The Shop on Blossom Street (17 page)

JACQUELINE DONOVAN

“I
s everything all right with you and Reese?” Tammie Lee asked as she began clearing the dining room table.

Jacqueline sighed and pretended not to hear the question. She’d hoped no one had noticed the tension between her and Reese during tonight’s dinner party. The mayor and two city council members had been in attendance, along with their wives and three other couples.

At the last minute, not bothering to check with Jacqueline, Reese had invited Paul and Tammie Lee. Having Paul there was, of course, perfect, but Jacqueline had cringed at the prospect of her daughter-in-law sharing her unsophisticated sense of humor with members of the city government. Well, there was nothing Jacqueline could do about it.

Thankfully, the evening had gone surprisingly well, with only one minor glitch. The mayor had asked Tammie Lee her opinion of the country club. Without a pause Tammie Lee said in her heavy southern twang that it was nothing but tennis and bridge, dining and whining. After a second’s pause, during which Jacqueline wanted to slink away and die, the mayor laughed uproariously. He said it was the most honest thing anyone had ever said to him. Jacqueline wasn’t sure whether he actually meant it or was just being a good guest.

Reese had glared across the dinner table at Jacqueline, as if to tell her how wrong she was about Tammie Lee. And how right
he
was.

The invitation to their son and his wife wasn’t the crux of their most recent argument, however. Jacqueline and Reese rarely argued; there was no reason for it. But Reese had exploded when he learned she’d been accosted and nearly mugged by those two creeps. Thank goodness both had been apprehended and arraigned. Despite that, her husband had ranted at her for at least ten minutes, unwilling to listen to reason and all because she’d parked the car in the alley. He had the gall to claim she’d asked to be mugged. And then he’d called her stupid.

Jacqueline was still furious. How dare Reese say such things to her—especially when she’d been doing
him
a favor! Because of him, her entire day had been ruined. She’d missed her nail appointment entirely, was late for lunch and so rattled she hadn’t found a thing to buy on her shopping spree.

Other than unavoidable conversation, they hadn’t spoken in five very long days. They wouldn’t be speaking now except for the dinner party, which had been planned weeks earlier. Canceling at the last minute was not an option, so they’d put their argument behind them and assumed their best behavior. Jacqueline was astonished that Tammie Lee had noticed.

“Did you hear me?” Tammie Lee asked, following Jacqueline into the kitchen with an armload of china.

Anyone else would have gotten the message and dropped the subject. Not Tammie Lee.

“You can put those dishes on the counter,” Jacqueline instructed. “Really, there’s no need for you to help. Martha will be here in the morning.” The housekeeper lived in the small guest house in the back. Now that she was older, she rarely had the energy for serving dinner parties. She wanted to retire but Jacqueline relied on her and so Martha stayed on.

“You don’t want to leave these dishes on the table overnight,” Tammie Lee had insisted and she was right. As soon as everyone had left, Jacqueline would put everything in the dishwasher, a task she preferred to do herself.

“It was a lovely party,” her daughter-in-law said.

“Thank you.” Jacqueline bit her tongue to keep from mentioning that one day Tammie Lee would be expected to hold similar parties of her own. She could only hope that when the time came, Tammie Lee would’ve learned a lesson or two from her. Somehow Jacqueline doubted it.

“You’re such a gracious hostess,” Tammie Lee said, returning with her second load of bone china plates.

“Thank you.” Jacqueline fought the impulse to remind her daughter-in-law that each of those plates cost more than Tammie Lee’s entire summer wardrobe. “Where are Reese and Paul?” she asked curiously. Jacqueline was tired; the party had drained her and she was ready for bed. She wanted Paul and Tammie Lee to go home so she could finish up.

“They’re in the den talking.” All the dishes must be in the kitchen now, because Tammie Lee sat down and propped her feet on the opposite chair. She planted her hands on her round belly and rubbed gently. It was more and more obvious now that she was pregnant. Jacqueline hadn’t yet forgiven her son and his wife for keeping the news to themselves for nearly six months.

Jacqueline wondered what Reese and Paul were discussing that could possibly take this long. She scraped off the plates and set them inside the dishwasher.

“I hope you didn’t mind me showing the mayor the blanket you made for our baby,” Tammie Lee murmured. “I think it’s a perfectly lovely thing to do for your first grandchild.”

Jacqueline scowled but kept her head averted so Tammie Lee couldn’t see her reaction. “No, that was fine.”

“Paul and I are so
thrilled
you knit something for our baby girl.”

Jacqueline nodded rather than respond verbally. She continued to scrape leftovers into the garbage disposal.

When she’d finished, she claimed a chair next to Tammie Lee, first pouring herself a glass of wine. If she was going to be trapped in the kitchen with her daughter-in-law, she needed fortification.

Tammie Lee studied her. “Did I ever tell you about the time my mama ran over the mailbox with my daddy’s tractor?”

Jacqueline swallowed her groan. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that one,” she said as she swirled the wine around in her goblet.

If Tammie Lee noticed her sarcasm, she chose to ignore it. “It’s the only time I can remember hearing my daddy holler at Mama. My mama went rushing into the house in tears and I went, too, outraged that my daddy would raise his voice to her.”

“Men tend to speak their minds,” Jacqueline said. She sipped her wine and let it linger on her tongue. At fifty dollars a bottle, she was taking the time to appreciate the finer qualities of this merlot.

“Later Mama told me that the only reason Daddy had been hollering was because the tractor might have toppled on her. He didn’t care one bit about that mailbox. It was my mama he loved, and she might have been crushed getting that close to the irrigation ditch in the tractor. His yelling was a sign of how much he loved her.”

Jacqueline was sure there was a point to this story, but at the moment it escaped her. She sipped the wine.

“I hope I didn’t speak out of turn earlier,” Tammie Lee said softly, her eyes wide.

Jacqueline shrugged carelessly. “I believe the mayor was…amused.”

“Not the mayor,” Tammie Lee corrected. “I meant when I asked if everything was all right between you and Reese.”

“Everything is perfectly fine between my husband and me,” Jacqueline primly informed her. She downed the rest of the merlot—finer qualities be damned—and set the glass on the table.

“Good,” Tammie Lee said, “because Paul and I love you so much and our baby’s going to need her grandma
and
grandpa.”

Somehow Jacqueline managed a smile. “So your mother actually ran the tractor over the mailbox?”

“Twice.”

“Twice?” Perhaps it was the wine, but Jacqueline laughed out loud.

“Daddy wasn’t any happier about it the second time, either.”

Jacqueline would bet not.

“But my daddy loves Mama the same way Reese loves you.”

Jacqueline stopped laughing. Reese hadn’t truly loved her in years. Their marriage was one of convenience and comfort. She didn’t complain about his Tuesday night appointments and he didn’t mention the balance on their credit cards. They had a mutually agreeable relationship, but whatever real love they’d once shared was dead.

“Tammie Lee.” Paul’s voice rang from the dining room.

“In here,” she called, her voice high and animated.

Reese and Paul came into the kitchen, leaving the connecting door between the kitchen and the dining room swinging in their wake.

“You must be exhausted,” Paul said, smiling down on her with such love it was painful to watch. “Are you ready to head home?”

Tammie Lee nodded and Paul helped her to her feet. Then, to Jacqueline’s shock, her daughter-in-law bent down and threw her arms around her neck.

“Thank you,” Tammie Lee whispered, hugging her warmly.

Jacqueline wasn’t sure how to respond. She placed her arms carefully around Tammie Lee and hugged back. It’d been so long since anyone had touched her with so much affection that she found herself close to tears.

“You’re such a wonderful mother-in-law,” Tammie Lee told her. “I think I’m the most blessed woman in the world.”

Jacqueline gazed at Reese over Tammie Lee’s shoulder. She saw something powerful flickering in his eyes. Could Reese possibly still have feelings for her? Was it the reason he’d been so angry about her parking the car in the alley? That apparently was the point of Tammie Lee’s story.

The thought seemed almost inconceivable.

CAROL GIRARD

C
arol was the first to show up for knitting class on Friday afternoon. She arrived early in order to look through the pattern book for another project.

“I thought you were knitting your brother a pullover,” Lydia said as Carol leafed through the section of the binder that held men’s sweater patterns.

“I was, but I’m too upset with him to knit him anything.” Carol hadn’t spoken to Rick in over a week. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but she’d half expected him to keep in touch with her after his confession. This time, his charm wasn’t going to be enough to get him out of the mess he’d created. There were no easy answers.

The bell above the door chimed and when Carol glanced up, she nearly did a double-take. Alix walked in—wearing jeans and a T-shirt. It was the first time Carol had seen her without the constant black leather jacket and either black pants or a ridiculously short skirt. Her hair looked…less punk. Carol opened her mouth to comment but quickly closed it again. Alix didn’t like having attention directed at her, even though she blatantly strove to be different. If that wasn’t a contradiction in terms, Carol didn’t know what was.

“Hi,” Alix said, sauntering up to the table. Her manner seemed self-conscious, and she glared at Lydia and Carol as if defying them to comment on her changed appearance. Then she sat down in one of the chairs and took her knitting out of the plastic video-store bag.

“Hi,” they both responded.

“How’s the pregnancy going?” Alix’s voice was matter-of-fact; she seemed to consider this a perfectly normal question.

Carol saw that Lydia looked over at them warily. No one else had dared ask Carol about her condition. “So far, so good,” she said. “I’m still peeing blue.”

“What?” Alix raised her head.

“The test that tells me I’m registering as positive for a pregnancy,” Carol explained. With the fertilized embryo implanted in her womb, it wasn’t getting pregnant that was difficult, it was
staying
pregnant. Twice now she’d lost the baby before the third week. Holding on to the pregnancy this long meant there was hope, but no part of the process was certain. The first three months were the riskiest in any pregnancy. In her online support group, Carol had recently heard from one friend who’d been pregnant for two and a half months only to miscarry. It had been heartbreaking, and every member had felt Susan’s loss deeply.

The door opened again and Jacqueline came into the shop, bracelets jangling. She wore a tailored pantsuit Carol considered far too formal for the occasion and carried not only her Gucci purse but a leather tote in which she kept her knitting. The woman did like to make an entrance. It was as if she expected everyone to notice she’d arrived and react accordingly. Actually Carol didn’t mind. She’d grown to like all the women in her knitting group.

She and Jacqueline were onto new projects now. The only one who hadn’t finished the baby blanket was Alix, and Carol suspected it was because she couldn’t afford to buy more yarn.

“I’m starting a new sweater,” Carol said, still leafing through patterns.

“What about the other one?” She knew Alix had especially liked the gray cashmere.

“I’m tired of it.” She glanced at Lydia and shared a conspiratorial smile with her. “Do you want the yarn?”

Alix’s eyes lit up. “You don’t want it?”

“Not really.”

“What about the pattern? Do you need that?”

“Not particularly.”

“Great!” Alix shoved her knitting into the plastic bag and nearly rubbed her hands in glee. “I’m almost done with the blanket, and I’d like to knit that sweater for a…friend.”

“Who?” Leave it to Jacqueline to ask.

“A friend, like I said,” Alix muttered defiantly.

“Don’t get high and mighty with me,” Jacqueline snapped. “I was just interested, that’s all.”

Jacqueline expressing interest in Alix? A few weeks ago that would’ve been unimaginable. The change in attitude between them was dramatic and had begun with the near-mugging in the alley. They still sniped at each other but that seemed more out of habit than conviction.

“I didn’t know you had a male friend,” Lydia said, smiling at Alix.

“I don’t,” Alix said quickly, too quickly to be convincing.

“Then who’s the sweater for?”

“Like I said, a friend.”

“Sure,” Jacqueline murmured, grinning. She winked at Alix, whose cheeks immediately blossomed a fetching shade of pink.

“If you must know, it’s a guy I met at the video store,” Alix said irritably. Still, Carol had the feeling that Alix wanted to tell them….

“Does he like you?” Jacqueline asked.

Alix shrugged. “He did when we were in sixth grade—but, well, he’s a preacher and I don’t exactly see the two of us sailing off into the sunset, if you catch my drift.”

“Why not?” Lydia asked. “Preachers have lives, too, you know.”

Alix lowered her head and concentrated on her knitting. “He’s a good kisser,” she said in a soft voice.

Predictably, that piqued the group’s interest, and a lively discussion broke out.

“Reese was quite a kisser in his day,” Jacqueline volunteered. “I remember the first time he kissed me. Every cell in my body sprang to life.”

Carol smiled at the dreamy look on Jacqueline’s face. “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven the first time Doug kissed me,” she recalled. She noticed that Lydia was doing busy work around the shop, straightening patterns that were already straight. “What about you, Lydia?” Carol asked.

Lydia jerked around, almost as if she resented being included in the conversation. Then she sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more than a…kiss. It was always pleasant, but nothing earth-shattering happened afterward.”

“It will one day,” Jacqueline assured her.

“Don’t you think you’re placing a lot of importance on a simple kiss?” Lydia asked. “Good grief, we’ve all been kissed, and while it’s very nice most of the time, it’s not
that
big a deal.”

Jacqueline motioned toward Alix. “Was it a big deal for you when this preacher kissed you?”

Carol could tell Alix was uncomfortable with the question. The girl tossed her head in a nonchalant movement. “Yeah, I guess, but I don’t think about it, you know?” She looked around, and her expression said she’d thought of little else.

For a moment the room was silent as each woman concentrated on her individual task. Carol wasn’t sure what Jacqueline was working on these days. She’d started knitting scarves using an ultra-expensive yarn and then moved on to felting hats and purses. It was hard to keep up with Jacqueline’s current projects because she leaped from one to another and seemed to have several in progress at a time. Carol suspected she’d become one of Lydia’s best customers.

“Didn’t I see you come out of The Pour House last Friday?” Alix suddenly asked Lydia. “With that UPS driver.”

“Me?” Lydia’s cheeks flamed and she raised her hand to her chest. “Yes…I was meeting Brad Goetz for a drink.”

Alix let out a low whistle of approval. “He’s hot stuff.”

Lydia seemed to find something that needed attention in her display of knitting books. “We’re going to dinner later in the week.”

“Do I sense a romance developing?” Jacqueline asked in a friendly tone.

“That would be nice,” Carol said. She was amused at how shy Lydia was about men. Brad was the first one she’d mentioned. And this young preacher of Alix’s…Carol felt touched that the girl had confided in them.

“Would you like to come up to the condo to get the yarn one day next week?” Carol asked impulsively.

Alix nodded. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. Or I can bring it to class, if you’d prefer.”

“I can stop by your place.”

Carol had the feeling the girl didn’t get many such invitations. “Why don’t you come for lunch on Monday? Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Despite her indifferent-sounding response, Alix couldn’t hide her eagerness to accept.

Carol looked around at the others with an affectionate smile. There was Alix, of course, whose defensiveness had diminished so noticeably. And Jacqueline, who no longer tried to impress them with her social connections. Lydia had become less reserved, and her warmth and wit were more in evidence every week.

Odd how these things went, Carol mused as she continued to leaf through the pattern book. A group of mismatched personalities, four women with nothing in common, had come together and over the course of a few months, they’d become real friends.