Summer on Blossom Street
“She didn’t though, right?”
“No, she didn’t, and I’m grateful.”
Casey sat up a little straighter. “So, like you said, everyone makes mistakes?”
“Yeah. What’s important is the lessons we learn from them. You were telling me Lydia showed you where she kept the larger casserole dish so you’d know which one to use next time.”
“Yeah.”
“So when you decide to cook again, you’ll use the bigger dish.”
“Of course.”
“See? Lesson learned.”
Casey gave her a wry smile and shrugged. “Besides, I don’t like cleaning ovens. It’s hard work, even if the oven’s supposed to be self-cleaning.”
“Which is precisely my point,” Alix said. “Jordan always says that failure offers us an opportunity to learn and to grow.” She grinned. “The trick is not to make the same mistake twice.” From experience, including that week’s baking calamities, Alix knew it was a lot easier said than done.
Casey brightened. “If I ever put price stickers on yarn again, I’ll double-check to make sure the right price is on the right skein.”
Alix patted the other girl’s shoulder. “Exactly. See what I mean?”
“Cody makes mistakes, too. Only they aren’t as big as mine.”
Casey said with a half smile.
“That’s because he’s younger than you. The mistakes get bigger as we get older.”
“That makes sense,” Casey agreed. “Breaking a glass when he’s setting the table isn’t as bad as ruining a whole dinner.”
“You’re pretty smart for a kid,” Alix teased. Gripping the chain with both hands, Casey started to swing higher. “I feel better.”
“Good.” For that matter, so did Alix.
“I bet you’ll make a great mom.”
Great mom. Great mom. The words repeated themselves in Alix’s mind like a chant—or a prayer. “You think so?” she asked, unable to disguise her uncertainty.
“Yeah.” Casey pushed herself higher on the swing. “Lydia told me you’re quitting cigarettes so you and Jordan can get pregnant.”
Unable to respond because of the lump clogging her throat, Alix simply nodded.
Their short conversation was the turning point in Alix’s day. When she returned to work, she went to see Winter immediately.
“Yes?” her employer asked, looking up from her computer.
“I wanted to thank you for letting me keep my job,” Alix said.
“I love working here and I’m grateful that you’re willing to forgive my crappy mood.”
Winter smiled. “You’re welcome, Alix. Except for this week, you’ve been a wonderful employee.”
“That’s not going to change,” Alix told her fervently. That afternoon, Alix could hardly wait to get home. On the bus ride, she tapped her foot nervously, the events of the afternoon tumbling through her mind. Once she got to the lake house, she picked fresh lettuce from their small garden patch and made a Cobb salad, a favorite of Jordan’s. When she’d f inished preparing the salad, she put it in the refrigerator, then set the table outside. After that, she lay in the hammock with a book and fell asleep in the late-afternoon sunshine, waiting for Jordan.
The sound of the front door opening woke her. For a moment she was disoriented and then she knew—her husband was home.
“Alix?” Jordan called out.
“Jordan!” Alix rushed into the house toward him, catapulting herself into his arms. Before he could say a word, she spread eager kisses across his face, her lips moving from his eyes and cheeks and nose before settling on his lips.
Jordan grabbed her by the waist and staggered backward until he was leaning against the kitchen wall.
Alix wrapped her legs around his and hungrily kissed him again. She lifted her head and smiled at him.
“What’s this all about?” Jordan asked, his voice rough with longing. “Not that I’m complaining…”
“I’m going to be a good mother. A great one.”
“Yes, I know,” he said without hesitation. He supported the back of her head and returned her mouth to his for another series of deep, soul-f illed kisses.
She gasped when the last kiss ended. Her lips remained close to his, so that she breathed his breath and he breathed hers. He kissed her again, then asked, “What happened to convince you?”
Alix pressed her head to his shoulder. “Do you want to talk all night or do you want to make a baby?”
Jordan chuckled and scooped her up, Alix’s arms around his neck. As he started toward their bedroom, he said, “That’s a ridiculous question if I ever heard one,” and her laughter joined his.
Chapter 34
Anne Marie Roche
Ellen’s cast had been on for nearly a week and Tim had come by every afternoon to check on her. Vanessa hadn’t accompanied him even once, which was just as well, considering the scene at the hospital. Anne Marie avoided mentioning the other woman’s name and so did Tim.
Ellen’s arm had stopped hurting and she thrived on the extra attention. Anne Marie had to ask Tim to stop bringing gifts. Ellen had so many stuffed animals now, there was no space in her bedroom for more.
“Soon.”
“Does he know you have a hot date?”
The urge to roll her eyes was nearly overwhelming. Barbie and Mark had arranged for her to meet a friend of Mark’s; Barbie had made the mistake of referring to the evening as a “hot date” in Ellen’s presence. Ellen, of course, had picked up on the term and used it ever since.
“I didn’t tell him where I was going, no,” Anne Marie said. When she’d told him she had an appointment Friday evening, Tim had quickly offered to stay with Ellen. Foolishly, perhaps, Anne Marie had accepted. Her mother would gladly have had Ellen over for the night, but that would’ve entailed driving. It was simpler this way.
Tim genuinely loved Ellen. If Anne Marie had ever doubted that, he’d proved his feelings for the child the day Ellen broke her arm. He’d been as pale as a bleached sheet when he realized what had happened and he’d blamed himself. He’d been vigilant, almost excessively so, ever since.
“Can I tell him?” Ellen asked.
“Ah…” Anne Marie hesitated, preferring he not be told where she was going. It wasn’t any of his business.
“Tell who what?” Barbie asked as she stepped into the bookstore. Mark followed in his wheelchair.
“My dad,” Ellen said.
“Tim’s staying with Ellen while I’m out this evening,” Anne Marie explained.
“On a hot date,” her daughter added with emphasis on the hot. She attached the leash to Baxter’s collar and after hugging both Barbie and Mark, shot out the door, taking Baxter for his afternoon stroll down Blossom Street.
“Hot date, huh?” Mark said once Ellen was halfway down the block.
Anne Marie pretended to be upset with him. “That’s what she calls it, thanks to you two.”
“Just wait till you meet Mel,” Barbie said with a wink. “He’s wonderful—smart, funny and sexy as hell.”
Mark glared up at Barbie. “He’s not that sexy.”
Barbie’s smile lit up her eyes. “Mark, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
“Should I be?”
At that Barbie laughed outright. “You tell me.”
They gazed at each other, exchanging some private message, and slowly a grin slid into place. “Maybe not,” he murmured in a low, husky voice.
Barbie bent and kissed his cheek. “I don’t have any reason for complaint, sir—and I don’t think you do, either.”
Now it was Mark who winked. “Your point is well taken, madam.”
“We’ve come to give you a few tips,” Barbie announced. Mark, however, seemed more interested in studying a selection of mysteries, which were displayed on a table close to the front of the store.
“What kind of tips?” Anne Marie asked.
“Dating tips, of course!”
Mark set aside Sue Grafton’s T is for Trespass and glanced up.
“This is all Barbie’s idea.”
Fortunately the bookstore was empty. Anne Marie would hate having customers privy to this conversation.
“It’s been a while since you dated, hasn’t it?”
Her last supposed date had been with Tim, when he’d dropped the bombshell about Vanessa. The memory of their evening together still embarrassed her.
In retrospect, she should’ve noticed the signs; she’d made the mistake of assuming Tim was interested in her just because she was enthralled with him. To her, it’d been like linking two pieces of puzzle and f inding they f it perfectly. No, not two pieces, three. Tim and Ellen and her…the fantasy of a family.
“It has been a while,” Anne Marie agreed.
“The rules have changed,” Barbie said with authority. Anne Marie turned to Mark for guidance. He, however, was back to exploring the mystery and thriller titles. He held Brad Meltzer’s latest and was studying the cover. Seeing that he wasn’t going to be any help, she sighed. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Forget what those dating books tell you. Just be yourself,” Barbie advised.
“I know Mel’s a widower, but does he have children?” That was a subject she felt she could discuss. Knowing they shared common ground would be a great starting point.
“They’re grown and married.”
“How old is this guy, anyway?”
“Age is a matter of attitude,” Barbie insisted. Anne Marie groaned. “Oh, come on, Barbie.”
Barbie relented. “He’s not that old. In his f ifties.”
Robert’s age, Anne Marie mused. Her husband had died of a heart attack far too young; he’d been in his f ifties, too. Even now, it was hard to believe he was dead.
Out of the corner of her eye Anne Marie saw that Louis, her new part-time employee, had come in. He was a student at UW and worked evenings.
“I’m sure Mel and I won’t have a problem f inding things to talk about,” Anne Marie told her friend. He’d lost his wife a year ago and Robert had been gone more than two.
“I’m sure you won’t,” Barbie said, taking a Vogue magazine from the rack and leaf ing through it.