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“Yes! We move August first.” The house was in a good neighborhood close to Woodrow Wilson Elementary, which meant Ellen wouldn’t need to change schools. With all the upheaval in the child’s life, Anne Marie had wanted to keep her there.
“I’ll have a real bedroom, too,” Ellen inserted.
“And a real bed,” Anne Marie said. Ellen hadn’t complained once about sleeping on the fold-down sofa in the tiny apartment. One of her first purchases would be a bedroom set for Ellen, with a matching dresser, bookcase and computer desk.
She looked forward to getting her own things out of storage. She’d delayed for a long time, preferring to live in the small apartment rather than move. Her fear was that the household goods that had belonged to her and Robert would trigger too many memories.
A few months ago, Anne Marie hadn’t felt strong enough to deal with the past. Her grief had been too raw, too close to the surface. She’d purposely kept the furniture in storage, convinced she’d never find the courage to sit at the table where she’d shared so many meals with her husband. Every item, everything she’d so carefully packed away, was linked to Robert.
But the memories of her life with him no longer tormented her. Even knowing of his betrayal, she continued to love him and always would.
Michael and Melissa ceremonially cut the first slice of cake, and Melissa beckoned to Ellen.
“Can I serve cake now?” Ellen asked, eyeing the slices Melissa’s friends were placing on colorful plates. “Is it time?”
“Looks like it,” Brandon said. They stood up and headed for the table, where the plates had been set out.
“Aren’t you going to throw the bouquet?” Alicia, the maid of honor, asked Melissa.
“Oh, my goodness, I almost forgot.” Melissa turned her back to her group of friends and hurled the bouquet over her shoulder.
Anne Marie hadn’t been part of that group. She didn’t mean to participate, but when the bouquet shot directly at her, she instinctively grabbed it.
“Anne Marie!” Melissa cried, laughing delightedly. “You caught the bouquet!”
Ellen squealed with excitement, a plate of cake in each hand.
“This means,” Melissa told her, “that Anne Marie will be the next one to get married.”
“I don’t think so.” Anne Marie tried to pass the bouquet to one of Melissa’s college friends, who refused to take it.
“Don’t be so sure,” Melissa chided good-naturedly. “You never know when love’s going to tap on the door.”
Frankly, Anne Marie wasn’t interested in falling in love again. She had everything she needed for happiness. Ellen was part of her life now, and she’d made peace with the past. She had Blossom Street Books. Her eyes fell on Lillie and Hector, and she immediately added dear friends to her list of blessings.
“Look,” Ellen said, tugging at her sleeve. She pointed at the French doors.
Music swirled in from the piano player in the nearby bar.
Anne Marie bent down. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“It’s raining.”
It was more of a mist than rain but Anne Marie didn’t point that out. “Yes?”
“Your wish,” Ellen reminded her.
What wish?
Then Anne Marie remembered.
Taking Ellen’s hand, she walked out to the small patio. With the music playing softly in the background, they removed their shoes and stepped onto the wet grass.
Ellen slipped one arm around Anne Marie’s waist and together they spun ’round and ’round.
“We’re dancing barefoot in the rain.” Ellen giggled.
Throwing back her head, Anne Marie giggled, too.
The music grew louder and their movements became more sweeping as the rain fell and people gathered at the open doors to watch them.
She saw Brandon giving them a thumbs-up and Michael and Melissa waving. Lillie and Hector smiled.
Anne Marie Roche had made Twenty Wishes and they’d brought her love.
Epilogue
November
The courtroom was crowded as Anne Marie and Ellen waited patiently for their turn to come and stand before the judge. When their names were called, Anne Marie stepped forward with Ellen beside her. Evelyn Boyle, Ellen’s social worker, moved to the front of the court.
Judge Harold Roper read over the paperwork, which included a home study and background check. This was actually a formality; Child Protective Services had already approved the adoption. The six months had passed quickly. They’d moved into their new home, and Ellen was a third-grader now, getting top marks in her classes.
“So, Ellen, you’re going to have a new mother,” Judge Roper said.
“Yes, Judge,” Ellen answered politely.
“Your Honor,” Anne Marie whispered.
“Your Honor,” Ellen repeated.
She placed her hand in Anne Marie’s and edged closer to her side.
“Congratulations,” the judge said and signed his name at the bottom of the document.
“That’s all there is?” Ellen asked in a whisper.
Anne Marie was surprised herself. “Apparently so.”
Anne Marie’s mother wept noisily at the back of the courtroom. The next name was called, and Anne Marie and Ellen hugged and left the room. Laura Bostwick continued to sob, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue as they walked out into the hallway. The heavy door closed behind them.
“Are you sure you can’t come to the party, Mom?” Anne Marie asked.
“I’ll come by later if that’s okay.”
“Of course. I want you to meet my friends.”
Catching her off guard, Laura awkwardly hugged Anne Marie. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“My name is Ellen Roche,” Ellen announced to a guard who strolled past.
“That’s a nice name,” the uniformed man told her.
“Ellen Dolores Roche,” she said. “Dolores was my grandmother’s name. She’s with Jesus now.”
The man smiled at Anne Marie and kept on walking.
“This is my new mother,” Ellen called after him. “She loves me a lot.”
“Ellen,” Anne Marie murmured. “He’s busy.”
“I just wanted to tell someone I have a new name,” she whispered, lowering her head.
“Would you like to tell Barbie and Mark?”
The girl nodded eagerly. “Lillie and Hector, too?”
“They’ll all be at the party.”
“What about Mrs. Beaumont and Lydia and Cody and all my friends from Blossom Street?”
“They wouldn’t miss it.”
“Melissa and Michael, too?”
“Yes.” This shouldn’t be news to Ellen, who knew all about the party at Blossom Street Books after court.
But Anne Marie understood. Ellen was happy and excited, and she had to express that happiness. She mattered to all these people, belonged to their community as Anne Marie did. Her daughter… Anne Marie’s mind came to a sudden halt.
Ellen was her daughter.
Her daughter.
Unexpected tears gathered in her eyes.
“Anne Marie?” Instantly Ellen was concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yes—I’m just happy.”
“Like Grandma Laura?” she asked.
Anne Marie squeezed her hand. “Just like Grandma Laura.”
By the time they got to the bookstore, it seemed the entire street was there to celebrate. Susannah from the flower shop had come, but could only stay briefly. She brought a number of small floral bouquets to commemorate the adoption and a pretty pink corsage for each of them to wear.
Soon after their arrival, Alix Turner carried in a tray of freshly baked cookies, compliments of the French Café. Lydia and her sister, Margaret, came over in turns, so as not to leave the store unattended. They’d brought several bottles of champagne for the adults—Veuve Clicquot, of course—and sparkling lemonade for the kids. Lydia’s husband, Brad, dropped in later, bringing their son, Cody. Michael and a heavily pregnant Melissa showed up, too, and Ellen was doubly excited.
“It’s going to be a girl, right?”
“Right.”
“Can I be her big sister?”
“I’m counting on it,” Melissa said. She was due anytime and Michael remained close to her side. They didn’t stay long as they had a birthing class to attend, their final one before her due date.
Theresa, Cathy and Steve, her part-time employees, helped serve, and Ellen mingled with the crowd, reminding everyone that she had a new name and a new mother.
Late in the afternoon, both Evelyn Boyle and Anne Marie’s mother stopped by, but could only stay for a few minutes.
“We were thinking of holding a mommy shower for you,” Barbie said around five o’clock. Almost everyone had come and gone by this point. The ones who remained were the original members of the widows’ group—with the addition of Mark and Hector. It was hard to believe nearly a year had passed since that bleak Valentine’s evening, when they’d started their lists of Twenty Wishes.
She’d completed her list last spring.
19. Karate classes with Ellen
20. To live happily ever after
Twenty wishes, nearly all of them a reality now.
Anne Marie had found a pair of red cowboy boots in a secondhand store for a fraction of the cost. They fit perfectly and she wore them often.
Then one Sunday in July, shortly after Anne Marie had begun attending church with Ellen, she’d spontaneously sung a hymn. She was well into the second verse before she remembered that she couldn’t sing anymore and yet here she was…. Now not a day went by without her belting out one song after another.
Anne Marie’s gaze fell on Barbie, who sat next to Mark, holding his hand.
Anne Marie had met him only half a dozen times, but Barbie had spoken of him often enough to make her feel as if she knew him.
“When we made our lists of wishes, did you ever dream it would come to this?” Elise asked, joining the circle of friends.
“We haven’t talked about our lists recently,” Lillie said, sitting in the overstuffed chair with Hector standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “Has anyone completed any wishes lately?”
“I have,” Elise said, looking down at her plastic glass of champagne. “I’ve set up a charitable foundation in memory of Maverick.”
“Elise, that’s wonderful!”
The older woman struggled to hide her emotion. “That’s not all. I took my two grandsons on a hot-air balloon ride. That was something Maverick and I always intended to do. We put it off—and then it was too late.”
“Was it as exciting as you thought it would be?” Anne Marie asked.
Elise smiled warmly. “Even better than I imagined. When I closed my eyes, I could almost feel Maverick’s arms around me again,” she said in a low voice. “It was the most thrilling sensation to be that high above the ground. He would’ve loved it.”
“I completed one of my wishes, too,” Barbie volunteered.
“Which one?” Lillie asked.
Eyes dancing, she glanced at Mark. “I went skinny-dipping.”
