Debbie Macomber_Blossom Street 04 (3 page)

Lillie was silent for a moment. “I’ve decided I want to fall in love.” She spoke with a determination Anne Marie had never heard from her.

“Barbie said the same thing at our Valentine’s party,” Anne Marie pointed out.

“I know.”

Anne Marie waited.

“I’ve had plenty of men ask me out,” Lillie told her. “I don’t mean to sound egotistical, but I’m not interested in most of them.”

Anne Marie nodded, not surprised that “plenty of men” would find Lillie attractive.

“I’ve learned a thing or two in the last sixty-odd years,” Lillie was saying, “and I’m not as impressed with riches or connections as I once was. When I fall in love, I want it to be with a man of integrity. Someone who’s decent and kind and—” She paused as though searching for the right word. “Honorable. I want to fall in love with an honorable man.” She seemed embarrassed at having spoken her wish aloud, and leaned forward to start the engine. “As you might’ve guessed, my marriage—unlike my daughter’s—wasn’t a particularly good one. I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made when I was younger.” The car roared to life, then purred with the sound of a flawlessly tuned engine.

Checking behind her, Lillie backed out of the parking space on Blossom Street. From there they headed toward the freeway on-ramp. Lillie proposed a drive through the Kent Valley and along the Green River, and Anne Marie agreed.

Closing her eyes, Anne Marie let the cold February wind sweep past her. Lillie turned on the radio just as the DJ announced a hit from the late 1960s. Soon she was crooning along to The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind.” Anne Marie remembered her mother singing that song as a girl. Perhaps it was unusual to find herself good friends with a woman who was her mother’s contemporary. Sadly, although Anne Marie was an only child, she and her mother weren’t close. Her parents had divorced when she was in sixth grade, and the bitterness, especially on her mother’s part, had lingered through the years. It didn’t help that Anne Marie resembled her father. She’d had little contact with him after the divorce, and he died in a boating accident on Lake Washington when she was twenty-five. Her mother had never remarried.

Because they had such an uneasy relationship, Anne Marie avoided frequent visits home. She made a point of calling her mother at least once a month. Even then, it seemed they didn’t have much to discuss. Sad as it was to admit, Anne Marie had more in common with Lillie than she did with her own mother.

As Lillie’s voice grew louder, Anne Marie stayed quiet, afraid that if she attempted to sing she’d embarrass herself. After about twenty minutes, Lillie exited the freeway and drove toward the road that ran beside the banks of the Green River.

This was about as perfect a moment as Anne Marie
could remember since Robert’s death. They had the road to themselves. The sun was on her face and the wind tossed her hair in every direction and she couldn’t have cared less.

Lillie, however, had wrapped a silk scarf over her elegantly arranged hair, which held it neatly in place.

Darting around the twisting country roads, Lillie revealed her skill as a driver. Then, in the middle of a sharp turn, she let out a small cry of alarm.

“What’s wrong?” Anne Marie was instantly on edge. She grasped the passenger door as Lillie struggled to control the vehicle.

“The steering wheel,” she gasped. She pulled the car over to the side of the road and cut the engine. She looked wide-eyed at Anne Marie. “There’s something wrong with the steering.”

“This is a brand-new car!”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Lillie said through clenched teeth. She opened the car door and got out, then reached behind the seat for her purse. Taking out her cell phone, she exhaled slowly. “Fortunately I have the dealership’s number in my Calls Received.” She wrapped one arm around her waist while she waited for someone to answer.

“Hello,” she said, speaking without even a hint of irritation in her voice. “This is Lillie Higgins. I was in the dealership earlier this afternoon. Could I speak with Darryl Pierpont, please? He’s the salesman who sold me this vehicle.” She waited, and it seemed the salesman was unavailable because Lillie asked to speak with the manager, who was apparently out of the office, as well. Lillie then said, “All right, answer me this. Has the dealership deposited the check I wrote?” She turned to Anne Marie, eyes
fierce. “I suggest you don’t, as I’m about to put a stop payment order on it.”

That quickly got her the attention she sought. After explaining what had happened and listening for a moment, then describing her location, Lillie closed the cell.

“The dealership’s sending a tow truck for the car. The service manager is bringing me a replacement vehicle until they can determine what’s wrong with mine.”

“As they should.”

“Until then we have to sit here and wait.”

They climbed back into the car and chatted for half an hour or so until another BMW arrived, followed by a tow truck. A Hispanic man stepped out of the car. “Ms. Higgins?” he asked with a slight Mexican accent, looking at Lillie.

“Yes.”

“I’m Hector Silva, manager of the service department. I would like to personally apologize for this inconvenience.”

“I’ve owned this car for less than two hours!”

Hector shook his head. “I give you my word that we will find out what caused the problem and repair it properly. Until then, the dealership would like you to use this loaner car.”

Anne Marie liked the man immediately. He was around Lillie’s age, she guessed, with lovely tanned skin and salt-and-pepper hair. He handed Lillie some papers to sign and then the keys to the other car.

“Would you like a ride back to the dealership, Mr. Silva?” Lillie offered, surprising Anne Marie.

“No, thank you, I’ll escort your convertible with the tow truck driver. I’ll have your car back to you as soon as possible.”

“Thank you.”

He bowed his head. “It is my pleasure, Ms. Higgins.”

While Hector Silva and the driver of the tow truck conferred, Lillie and Anne Marie slipped into the second car, a luxury sedan.

“He was so nice,” Anne Marie commented. The service manager couldn’t have been more accommodating or polite.

“I was looking forward to giving the dealership a piece of my mind,” Lillie said with a sigh. “But how can I when everyone’s being so wonderful? Well,” she said, grinning, “after I threatened them.”

“That had nothing to do with Mr. Silva, though.”

“I agree,” Lillie said. “He struck me as genuine.”

They resumed their drive, except that this time Lillie headed straight back to the city, stopping in front of Blossom Street Books.

“Thank you, Lillie,” Anne Marie said as she climbed out. “I’ve never enjoyed a car ride more.”

“Bye.” And with a smile that shone from her eyes and her heart, Lillie drove off.

S
tanding in front of Woodrow Wilson Elementary School, Anne Marie took a deep breath. Elise Beaumont had repeatedly encouraged her to become a volunteer and had recommended the Lunch Buddy program. Elise herself was a Lunch Buddy at a different school—her grandson’s—but Woodrow Wilson was closer to Blossom Street. She’d sounded so positive about the experience that Anne Marie had felt inspired to make the initial call. Volunteering was now number three on her list of Twenty Wishes, after the red boots and learning to knit.

Lillie had bought her red BMW convertible and despite the problems that first day, she was thrilled with her purchase. Buoyed by that sense of exhilaration, Lillie had decided to look more closely into the financial matters she’d left in the hands of others. She, too, was working on her list, as were Barbie and Elise.

Last week Elise had said she was applying for a part-time job. For the last three years of her husband’s illness, she’d been Maverick’s primary caregiver. Now that her
husband was gone, Elise needed some kind of activity to fill her time. Maverick wouldn’t have wanted her to mope uselessly around the house, she insisted.

Although Anne Marie had only met Maverick Beaumont—a professional poker player—once or twice, she felt Elise was right. Maverick was obviously a man of action and he would’ve urged his wife to do something constructive and meaningful with her remaining years. The Lunch Buddy program was a worthwhile start, but Elise had extra time, lots of it, and energy to spare.

Anne Marie wasn’t sure how Robert would react if he were to find out she’d volunteered as a Lunch Buddy—let alone that she’d begun a list of Twenty Wishes. Would he consider it frivolous? Self-involved? Or would he think it was a good idea, a good way of recapturing her enthusiasm for life? They’d been married almost eleven years and there were days Anne Marie felt she’d never really known her husband.

Robert was a private person who kept his feelings hidden from the world and sometimes even from her. When she first told him she wanted a child, Robert had simply left the room. Not until three days later was he willing to discuss the matter. He’d told her that a second family was out of the question; as far as he was concerned, they’d made that decision before their marriage. He was right. She’d agreed there’d be no children. What he didn’t understand or seem capable of acknowledging was that she’d been at a very different point in her life when she’d married him. She’d been too young to realize how intense the desire for a baby would become as the years went on.

Robert said he already had his family, that it was time to think about grandchildren, not more children. She’d
agreed to his terms and, according to him, that agreement was binding.

Anne Marie had tried to ignore her yearning for a child. With Robert’s encouragement and support, she’d purchased Blossom Street Books with a small inheritance from her grandparents’ estate, which she’d invested years before. That hadn’t solved the problem, nor had Baxter, the Yorkie he’d surprised her with one evening. Much as she loved Robert, her bookstore and her dog, her need for a baby was still there, growing until she could no longer ignore it.

She wanted a baby. Robert’s baby. The promise she’d made him had been more than eleven years ago. She’d changed her mind, but he refused to change his. She’d pleaded and cajoled, all to no avail.

To complicate everything, Robert had discussed this personal and private matter with his daughter, who’d naturally sided with her father. That made Anne Marie’s relationship with Melissa—and with Robert—even more difficult.

Melissa had hated Anne Marie from the day she married Robert. Granted, the girl had only been thirteen at the time, but she’d rejected Anne Marie’s overtures in no uncertain terms, and her attitude had become more adamant, more intolerant, with age. His daughter had always been Daddy’s little girl and her resentment toward Anne Marie was unyielding. Melissa had done everything possible to make her feel like an outsider. Anne Marie hadn’t been invited to graduations, birthdays or other family events. Brandon, her stepson, had accepted her from the beginning, and they’d held their own little celebrations. During the first few years, Robert had tried to build a bridge between her and his daughter, but that effort had fallen by
the wayside. After a while both she and Robert had given up. His relationship with Melissa had become something completely separate from his marriage.

Still, Anne Marie felt deeply betrayed when her husband took a private matter between the two of them to his daughter. He’d been disloyal to her. Even worse was learning about it from Melissa, who’d taunted Anne Marie with what she knew. That had added humiliation to the pain.

Robert listened stoically as she wept and cried out her fury. Nothing she said seemed to affect him. He listened, his face impassive, and then a few days later, packed a bag and moved out. Just like that.

The shock of it had left Anne Marie reeling for weeks. After a month in which she refused to give him the satisfaction of calling, Robert had briefly returned to the house to suggest a legal separation.

Remaining as unemotional as possible, Anne Marie had agreed. Perhaps living apart would be best while they both considered their options. By then, Anne Marie had been angry. Okay, furious. She’d wondered if Robert had ever really loved her. How selfish, how unfair, how…male of him.

Anne Marie felt it was imperative that Robert know she was serious about a baby. He’d moved out of the house and, following his lead, she’d moved out, too, leaving the place to sit vacant. Fortunately she had the apartment above the bookstore, which had recently become available. She hoped such a drastic action would give Robert notice that she was more than able to support herself—more than capable of living her life without him. In his own fit of defiance, Robert had listed the house, which was in his name. Everyone was surprised when it sold the
first week. Anne Marie’s things, whatever she hadn’t moved to the apartment, had been taken to a storage unit. It had all been so petty, so juvenile.

Their separation had become a battle of wills, each of them intent on showing how unnecessary and superfluous the other was. They were clearly destined for the divorce court, until Anne Marie decided enough was enough. After all, this was the man she loved. Despite everything—her disappointment, her anger toward Melissa—her feelings for her husband hadn’t changed. The day she called Robert at the office had been a turning point. She admitted she missed him and was sorry the situation had deteriorated so far. He seemed surprised to hear from her and at the same time delighted. He said he was sorry, too, and they’d agreed to meet for dinner.

The one stipulation was that there be no talk about Anne Marie having a baby. Although she didn’t like it, she’d promised. Dinner was wonderful and Robert had gone out of his way to make the evening as romantic as possible.

Robert Roche could certainly be charming when he put his mind to it, and that night he’d charmed himself right into her bed. Their lovemaking had always been powerful and it felt so wonderful to be with him again. Then, in the morning when she awoke, Anne Marie discovered he’d left during the night. That was like a slap in the face. It would serve him right if she ended up pregnant, she’d thought angrily.

Only she hadn’t.

They’d continued to meet and to talk regularly but that was the last time they’d made love.

Shaking her head, trying to free herself from the memories, Anne Marie realized she’d been standing in
front of the elementary school for ten minutes without moving. Making a determined effort, she walked into the building.

She had an appointment with the school counselor, Ms. Helen Mayer, at ten-thirty and she was already five minutes late.

As soon as Anne Marie entered the school, the hallway immediately filled with noisy youngsters, all of them trying to get past her and outside. But for the first time that day, the sun peeked out through dark clouds, and she took that as a favorable sign.

Eventually Anne Marie located the school office, which had a small waiting area, a large counter that stretched across the room and a number of offices behind it.

“May I help you?” the woman at the counter asked.

“I’m Anne Marie Roche. I have an appointment with Ms. Mayer.”

“You’re here for the Lunch Buddy program?”

“That’s right.” Anne Marie nervously brushed her hair away from her face. She wore it straight, shoulder-length, and had dressed in wool slacks and a white turtleneck sweater. Now that she was actually at the office, her uncertainty returned. She wasn’t convinced this was the best project for her, wish list or not. She didn’t know anything about children of elementary-school age, or any age for that matter. Her experience with Melissa hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in her ability to relate to kids.

“Ms. Mayer is meeting with the other volunteers in Room 121,” the woman told her. “There’s an orientation first.”

“Okay,” Anne Marie said with a nod, figuring the
orientation would help her decide. “How do I find Room 121?”

“It’s easy. Just go out the way you came in, take a left and follow the hallway to the end.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the secretary mumbled as she turned back to her computer screen.

Mentally repeating the directions, Anne Marie stepped out of the office. For a moment she hesitated, thinking she could just leave now, simply walk out. She didn’t know any young children and couldn’t imagine what they’d want to talk about. But her hesitation was brief. The prospect of confessing to Elise that she hadn’t even tried compelled Anne Marie to go to Room 121.

Two other women and one man were already seated on metal folding chairs at a long conference table. There was a chalkboard behind them. Helen Mayer welcomed her with a gesture toward an empty seat.

“You must be Anne Marie,” she said. “Meet Maggie, Lois and John.”

Anne Marie nodded in the direction of the other volunteers and pulled out a chair. She still felt the urge to make an excuse and walk out. She couldn’t, though. Not without at least going through the orientation.

“I believe that’s everyone,” Helen said, reaching for a piece of chalk. She walked over to the board and wrote each person’s name.

During the next thirty minutes, Anne Marie learned that this was a four-month commitment. She must agree to meet faithfully with her lunch buddy once a week for that period of time.

“Every week?” one of the other women asked.

“Yes, the same day if possible but it’s understandable
if you occasionally need to change days. It’s best for the children to have a sense of routine and trust that you’ll be here for them.”

The others all nodded. A little belatedly, Anne Marie did, too.

“Next, we ask that you eat the food from the cafeteria. Lunch Buddy kids get their lunch free, thanks to a government subsidy, but you can buy yours at a minimal charge. If you must bring in food from outside, please check to be sure the child you’re paired with doesn’t have any food allergies.”

That was reasonable, Anne Marie thought.

“After lunch you can let the child take you to his or her classroom. Or you can go outside for recess if you prefer. The idea is to spend the entire lunch period with your assigned child.”

“Do they still jump rope?” Lois asked.

Ms. Mayer nodded. “With the same rhymes we used when I was a girl.”

The women exchanged smiles.

“The important thing is to interact with the child,” the school counselor continued. “Get to know him or her and forge a friendship.”

“What about seeing the child outside school?” This question came from Maggie, who appeared to be in her early fifties.

“That’ll have to be approved by the child’s parent or guardian.”

Anne Marie couldn’t imagine seeing the child other than inside the protected walls of the school. She didn’t want to get emotionally attached. Besides, that wasn’t part of the deal. All that was required was to come in and have lunch with her young charge. If he or she wanted to show off school assignments, fine. But that was the limit
of what Anne Marie could handle. She had enough to cope with; she didn’t need to add anything else to the mix. Any relationship with an at-risk child would have to remain casual. Nothing beyond the most basic obligations.

The orientation meeting took the full half hour. Several additional questions were asked, but Anne Marie only half listened. While the others chatted, she struggled, asking herself over and over if this was the right volunteer program. She couldn’t imagine why Elise seemed to think she’d be a perfect Lunch Buddy. Anne Marie didn’t feel perfect. What she felt was…nothing. Nothing at all. Zoned out. Emotionally dead. Disinterested.

Ms. Mayer handed out the assignments, leaving Anne Marie for last. She must have sensed her doubts because she asked, “Do you have any further questions?”

Anne Marie shook her head. “Not really. I’m just wondering if I’m really a good candidate for this.”

“Why not give it a try? I suspect you’ll enjoy it. Almost everyone does.”

The other woman’s reassurance warmed her. “Okay, I will.”

“The child I have in mind for you is named Ellen Falk,” she went on to say. “Ellen is eight years old and in second grade. Because of the Right to Privacy Laws, I’m not allowed to reveal any details about her home background. However, I can tell you that Ellen is currently living with her maternal grandmother.”

“Has she been in this school long?”

“Ellen’s been a student here for the past two years.”

“Okay.”

Before Anne Marie could ask why the school counselor had decided to pair her with this particular child, Helen Mayer continued. “Ellen is an intense child. Very quiet.
Shy. She doesn’t have a lot to say, but don’t let that discourage you.”

“Okay,” Anne Marie said again.

“Talk to her and be patient. She’ll speak to you when she’s ready.”

Oh, great. She’d have to carry the entire conversation for heaven only knew how many weeks. “Is there a reason you decided to match me up with this child?” she asked. Surely there was another one, another little girl who was more personable. Anne Marie wasn’t much of a talker herself these days, and she wasn’t sure that pairing her with an intense, reticent child would work.