Summer on Blossom Street (29 page)

“There isn’t,” she said stiffly.

“Can I phone you later and see how Ellen’s doing?”

She didn’t mean to be rude but she couldn’t face him again that night. “I’d rather you didn’t. Tomorrow would be fine.”

“Okay.” He accepted that without argument. “Remember to call if there’s anything I can do.”

She nodded, but as far as Anne Marie was concerned Tim had done quite enough.

Alix Turner

“A
lix, we need to talk.”

Alix tensed. She recognized her employer’s tone of voice and it was ominous. Alix had already had a heart-to-heart with Winter Adams, owner of the French Café, a few days earlier.

Alix had made a costly mistake this morning, her second that week. In both instances the entire batch of dough had to be dumped, wasting the ingredients and the time. Alix knew she was in the wrong, and she knew the mistakes had occurred because she was so agitated, mentally and physically.

Although she’d gone several days without a cigarette, her body still screamed for nicotine. It was supposed to get easier, but it hadn’t. She knew why, too, but that didn’t help.

“Are you going to fire me?” Alix demanded. She
stepped into the office and held herself rigid, expecting the worst. It was what she deserved. If having to toss two different batches wasn’t bad enough, Alix had been irritable all week. She was afraid her employer had grown tired of her short temper, and what had happened this morning was the final straw. Winter obviously intended to let her go.

She looked at Alix and sighed loudly. “It’s not what I want to do. If you recall, I asked you to take over as manager next week when I’m on vacation.”

“But you’re doing it anyway, right?” Alix didn’t know why she felt the need to ask. Losing her job now would be disastrous. She and Jordan were living at the lake house, so with saving for a place of their own, increased transportation costs and much higher utilities, their budget was stretched to the limit. She’d had to give up cigarettes out of necessity as much as desire. She simply couldn’t afford to smoke.

“No,” Winter returned thoughtfully. “You’ve been a wonderful employee until just recently. I’m hoping you can resolve whatever’s bothering you.” She looked directly at Alix. “Do you think that’s possible?”

Alix swallowed hard and nodded. It was easy to blame her bad mood on her need for a smoke; however, the reason was more than her craving for nicotine.

The cigarettes were a convenient excuse, but the underlying problem was her fear of motherhood. She yearned for a child; at the same time the prospect still terrified her. Jordan did his best to reassure her but Alix couldn’t help worrying about her abilities as a mother. Her husband was willing to take the risk, willing to believe they’d be good parents. Alix was the one who doubted.

“I’ll work on a better attitude,” Alix promised as she left the office.

“Giving up smoking isn’t easy,” Winter said sympathetically. “It causes mood swings and concentration problems—but with you I sense it’s more than that.”

“It is,” Alix agreed.

“Do you need some time to clear your head?” Winter asked.

“Could I have an hour?”

“Absolutely.”

Removing her apron, Alix decided she’d take a walk. She set out for the small park close to Blossom Street, her strides brisk, her thoughts no less so.

The day was overcast, dark skies threatening rain, but the weather suited her mood. The play section of the park was deserted. Alix sat on a swing and placed both hands on the chain, gently swaying back and forth.

“Hi.”

Alix glanced up to see Casey Marshall standing off to one side, looking morose. They’d talked a couple of times and understood each other, since they shared a similar background, with all the insecurities it engendered.

“Hey, what’s got you down?” Alix asked, putting aside her own troubles.

“I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

“I’m going to my new foster home next week.”

“So soon?”

Casey bit her lip. “It’s a good place. Evelyn told me. The best, she said.”

“I hated moving, too,” Alix told her. She remembered stuffing everything she possessed in a small suitcase, leaving behind friends, pets and life as she’d
known it for those months or years. Settling in with a new family was always difficult. She’d hated starting over.

“It’s just that…” Casey left the rest unsaid. She sat in the swing next to Alix and kicked at the ground with the toe of her tennis shoes.

Alix didn’t need her to finish the thought. “It’s hard to leave Lydia and Brad, isn’t it?”

Casey nodded. “They…they’re great. I know I sort of got pushed on them,” she murmured. “They want to adopt a baby… Everyone does, right?”

“Right.” Alix couldn’t argue with the facts. Infants were quickly adopted and older children were often shuffled from home to home, family to family, never having the opportunity to put down roots in any one community.

“When I first came to them, I…I didn’t want to be there. It was only supposed to be a couple of days. Lydia and Brad opened their home to me and…and their hearts, too. I didn’t want to like them, but I did. I do.” Sadness seemed to emanate from her as she stared down at the ground.

“I know.” And Alix did. In the beginning she’d tried to blend in with her foster families, too, trying to prove she could be one of them, that she was worthy of love.

“It didn’t work,” Casey continued. “Everything I did was a disaster.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Alix was well aware of how hard Lydia had tried to make Casey feel welcome and part of their family.

“It
is!
” Casey cried. “Last night I tried to surprise Lydia and make dinner and then the casserole boiled over and smoke was pouring out of the oven and the
fire alarm started beeping and dinner was ruined.” She said this in one giant breath.

“Did Brad or Lydia get upset?”

Casey shook her head. “Brad made a big joke of it. He said the fire alarm should be called the dinner bell.”

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Alix smiled.

“And Cody thought it was cool ’cause we had to order pizza.”

“And Lydia?”

Casey glanced away. “Lydia…put her arm around me and said I shouldn’t worry about it. Then she showed me where she keeps the bigger casserole dish so if I wanted to try again I’d know which one to use.”

“So no one was upset with you.”

Casey jerked her head up. “
I
was upset with me,” she countered. “This was my way of thanking them and the whole dinner backfired.”

The girl still looked upset; Alix understood that. Casey had wanted to do something nice and instead she’d revealed her incompetence. She was being unnecessarily hard on herself, which was a tendency Alix shared. She exaggerated every little thing that went wrong. At the moment Alix was sure Casey felt her whole life had been one mistake after another and everything she attempted was a disaster.

“That’s not all, either,” Casey said. “Lydia hired me to do small jobs at the store and she even paid me. She didn’t need to do that, but she did and then I goofed up really bad.”

“How?”

It didn’t seem possible that Casey’s shoulders could droop any lower, but they did. “Lydia asked me to put
price stickers on a shipment of yarn. There were two different kinds of yarn and I accidentally switched the prices, so the expensive yarn was priced really low. As soon as I got it on the shelf, a lady came in and bought every skein and said Lydia had to give her the price I put on.”

“Did Lydia do it?”

Casey nodded.

Alix would bet Margaret had something to say about
that.

“I told Lydia I’d pay her back but she said it wasn’t that big a deal. It was, though, and she lost a lot of money because I was careless.”

“Casey,” Alix said, “everyone makes mistakes. I made a big one this morning at the café and my employer had an excellent excuse to let me go.”

“What did you do that was so bad?” she asked as though it couldn’t possibly have been as bad as what she’d done.

Alix wasn’t keen on proclaiming her stupidity. “I forgot the sugar in the cinnamon rolls. I bake them practically every morning and today I just left it out and the whole batch was ruined.”

“Did everyone get mad?”

“No, but those ingredients cost money, and then there’s also the time involved. Ms. Adams could’ve fired me, with good reason.”

“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.

“Thank you,” she whispered when she could speak again.
A great mom.
Casey couldn’t have known how profoundly those words had affected her.

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 finished 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-filled 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.

Anne Marie Roche

E
llen’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.

“What time will my dad be here?” Ellen asked, bounding down the stairs with Baxter at her heels. She swung the leash in one hand.

“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.”

Anne Marie laughed. She loved the banter between these two. Barbie and Mark somehow brought out the best in each other. According to what she’d heard, he’d been surly and downright rude when he and Barbie originally met—at the movies, of all places. The first time Anne Marie had met him was in a fast-food restaurant and it was plain, at least to her, that Mark was in love with Barbie. She suspected he’d fought the attraction as long as he could, then simply surrendered to the sheer force of Barbie’s personality.

“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 finding they fit 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 fifties.”

Robert’s age, Anne Marie mused. Her husband had died of a heart attack far too young; he’d been in his fifties, 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 finding 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 leafing through it.

“Listen, I wish I could chat longer, but I need to go and change.”

“Wear something bright and cheerful,” Barbie told her.

“Okay.” Anne Marie didn’t bother to say she’d already planned to.

“You’re meeting at the restaurant, correct?”

“Correct,” Anne Marie confirmed. She wanted it that way, despite Barbie and Mark’s assurances that Mel would be happy to pick her up.

She hugged Barbie and pecked Mark on the cheek, then headed upstairs to change clothes for her “hot date.”

By the time she’d finished, Ellen and Baxter had returned. Ellen stared at her. “You look really pretty.”

That comment pleased Anne Marie, and she glanced at the hallway mirror. She wanted to make a positive first impression and had chosen her outfit carefully.
She wore white linen pants with a pale yellow shell under a white blazer. Even to her own critical eye, she looked good.

She’d taken as long to decide on the jewelry—an antique cameo on a gold chain—as the clothes themselves. She’d had her hair done earlier in the day; she’d needed a haircut, anyway, so she’d timed it to coincide with her date.

A knock at the back door told her Tim had arrived. Ellen let him in. “What did you bring me, what did you bring me?” she asked, jumping up and down.

This was exactly the behavior Anne Marie wanted to put a stop to. Ellen had become a little too accustomed to his frequent gifts.

“Dinner.” Tim set a white bag on the kitchen table. He did a double-take when he saw Anne Marie. “You look fabulous. What’s the occasion?”

“Thanks.” She ignored the question and drank in the appreciation shining in his eyes.

Ellen gladly supplied the news. “Mom’s got a hot date.”

Tim’s smile faded. “You’re going out? I thought you had an appointment.”

“I do. It’s an appointment for dinner.” She didn’t feel it was necessary to explain any more than she already had. Tim didn’t keep
her
updated on his relationship with Vanessa.

“I see,” he murmured, but he didn’t ask any further questions.

“I won’t be late…I don’t think,” she said as she retrieved her purse and her car keys.

“Ten?”

“Maybe, but to be on the safe side let’s say eleven.
If I’m going to be any later, I’ll phone.” She probably would anyway, just to check up on Ellen, whose arm still hurt at night.

“Take as long as you want,” Tim said.

“You don’t need to be home at any particular time?”

Tim shook his head. “None.” He opened the door. “Have a nice evening.” His gaze held hers and his words seemed sincere.

“Thank you.” Anne Marie kissed Ellen, gave her final instructions, then left the apartment.

Mel turned out to be everything Barbie and Mark had promised. To begin with, he was distinguished-looking, dressed in a classy suit and tie, and sexy in that Sean Connery way she found so attractive. Like Mark, he was an architect. Their dinner conversation didn’t lag even once; they discovered in short order that they shared the same political views, enjoyed many of the same movies and authors, and were both Placido Domingo fans. The evening passed so quickly that Anne Marie was startled to see it was after ten.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said as she reached for her purse. “I need to check on my daughter.” She paused, not wanting to appear rude.

Mel gestured with his hand. “Go ahead, by all means.”

Tim answered on the second ring and immediately reassured Anne Marie. “Everything went great. Ellen’s been asleep for over an hour.”

“Did she say her prayers?”

Tim chuckled. “Oh, yes. Does it generally go on as long as it did this evening?”

“Five minutes?” The child took her prayers seriously.

“Longer.”

“I figured as much.” No doubt Ellen had been hoping to impress her father.

“She prayed for you,” Tim informed her. “She seems to think you’re going to marry your, uh, hot date.”

“That’s interesting. And how did she feel about it?”

“She seemed okay with it.”

Anne Marie smiled across the table at Mel.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Tim was asking.

“In about half an hour.” She didn’t want to continue a conversation with Tim while she was with her date, so she ended the call. “See you then.” She dropped the cell back in her bag.

They finished the last of their coffee, and then Anne Marie regretfully said she’d have to go. Mel walked her to her car, one hand lightly clasping her elbow. It was a gesture both protective and respectful, and it reminded her suddenly of Robert.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said. “I really enjoyed meeting you.”

“Would it be possible to see you again?” Mel asked.

“I’d like that.”

He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I haven’t dated since Laura died, and…well, meeting you has been a
very
pleasant surprise.”

It had been for Anne Marie, as well.

As she drove home, a relaxed, comfortable feeling stole over her. She’d agreed to this date because of Tim. Her attraction to him had shown her that she’d healed enough to enter into a new relationship. It’d led to an embarrassing situation but she’d recovered from that. One thing was certain: She wasn’t going to make
any assumptions about Mel. Like her, he still carried the pain of having lost a spouse. That loss would never entirely leave either of them.

Tim was flipping through a copy of
The New Yorker
when she walked into the apartment. As soon as he saw her, he threw down the magazine.

“Well,” he said, standing, “how did it go?”

“Fine,” she told him, then amended her statement. “Actually, it went really well. I like Mel.”

Tim nodded, sliding his hands into his back jean pockets.

“Thank you for staying with Ellen. My mother said she’d watch her, but I hated to drag Ellen over there. She still wakes up once or twice a night because her arm aches.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he seemed reluctant to leave.

“Anything I can get you?” she asked, taking off her linen jacket.

“A cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” She moved into the kitchen and brewed a small pot, filling two cups. “How do you take it?”

“Black.” She recalled that but didn’t want to seem presumptuous—or interested enough to notice.

Tim was already sitting at the kitchen table, his elbows propped on a place mat. Anne Marie handed him the coffee, then sat across from him, waiting for him to speak.

Eventually he did. “I thought you should know I’m no longer seeing Vanessa.”

“I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“She recently had a second slip. She got drunk.”

Anne Marie nodded; she remembered he’d mentioned the first time this had happened.

“Once I could forgive, but when I found out she’d been drinking again, I told her it was over. I can’t expose Ellen to that, and Vanessa’s behavior the afternoon Ellen broke her arm was inexcusable.”

“I’m sorry if I played a role in this,” Anne Marie felt obliged to say.

Tim ignored that. “Vanessa has to accept responsibility for her own actions, the same way we all do.”

Anne Marie reached across the table and touched his arm. “I know this must be hard on you.”

He gave her a sad smile. “I’d planned to tell you this earlier in the evening, about Vanessa and me.” He hesitated.

“Yes?” Clearly there was more.

“And suggest the two of us start dating,” he said. “I never did have a good sense of timing,” he added with a rueful laugh.

He couldn’t have shocked her more. “The two of…us?” She’d put the matter so completely out of her mind, she hardly knew how to react.

“Would you consider it?” he asked.

“I…yes, I’ll think about it,” she said, still in a daze.

Tim took a single sip of his coffee, then got to his feet.

Anne Marie walked him to the door.

As they reached it, he turned back. “Maybe this will help,” he said and before she realized what he was going to do, he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was tender and persuasive, so persuasive that her knees felt as if they might buckle.

“Good night, Anne Marie,” he whispered in a voice that didn’t sound like his.