Blossom Street Bundle

Barbie had met Ellen at the bookstore the day before, when she’d come in to buy a couple of romances. The child was sweet and unpretentious; she obviously idolized Anne Marie and was completely in love with her dog, Baxter. Barbie had watched with some amusement as Ellen struggled to teach the Yorkie to roll over, with no success.

Ellen was joining them for the St. Patrick’s Day concert that afternoon. When Barbie met her and Anne Marie at the bookstore shortly after twelve, they were ready and waiting.

“Where are we going?” the little girl asked, fastening the buttons on her light-green coat, which looked brand-new. Thankfully it wasn’t raining; that was good news, since March was notorious for drizzle in the Pacific Northwest.

“We’re attending a concert with Irish music,” Anne Marie explained to the youngster. “Then afterward we’re visiting my mother in Ballard.”

“Will we visit Grandma Dolores, too?”

“Sure thing.” Anne Marie buttoned up her own jacket. “Right after we see my mother.”

The child nodded thoughtfully. “What’s Irish music sound like?”

Anne Marie hesitated. “Well, it’s usually pretty fast and…” She shrugged, and Barbie laughed as she gave up trying to describe it. “Just wait. You’ll hear it soon enough.”

“Will I like it?” Ellen asked, tilting her head curiously.

“I do,” Anne Marie told her. “I like it a lot.”

Ellen nodded firmly. “Then I will, too.”

Because Freeway Park was relatively close to Blossom Street, they decided to walk. The air was crisp, the sky clear and bright. They moved at a slow pace to accommodate Ellen’s shorter steps. Barbie noticed that the child took in everything around her with huge inquisitive eyes.

When they reached Freeway Park, above Interstate 5, it was already crowded. Finding a spot to sit was difficult, although they eventually did when a couple of teenagers were kind enough to share their space. Anne Marie had remembered to bring a blanket, which she smoothed out on the grass. A platform had been built for the performance, and they had a good view of the stage.

Ellen sat cross-legged on the blanket. Barbie and Anne Marie arranged themselves close to her. Barbie hadn’t done anything like this since before she’d lost Gary. It reminded her of family expeditions when the kids were little, and she felt a quiet joy, an awareness that she could be happy again.

After the accident, her primary concern had been for her children. Now that they were away at school, she was no longer insulated from the pain and the loss. It was this same loss she sensed in Mark Bassett, and one reason she was so drawn to him.

For her mother, widowhood had been a different story. They’d never really discussed it, but Barbie knew about her father’s indiscretions. Lillie had chosen to ignore them. And because her mother said nothing, Barbie didn’t, either. She knew that Lillie grieved for David. She’d loved him, but in some ways Barbie thought his death might have been a release for her mother—although she’d never so much as hint at such a thing.

“When will it start?” Ellen asked after sitting quietly for several minutes.

“Soon.”

“Are you hungry?” Barbie asked.

The girl shook her head and tucked her hands beneath her thighs.

There was festive chatter all around them; everyone seemed to be in a cheerful mood, exchanging greetings, laughing, talking.

“Ellen likes to sing,” Anne Marie told her.

“Do you?” Barbie asked, turning to the child.

At the question, Ellen’s face grew red. “Anne Marie says I’m a good singer. She heard me sing in the school play.” The child obviously put great stock in the compliment.

“Maybe Anne Marie can teach you a few Irish songs,” Barbie suggested.

A look of such profound sadness flashed into her friend’s eyes that Barbie instantly placed her hand on Anne Marie’s forearm.

“I used to sing, but I don’t anymore. I…can’t,” Anne Marie mumbled, staring down at the blanket. “I lost my voice after Robert died.… I thought it would return, but it hasn’t yet.”

“I’m sorry.” Barbie felt she had to apologize because it so clearly upset her friend.

“No, no. I mean, for heaven’s sake, it’s not your fault.” Recovering quickly, Anne Marie dismissed her concern with a quick shake of her head.

Ellen gazed up at her, frowning. “I didn’t know you can’t sing.”

“Don’t worry, Ellen,” Anne Marie murmured. “I will again.”

Because Ellen was restless and maybe because Anne Marie wanted to change the subject, the two of them went for a short walk around the park before the music started. As they left, Barbie saw that the little girl stuck close to Anne Marie’s side. Being with so many people was probably overwhelming for a child. Barbie had to credit her friend; it couldn’t have been easy to bring this child into her home, even for a short while.

In fact, Barbie thought Anne Marie seemed softer now, less cynical and more open. Being with such a vulnerable child, having to take responsibility for her, meant that Anne Marie was less focused on her own sorrows. Wasn’t that what Elise kept saying? Doing something for someone else made you feel better about yourself.

The group of Irish singers was introduced, and the crowd instantly broke into applause. Ellen and Anne Marie hurried back to the blanket just as the performance began.

The singers, the fiddlers and dancers were thrilling, and Barbie loved every minute. The music was infectious. And the dancing—it was so vigorous, yet disciplined, too. Ellen sat through the entire hour mesmerized. She seemed to absorb the music, every note of it. When the performance was over, her face glowed.

“That was so good,” she said, looking atAnne Marie and Barbie. “I want to sing like that someday. Do you think I can?” she asked plaintively.

“Yes,” Anne Marie told her in a confident voice. “I’m sure you can.”

People had started to leave the park. The exodus was slow moving, but Barbie wasn’t in any hurry. Besides, her feet hurt. That was what she got for wearing designer shoes; she’d chosen them because they were the perfect complement to her black linen pants and green silk blouse. The sun warmed the day, and she’d left her raincoat open, the belt dangling at her sides.

As she and Anne Marie waited patiently for the crowd to thin, Barbie saw a flash of chrome from the corner of her eye. She turned to look and then caught her breath. She grabbed Anne Marie’s elbow.

“It’s him.…” She could barely get the words out. Feeling self-conscious, she dropped her hand.

“Who?” Anne Marie asked.

Barbie couldn’t tell her because she hadn’t told anyone about her attraction to Mark Bassett, the man in the wheelchair. She looked again, just to be sure. He was alone, or appeared to be, apparently waiting for the crowd to disperse. Maneuvering his wheelchair would be difficult with so many people pressing in around him.

“You know someone here?”

“Not really.” Barbie tried to calm the wild beating of her heart. This was an unexpected surprise, a bonus. She was pleased now that she’d taken care with her outfit and makeup.

If Mark had seen her—and she couldn’t tell either way—he refused to acknowledge her. Barbie bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from raising her hand and calling out to him.

“Do you know that guy in the wheelchair?” Anne Marie asked.

“I…not exactly. I bumped into him recently.” She didn’t mention the part about emptying her soda in his lap.

“He’s certainly a striking man.”

He was. Barbie had trouble taking her eyes off him. The crowd had mostly disappeared by then and only a few stragglers remained.

“Can we go see Grandma Dolores soon?” Ellen asked.

Anne Marie smiled at the girl. “After we visit my mom, okay?”

Her patience with Ellen impressed Barbie.

“I think I’d better head out,” Anne Marie said, glancing down at her watch. “We’re meeting my mother for a late lunch, and after that we’re going to the hospital.”

“Of course, no problem,” Barbie told her. “I’ve got plans myself.”

They left, which worked out well because now she was free to confront Mark. Barbie didn’t have a single idea as to what she’d do or say once she reached him. She’d figure that out when the time came.

He’d managed to leave Freeway Park and was moving steadily down the sidewalk. Barbie raced after him, having some difficulty with her shoes. “Hello, again,” she called out cheerfully.

He ignored her.

“Remember me?”

At her second attempt, Mark spun his wheelchair around. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to enjoy the music, just like everyone else.”

“I didn’t know there’d be a concert,” he grumbled.

“In other words, you wouldn’t have come if you had.”

“Right.”

“But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“No.”

Barbie didn’t understand him—and she didn’t believe he hadn’t been affected by the music. “Why are you such a grouch?” she asked.

“I like being a grouch.”

“Yes, Oscar.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street.” Her sons had often watched it when they were young. She planted herself directly in front of his wheelchair, blocking him off.

He wasn’t amused.

She’d never been so rude in her life, but Barbie wasn’t about to let him escape.

“What is it you want?” he demanded.

Now that he’d asked, she wasn’t entirely sure. To get his attention, yes, but she couldn’t admit that. “To talk, I guess.”

He tried to wheel around her, but once again she hindered his progress. “I’m not interested in talking, nor am I the least bit interested in you.”

Barbie sighed deeply. “That is so refreshing.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She smiled down at him. “You wouldn’t believe how many guys constantly hit on me. Not you, though, and yet we seem to like the same movies. You know, we might actually have something in common.”

He wagged his index finger at her. “I’m on to your game. You and Tessa are in cahoots—you have to be. That’s how you knew which movie I’d be watching last week. Well, that won’t happen again.”

Barbie felt her blood surge with excitement. “I wouldn’t count on it. You can’t tell me which movie to see or not to see.”

He scowled back at her. “Don’t count on me being there.”

“That’s no guarantee we won’t bump into each other somewhere else,” Barbie said, changing tactics. “We met here, didn’t we? I think it must be fate.”

“I think it’s bad luck.”

“Oh, Mark, honestly.”

His scowl grew darker.

“Your niece seems fond of you,” Barbie said conversationally.

His hands were on the wheels of his chair. “I’d like to get out of here if you don’t mind.”

“I wanted to talk, remember?”

“I don’t.”

“Fine.” She raised both hands in a gesture of defeat. “Have it your way.”

“Thank you,” Mark said gruffly and as soon as she stepped aside, he wheeled past her.

Despite his dismissive tone, Barbie followed him. “Can I ask you something?” she began.

Mark disregarded her, apparently a habit of his. His speed was surprising and in an effort to catch up with him, Barbie was nearly trotting. Her heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk and she went flying forward, landing hard on her hands and knees.

“Damn!” she cried at the sudden sharp pain. Momentarily stunned, she sat back and brushed the grit from her hands. Blood seeped through her pants and tears smarted her eyes.

Mark stopped, then reluctantly spun around to face her. “What happened?” he asked, none too sympathetically.

“I tripped.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Yes. Look, there’s blood.”

“Should I call 911?”

He was making fun of her, but Barbie didn’t care. She peeled up her pant leg to examine her knee.

“That’s what you get for wearing those ridiculous shoes.”

She let the insult pass.

“Do you need help getting up?”

“No, I can manage.” When she scrambled to her feet, she discovered that she’d broken the heel off her left shoe. “Would you look at this?” she cried. “If you knew what I paid for these shoes, you’d be as outraged as I am.”

“Next time don’t go chasing after me,” he said. “I’m not interested, understand?”

“Okay, fine,” she snapped.

“Fine with me, too.” He started to roll away from her.

Barbie sniffled and limped off. She’d made an idiot of herself and now she was paying the price. So much for this supposed bond between them. He wanted nothing to do with her. Well, she got his message, loud and clear.

Her progress was slow with her knee aching and her broken shoe.

“Miss, Miss.”

Barbie turned to find a woman with a first aid kit in her hand. “I heard that you fell.”

“Who told you?”

“A man in a wheelchair stopped in my store and said you might need help.”

“Really.” So Mark wasn’t as hard-edged as he’d like her to believe. He was concerned about her but he didn’t want to show it. “I’m okay. My pride hurts a lot more than my knee. It was my own fault.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you?”

Barbie thanked the woman with a smile. “I think I’ll just go home.” She’d call her mother for sympathy and then have a cup of hot tea.

“The man told me you’d probably say that. If you’ll sit down, I’ll take a look at your knee.”

“I don’t suppose you have any glue, do you?” she asked, holding up her broken shoe.

“No, sorry.”

Barbie thanked her again and left, hobbling back to Blossom Street, where she’d parked her car. The injury to her knee was nothing more than a scrape but the blow to her pride would take much longer to heal.

Her one consolation was the fact that, despite everything, Mark had sent someone to check on her. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. A tiny fracture in his resistance. It gave her hope.

By Monday evening, Barbie’s knee was healing nicely. Although she didn’t need to, she wore a huge bandage over it and a short skirt, short enough to reveal her bandaged knee.

Tessa was at the ticket window when Barbie approached.

“So, which movie should I see?” Barbie asked, the same as she had the week before.

Tessa’s dark brown eyes searched hers. “He isn’t here.”

“You mean not yet, right?”

“Uncle Mark’s not coming, period.”

“Why not?” Barbie couldn’t have disguised her disappointment if she’d wanted to.

“He figured out that I was the one feeding you information.” Tessa sounded as disgruntled as Barbie felt.

Because she was holding up the line, Barbie stepped aside until there was a break.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa murmured. “He told me he won’t be coming to the movies again and that I should make sure you knew it.”

“Oh,” Barbie murmured. “Do you see him outside the movies very often?”

Tessa shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Next time you do, tell him I think he’s a coward.”

Tessa’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am,” Barbie insisted. “Tell him that for me.”

She purchased her ticket, plus popcorn and a soda. Although she sat through the entire movie, she couldn’t remember a single scene.

Chapter 14

Monday evening Anne Marie put a meat-loaf-and-potato casserole in the oven. It was a favorite recipe of her mother’s and one she hadn’t made in years. The meat mixture baked with sliced raw potatoes, both covered in tomato sauce. Anne Marie had liked it when she was around Ellen’s age and she hoped Ellen would, too.

As she closed the oven door, she noticed Ellen approaching the large oak desk where she kept the scrapbooking materials for her Twenty Wishes book.

“What’s this?” Ellen asked, looking over her shoulder.

“My Twenty Wishes.”

“Twenty Wishes,” the girl repeated. “What are those?”

“Well, on Valentine’s Day, my friends and I had a small party. We started talking about all the things we’d wished for in our lives and then we each decided to make a list.”

“Just twenty?”

Anne Marie laughed. So far, coming up with twenty had been hard enough, and in fact, she was only halfway there. “This is fine for now. I’ll think of more later on,” she said. “In fact, I’m still working on my first twenty.” She had a total of nine: the five she’d written earlier, plus her most recent additions.

6. Find a reason to laugh

7. Sing again

8. Purchase a home for me and Baxter

9. Attend a Broadway musical and learn all the songs by heart

She was considering a line dancing class, which was a wish she’d erased earlier. The St. Patrick’s Day performance had inspired her interest in dancing again.

“The wishes don’t need to be practical,” Anne Marie went on to explain. “That’s why they’re called wishes instead of resolutions or goals.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t necessarily expect them all to happen.”

“If you don’t expect them to happen,” Ellen asked, regarding her quizzically, “then why are you writing them down?”

“Because they’re wishes,” Anne Marie said. Finding a pen, she added a wish she’d erased two or three times.

10. Travel to Paris with someone I love

That encompassed the essence of what she sought—love, adventure, new experiences.

Ellen stared down at the recently entered wish. “Can anyone make a list like this?”

“Of course.” Anne Marie set the timer on the oven. They’d gotten into a routine, the two of them, during the past five days. It felt as if Ellen had been with her much longer. One obvious difference in her life was that Anne Marie now regularly cooked dinner.

Ever since she’d started living alone, she’d fallen into the habit of grabbing something quick and easy or skipping dinner altogether, which she could ill afford to do. But Ellen needed regular nutritious meals and a daily structure. With everything else in the girl’s life in upheaval, Anne Marie could at least offer her that.

The phone rang and Anne Marie picked it up immediately before Call Display could even register the number. She was expecting to hear from Elise, whom she’d been trying to reach all afternoon. “Hello.” She figured Elise wanted to share her news, which Anne Marie had already heard via the neighborhood grapevine. Elise had taken a part-time job working for Lydia at A Good Yarn.

“Anne Marie, it’s Brandon.”

“Brandon! It’s great to hear from you,” she said with genuine pleasure.

“I’ve been meaning to call you for a couple of weeks,” he went on. “Melissa told me what she did. I can’t believe my sister sometimes. And as for my father…”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” That was mostly true.

“You’re sure?” Brandon pressed. “To be fair to Melissa, I doubt she realized how hard you’d take that business about Dad. And she was pretty devastated herself.”

“Really, it’s okay,” Anne Marie lied, brushing off his concern. The last thing she wanted was to talk about her husband’s indiscretion—or even think about it. She felt a rush of pain whenever she remembered and constantly guarded herself against the image of Robert with Rebecca. In his office, on the couch…

“You’re sure?” he asked again. He didn’t seem convinced.

“Yes. Positive.” As much as possible she made light of the incident.

Her stepson hesitated a moment, then blurted out, “Let me take you to dinner tonight. I know it’s short notice, but we could talk and—”

“I can’t.” She hoped he’d take her at her word, not force her to explain.

“Why not?” Brandon’s voice fell with disappointment.

“I have a visitor.”

Her announcement was met with a short silence. “Anne Marie, are you seeing someone?” he asked somberly.

“No, of course not!” The question amused her. “Melissa asked me the same thing.”

“Of course not? Why say it like that? You’re young and beautiful and—”

“I’m with a…friend.”

“Ah, the mystery intensifies.”

“It’s not a mystery,” she said, smiling at his teasing banter. “It’s Ellen. She’s eight and she’s living with me for the next week or two.”

“You have an eight-year-old living with you? Is she a relative of yours?”

“No, I met her through a nearby school—the Lunch Buddies program. Why don’t you join us?” she said impulsively. “I just put a casserole in the oven and it won’t be ready for another forty minutes.”

“You made dinner?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I did a lot of cooking in my time.”

“Okay, I’d like that. Thanks. Give me a few minutes to finish up here and I’ll drive straight over. You’re still living above the bookstore, right?”

“For now.” She really did hope to purchase a house, and soon. Spring, especially May and June, were the best months to look. As soon as Ellen was back with her grandmother, Anne Marie had every intention of beginning her search.

“Brandon, one thing…Melissa’s and my conversation…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to discuss it, all right?”

He hesitated. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” she told him, keeping her voice firm.

Anne Marie hung up the phone and turned around to discover Ellen perched on a chair at the kitchen table, staring blankly into space. She had the end of a pencil clamped between her teeth.

“Are you doing your homework?” Anne Marie asked.

Ellen shook her head. “I’m making a list of Twenty Wishes.”

“Oh, really?”

Ellen nodded. “Do you want to hear what I have so far?”

“I would.” Anne Marie pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.

“One,” Ellen announced with great formality. “Plant a garden.”

“What kind of garden?”

“Flowers,” Ellen said. “I read the book you gave me about that garden, remember?”

Anne Marie smiled approvingly. Of course. On Sunday she’d given her a copy of the Edwardian children’s classic, The Secret Garden. Ellen was an advanced reader and had no difficulty with comprehension. Occasionally she’d asked about the meaning of a word. She’d loved the idea of the walled garden, hidden from the world, and had instantly identified with the story’s orphaned young heroine.

“Is there any other kind of garden than flowers?”

“Vegetables.”

“You can grow tomatoes?” Ellen asked in an excited voice. “I like tomatoes a lot, especially when they’re warm from the sun. I like them with salt.”

Anne Marie looked at her curiously. “Did you ever have a garden before?”

Ellen lowered her gaze. “No… Grandma Dolores told me about warm tomatoes with salt. I’ve never had one but I know they’d be really good because my grandma said so.”

“I like tomatoes, too.” Anne Marie closed her eyes at the memory of working in her garden at the house she and Robert had owned. The smell of earth, the sun warm on her back… “Last summer I grew tomatoes right here, on my balcony.”

The child seemed thoroughly confused by that.

“It was a container garden because I didn’t have anywhere to plant an actual garden.”

“What about corn?”

“That might be a challenge, but I’ll check into it. If you like, we can plant seeds in egg cartons and then once your grandmother’s home again, I’ll help you clear a small space in her yard for your very own garden.”

“Really?” The girl’s face shone with uncomplicated joy. “A garden,” she breathed.

“Anything else on your list?”

Ellen nodded. “I want to bake cookies with Grandma Dolores.” “I bet she’d like that.”

“She always said we could, but then she’d get tired or she wouldn’t be feeling well and we never got to do it.”

Anne Marie slipped her arm around Ellen’s shoulders. “When your grandmother’s back from the hospital, she’ll be feeling much better and have a lot more energy, and I’m sure she’ll want to bake cookies with you then.”

“Oatmeal and raisin are my favorites.” Ellen set the pencil down. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”