to this.”

“Of course I’m not!”

“Then let me make an honest woman of you.”

Elise slid under the sheets until she was down far enough to rest her head against Maverick’s shoulder. “Are you suggesting we … get married? Again?” While it might sound appealing, she wasn’t convinced that was really the solution.

“Do you want to live in sin?”

“I … I don’t know.” She’d had her freedom for the past thirty years. “Can I think about it?”

“Yes.” He rubbed his leg against hers. “I love you, Elise. I’ve always loved you.”

She believed Maverick did love her, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. If she was a gambling woman, she would’ve bet that, given the opportunity, he’d be back at the gaming tables.

Maverick kissed the top of her head. “I talked to the real estate agent about the apartment complex this afternoon,” he whispered.

He’d left the house after lunch and been gone almost four hours. He never told her where he went, but this wasn’t the first time he’d mysteriously disappeared. Elise had her suspicions, but didn’t press him for details. Some things it was better not to know.

But it was too hard not to say something, not to ask for even a hint. “You were away for a long time,” she murmured.

“I know. You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“Should I be?”

“I wasn’t gambling.”

Elise closed her eyes. She struggled, once again, to take him at his word. Too often, she’d looked the other way rather than confront the truth. It distressed her to realize that nothing had really changed about him—or her—in all these years.

“I swear to you I wasn’t,” he reiterated.

“Okay.” She placed her arm around his middle. He’d been her one folly in life. She knew what he was when she’d married him the first time. Her love hadn’t changed him then and it probably wouldn’t now.

“The deal went through on the condo.”

“Oh.”

“I’m moving in next week.”

She didn’t know how to respond, unwilling to reveal her disappointment or her sudden feeling of loss.

“I’ve stayed longer than I should have,” he whispered. “I never intended to intrude on Aurora and David for more than a couple of weeks.”

He didn’t want to overstay his welcome any more than Elise wanted to burden her daughter and family. But there was nowhere else for her to go. She was beginning to think she might never get her money back. The courts moved so slowly that by the time the case was settled, she’d be dead and buried, she thought cynically.

“I’d like you to move in with me,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper.

“I’m … not sure.” The temptation to give in was stronger than anything she’d felt in years.

“We don’t need to remarry if you don’t want.”

“Do you?” she asked.

“More than you’ll ever know.” He tightened his hold on her. She lay there quietly, comforted by his arms around her, and eventually realized he was asleep.

It was a long time before Elise managed to doze off. In the morning when she woke, he was gone. Aurora was already up and in the kitchen, dressed in her housecoat. Elise poured herself a cup of coffee. She knew David had left for work; he was usually on the road by seven. The house remained quiet. Before long, the boys would be up and so would Maverick. Elise savored these few minutes alone with her daughter.

“Mom,” Aurora said tentatively. “Did you know Dad’s moving?”

Elise nodded. “He told me … last night.” Embarrassed, she kept her back to Aurora as she added cream to her coffee, stirring more than necessary.

“You and Dad seem to be getting along quite well.”

“Uh … We are.”

“It’s all gone so much better than I expected.”

“Yes, but then your father always was a charmer,” Elise said tartly. She turned around and her face heated up at Aurora’s speculative look. “Oh, all right, if you must know, your father and I are sharing a bed.” Elise didn’t understand what possessed her to blurt it out like that. It made their love sound sordid and wrong, when sleeping with Maverick was the most natural thing in the world.

Aurora tried to hide her amusement by taking a sip of coffee. “It’s no secret. David and I guessed right away.”

This was embarrassing. Might as well go for broke. “He wants me to marry him.”

“Will you?”

If she knew the answer to that, she wouldn’t be discussing it with her daughter. “I … I’m not sure what to do. Your father—well, you know your father.”

“I don’t, Mom, not really. I have an image of him, but what Dad’s really like … I guess it’s somewhere between reality and my fantasy.”

“He’s been here all these weeks.”

“Yes,” Aurora said with a deep sigh. “He’s been wonderful with the boys. They adore him and I do, too—but then I always did.”

“I know,” she whispered. There’d been a time when Elise had resented her daughter’s love for her father, but no more. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life,” she confessed. “I don’t want to make another one.”

“Follow your heart, Mom,” Aurora said quietly. “Follow your heart.”

31

CHAPTER

BETHANNE HAMLIN

Bethanne was almost afraid of her newfound happiness. Her fledgling business showed real promise. With every birthday party she designed, she booked two and often three more. But Annie was right. She couldn’t continue to do this without paid employees and additional help. With school starting in a few days, she wouldn’t have any choice but to hire an assistant.

What she needed, according to Paul, was a start-up business loan. He seemed so confident she’d get one that her doubts fell away. Because she’d never established credit on her own or even filled out a loan application, he’d promised to look everything over before she visited the bank.

They were meeting Monday at noon on the Seattle waterfront at Myrtle Edwards Park. She’d packed a thick deli sandwich, fruit and a drink as a small thank-you for his thoughtfulness. She was too nervous to eat and intended to go directly to her local bank following their meeting.

She had a picnic table staked out early and sat there, enjoying the late-summer day. The sun’s reflection on the water made it a deep greenish-blue and the wind off Puget Sound was fresh with the briny scent of the sea. A Washington State ferry could be seen leaving the dock, heading for either Bremerton or the town of Winslow on Bainbridge Island.

Bethanne rarely had reason to take the ferry, but in the painful aftermath of divorce, she’d taken one to Bremerton. She’d stood outside in the coldest, wettest part of the winter, tears streaming down her cheeks. The wind and the rain pummeled her, and she prayed with desperation that she’d catch cold and die because death seemed preferable to this horrible pain. How grateful she was now that her prayer hadn’t been answered. It felt as though the sun was shining on her life these days.

She didn’t see Paul until he stepped up to the table. “You’re certainly preoccupied,” he said with a smile.

“Paul,” she gasped. Impulsively she reached out and hugged him—and was shocked when he wrapped his arms around her. They talked almost every day and saw each other two or three times a week. He’d become her confidant and her friend, and they relied on each other for moral support. She didn’t want that to change, and she’d assumed he understood her feelings. Gently she disengaged herself.

“How’s my favorite party girl?” he teased.

“I’m great—I think.” She’d know more after he reviewed her loan application. “I brought you lunch,” she announced and pointed to the small cooler she’d carried from her car.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he protested, slipping into the seat across from her.

“I know, but I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Like what?”

“Paul, don’t you know?” She couldn’t believe he was unaware of how much he’d helped her in the past few months. He’d been her friend when she’d badly needed one. He’d been a major source of encouragement when she’d started her party business. Most importantly, Paul had showed her she was alive again when the divorce had nearly destroyed her. Paul, and her friends at A Good Yarn, had shaped the new Bethanne. The new, improved Bethanne, with dreams and courage and a promising future. She told him all this, and then couldn’t seem to stop talking.

“Okay, okay.” He laughed and held up both hands. “I didn’t have a clue I was such a hero.”

“You are. You’re my hero.”

He sobered then, the laughter vanishing from his eyes. “And you’re mine.”

The intensity of his look made Bethanne uncomfortable, so she opened the small cooler and brought out the thick corned beef sandwich she’d prepared. “Here, I’ll get this ready while you read over the loan application.”

“Okay,” he said agreeably.

As she set up his lunch, Bethanne noticed that her hands were shaking. The last few times she’d been with Paul, she’d recognized the subtle changes in their relationship. The sexual tension between them was all too evident, and that frightened her more than applying for the bank loan. As much as possible, she wanted to keep this relationship safe. She feared that acting on sexual impulses would ruin the friendship, and Bethanne couldn’t bear that.

She spread out a napkin and peeled the wrap from around the sandwich while Paul scanned the loan application.

“You didn’t work after you were married?” he asked, glancing up.

“Well, I did until Andrew was born. I have it down there.” She pointed out where her previous employment was listed on the application. She’d worked in a boutique, doing the display windows. She’d enjoyed her job for the two years she’d worked there.

“That was more than eighteen years ago.”

“I know, but if you take a look at the volunteer work I’ve done, I think it shows I’m qualified and responsible.”

Paul nodded.

Bethanne relaxed. “Okay, be honest now,” she said. “If you were a bank officer, would you give me the loan?”

His hesitation was enough to make her heart stop. “Paul?”

“You said you wanted me to be honest.”

“Yes.” She wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s going to be a hard sell. There are disadvantages—and advantages. The fact that you’ve never had your own credit is a negative. So is the fact that you haven’t had a paying job in the last eighteen years.”

“What can I do to make the loan application more attractive?” she asked.

“Show the bank your business records for the work you’ve done this summer.”

Bethanne was afraid he’d say that. She wasn’t much good at this sort of thing and really needed to take a class to learn basic accounting. All her receipts were crammed in a shoe-box. Perhaps Andrew and Annie might be able to help. She recalled that her son had taken a bookkeeping class as a junior, but he was so busy these days with football and his part-time job. And now school was starting again.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” That ironic male voice was easily recognizable to Bethanne.

She smiled serenely. “Hello, Grant.”

Her ex-husband stared at Bethanne and Paul. He didn’t look good; his shirt was wrinkled—not badly, but it wasn’t pressed the way she used to do it. Grant had always been meticulous about his appearance. He needed a haircut, and that was another surprise. He used to have regular appointments. Bethanne knew, because she was the one who’d set up those appointments. They’d been apart for two years, so one would think he’d manage to survive without her by now.

“You know Paul, don’t you?” Bethanne said casually, gesturing toward Tiffany’s ex-husband. Paul lowered his sandwich to the napkin, looked up at Grant and nodded.

“I believe we’ve met,” Grant muttered.

“I understand congratulations are in order,” Bethanne said, hoping to cover the awkward silence. “Annie told me you and Tiffany recently got married. Congratulations.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“I hope you’re very happy,” Bethanne said sincerely. A short while ago, those words might have been filled with sarcasm, but they weren’t now. She felt no animosity toward Grant. She’d once loved him, heart and soul, but he’d betrayed that love and whatever she’d felt for him had been destroyed. That didn’t mean—or it no longer did—that she wanted vengeance. Or that she begrudged him happiness just because he hadn’t found it with her. The moment she’d realized that, she’d finally released him and the bitterness that surrounded their divorce.

“I see Paul’s lucky enough to have you packing his lunch these days,” Grant said. He looked longingly at the sandwich. “You made the best corned beef sandwiches I ever tasted.”

“I’m helping Bethanne with some paperwork,” Paul explained.

Bethanne wanted to elaborate, but stopped herself. This really had nothing to do with Grant. Other than the fact that he was the father of her children, they had little in common any more. The twenty-year history they shared had become irrelevant.

“I see.” Grant offered them both a weak smile.

“It’s a lovely afternoon, which is why Paul suggested we meet in the park,” she added.

Grant seemed uncomfortable. “I saw you here and thought I’d drop by and say hello.” He turned to Paul. “Good to see you again.”

Bethanne doubted he really meant that. She studied Grant and instinctively knew he wasn’t happy. “Is everything okay?” she asked and immediately wished she hadn’t. Even if there was a problem, he wasn’t likely to talk about it in front of Paul.

“Everything’s just great,” he said but his words rang hollow.

The two men stared at each other.

“Andrew said you paid for his football camp.” Grant turned his attention back to her.

Bethanne hadn’t realized Andrew was speaking to his father. This was a good sign, and she was encouraged that father and son had made an effort to overcome their differences.

“You challenged me to find a way to support myself,” Bethanne said with a laugh, “and I have. If nothing else, I should thank you for that.”

He nodded as if accepting her appreciation. “I’m glad it’s working out for you,” he said without irony.

“It is.” She tried to resist the urge to brag but didn’t quite succeed. “I have six parties booked for this week and more calls coming in every day. Annie and a friend of hers created business cards for me, and the kids have been my assistants.”

“Great. A family effort.”

“In more ways than one.”

“I wish you every success,” Grant said. Without another word, he walked away.

Paul glared after him.

“Paul, Paul, Paul,” she whispered and touched his arm. “You’ve got to let it go.”

He sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can and you will,” she assured him. “It just takes time.”

He relaxed somewhat, but Bethanne could see he was still agitated by the encounter.

“The only reason I believe it’s possible,” he said thoughtfully, “is because I see it in you. Did I ever mention how much I admire you?”

She grinned. “Once or twice.”

“I’m afraid this will upset you, Bethanne, but it’s the truth—I’m falling in love with you.” He reached for her hand.

Bethanne closed her eyes. She loved Paul, but not in that way.

This was something she didn’t want—or need.

32

CHAPTER

ELISE BEAUMONT

Now that Maverick was living in his condominium, Elise missed him. She’d made the difficult decision to remain where she was for now, but she was miserable without Maverick. She missed everything about him. It’d been that way after the divorce, too. The scent of him, the feel of him, the incredible joy of watching him with their infant daughter …

The ache inside her seemed to grow day by day. And yet it wasn’t as if she didn’t see him. Maverick was at the house almost daily for one reason or another. Each and every visit, he attempted to lure her to his home, to convince her he was a changed man and that she could trust him. So far she’d resisted, but her resolve was weakening. She could feel it crack under the pressure of her own needs, but she dared not give in.