The Shop on Blossom Street

Jacqueline found Reese in the kitchen, standing in front of the open refrigerator. He removed a take-out container she’d brought home from lunch two days earlier. She rarely cooked anymore, especially since Martha, their housekeeper, was more than willing to assume the task. Jacqueline had her own commitments and no longer bothered with meal preparation. Reese usually ate alone because he tended to stay late at the office. Or so he said.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he lifted the lid and examined what remained of her Caesar salad with shrimp. Apparently it didn’t suit him because he closed it again and stuck the container back in the refrigerator. “Do we have any eggs?”

“I think so,” she said, stepping between him and the refrigerator door. “Would you like me to make you an omelet?”

“Would you?” He acted surprised that she’d offered.

Irritated, Jacqueline took the egg carton from the door and grabbed a cube of Monterey Jack cheese.

“What are you doing home?” she asked. If she was going to cook for him, the least Reese could do was answer her questions.

He perched on the bar stool and watched as she chose a small frying pan and set it on the burner. “Do we have any mushrooms?”

“No. Now answer my question.”

Reese sighed laboriously.

“Fine. Don’t tell me,” she muttered and turned away. Rummaging in the vegetable bin, she located a useable green pepper, half an onion and a questionable-looking zucchini, which she deftly tossed in the garbage.

“You sent Paul and Tammie Lee a floral bouquet, didn’t you?”

“I told you I would,” she said irritably. She wasn’t accustomed to explaining her actions to her husband. Since when was she accountable to Reese? And she hated the way he’d been nagging her about their daughter-in-law.

“Did you hear from Paul?”

Jacqueline pinched her lips to hide her displeasure. “No, but Tammie Lee phoned to thank us for the roses,” she answered with bad grace. Actually Tammie Lee had gushed with appreciation and chattered on as if she’d never seen a dozen roses before.

“Is that all she said?”

“Should she have said more?” she snapped. Jacqueline resented this inquisition, and she wanted him to know it.

Reese glanced away. “I have no idea. You were the one who spoke to her.”

“She informed me that she’s thrilled about being pregnant. According to her, the pregnancy was a surprise.” Jacqueline could hardly wait to hear what her country-club friends said when they learned Tammie Lee was expecting. Everyone knew her feelings toward her daughter-in-law and her hope that Paul would recognize his mistake.

“I think she did it on purpose.” Jacqueline bristled just saying it. Tammie Lee knew exactly what she was doing. This baby was no more an accident than Pearl Harbor had been.

“It’s Paul’s life.”

“Do we need to keep having the same conversation?” The pan was hot and she cut off a small slice of butter and let it melt before tossing in the chopped vegetables. Taking her frustration out on the eggs, she cracked their shells against the side of the bowl and beat three eggs into a frothy foam.

“Did you sign up for the knitting class?”

Reese was certainly full of questions, and she concentrated on her task rather than respond. It didn’t escape her notice that he was close-mouthed about the details of his own life. She wondered how he’d feel if she started asking him questions. Like why he happened to be home at this time of night when he was supposed to be with his mistress. Or why he was suddenly so curious about what Jacqueline was doing. She decided not to answer.

Jacqueline half expected Reese to be angry at her lack of response. Instead he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. I can’t imagine you with a pair of knitting needles.”

She decided to let that remark pass. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he’d annoyed her.

“You don’t look like any grandma I’ve ever seen—especially in the bathtub just now, all pink and pretty.”

Again Jacqueline let his comment slide. She poured the beaten eggs on the semi-cooked vegetables and added a heaping handful of grated cheese. With practiced ease she loosened the edges of omelet and flipped it over. When the eggs had cooked the way she knew Reese liked them, she slipped the omelet onto a plate and handed it to her husband.

Reese’s eyes lit up appreciatively.

“You never did say why you’re home this early.” He’d already refused to answer her once and she wondered if he would again.

“I was hungry,” he said simply and dug into the eggs and cheese.

Whatever had really happened, Reese obviously didn’t plan to tell her. She watched him a moment and then said, “I’m going to bed to read.”

Setting the dirty pan into the kitchen sink for Martha to wash in the morning, she left the kitchen.

Reese didn’t say anything until she was halfway out of the room. “Jacquie.”

“What is it?” she asked in a resigned tone.

“Thanks for making me dinner.”

She sighed audibly and slowly shook her head. “You’re welcome.” With that she walked into her bedroom. She took off the robe and sat on the edge of the queen-size bed piled high with decorative pillows, running her hand over the lacy cover. Turning aside the down comforter, she slid beneath the cool sheets and arranged her pillows so she could sit up and read.

In the distance she heard Reese rinse off his plate and put it in the dishwasher. Soon afterward the television in the den went on; just when she was about to complain, he lowered the volume.

Jacqueline read for about ten minutes—until tears unaccountably blurred her vision. She didn’t understand why she was crying. Leaning across the bed to the night-stand, she plucked a tissue from the decorative box.

It was because everything was happening at once, she decided. This untimely pregnancy, and then Paul and their angry exchange the day before, followed by Reese’s unexpected arrival tonight. Her life was a shambles. She’d be the laughingstock of her friends, she thought bitterly. Mrs. Donovan with her white-trash daughter-in-law. Her pregnant daughter-in-law, her love-struck fool of a son and her straying husband.

Still, she was determined to prove to Reese and Paul that she’d be a good grandmother if it killed her.

7

CHAPTER

CAROL GIRARD

Carol was in a hopeful mood as she prepared dinner on Thursday evening. Doug was due home any minute and she was full of news. Cutting a chicken breast into bite-size pieces, she poured soy sauce over the uncooked meat to marinate for his favorite stir-fry.

She smiled when the door opened and her husband entered the condo. “Hi, honey,” he said as he hung up his suit jacket, then joined her in the kitchen. Carol immediately turned into his arms and enthusiastically brought her lips to his. The kiss was long and involved, revealing her eagerness for lovemaking.

“To what do I owe this greeting?” Doug asked, leaning back far enough to take a slow, lingering look at her.

“I had a marvelous day.”

“Tell me what you did,” he said. He loosened his grip on her waist and began to examine the mail, which she’d placed on the kitchen table.

“After you left for work I went for another walk to that yarn store I found on Tuesday. Lydia said it wasn’t necessary until our class tomorrow, but I picked out the needles and yarn for the baby blanket. Just wait till I show you the picture! It’s so cute!” Carol rushed into the other room and produced a pattern and a ball of off-white yarn. “Isn’t this just perfect?”

Doug stared at the yarn as if he wondered how she could possibly get this excited over something so mundane.

“Don’t you see?” she said. “Doug, we’re going to have a baby! I feel so confident. This time everything will be different. Earlier in the week I was thinking I can’t endure this agony anymore. Everything’s been so hard. But all at once I have hope, real hope. Oh, Doug, Doug, we’re going to have a baby.”

She could see that some of her fervor was finally touching him. “A baby,” she repeated, her voice quavering with emotion. She reached for his free hand and pressed his palm against her flat stomach.

Doug’s gaze held hers, desire warming his eyes. He dropped the mail on the floor and wrapped her in his arms. Their kisses were passionate, luxurious. After several minutes of escalating excitement, he drew back slightly and caught her lower lip between his teeth. Familiar with her husband’s wants and needs, Carol slowly undulated her hips, stroking his arousal. She murmured words of encouragement, whispered lewd promises for him alone.

Doug moaned softly and kissed her again. “You know what you do to me when you talk like this.”

“I know what you do to me,” she countered.

He had her blouse unfastened and half off her shoulders when they stumbled into the living room. Arms entwined, they fell onto the sofa, giggling and eager now to finish what they’d started.

“We’ve been married too long for this kind of crazy sex,” Doug said as he jerked off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Are you saying you want to wait until later?”

“No,” he growled.

Carol didn’t either. This spontaneity was in stark contrast to the scheduled lovemaking that had become their norm. What had once been impulsive and natural was now as routine, as prosaic, as a doctor’s appointment. Their focus was on timing, on the effort to match her ovulation cycle, their purpose to achieve conception. Now, for the first time in years, their lovemaking was liberated—and liberating. Once he’d dispensed with his suit pants and Carol her slacks, she lay back on the sofa and stretched out her arms to welcome her husband.

Doug lowered himself onto her and Carol closed her eyes at the exquisite sensation as his body linked with hers. This was the way lovemaking was supposed to be. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to feel this urgency. Their purpose was love and hope, and they were drunk on their need for each other.

With Carol’s arms around Doug’s neck, her fingers delved into his dark hair. She whimpered and arched to meet each thrust and gave herself over to the warmth and the joy of their lovemaking.

They held each other for a long time afterward, savoring each moment. Neither spoke, afraid, she guessed, to disrupt the peace of this joining of bodies and souls. Their coupling was an affirmation of their deep-rooted love, of their commitment and their unwavering belief that one day they would be parents. Carol was sure. She’d been convinced of it the day she’d walked into the yarn store and learned the project for the beginners’ class was a baby blanket. It was a sign.

After a while, Doug lifted his head and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

Sated and content, she smiled up at her husband. “I love you, too. I think little Cameron’s going to be very happy with his daddy.”

“Little Colleen, you mean.”

“We could have twins, you know.”

“Good, the more the merrier.”

They continued to gaze at each other until it was too uncomfortable to remain in the same position. After dressing and straightening her blouse, Carol picked up the yarn. Just holding it brought her comfort. She’d knit this baby blanket and with each stitch, each row, her unborn child would feel her love.

The phone rang after dinner while Carol was putting their plates and cutlery into the dishwasher. Doug sat in front of the television, half listening to the news and reading the paper. He lowered the sports pages and saw that Carol had answered the phone in the kitchen.

Caller ID told Carol it was her brother, Rick, a pilot for Alaska Airlines, calling from his cell phone. He was based in Juneau, Alaska, where his ex-wife, Ellie, lived, too. Rick’s schedule often brought him to Seattle, but he rarely had time to see her.

“Hello, big brother,” Carol said, her happiness evident in her voice.

“Carol, you sound wonderful. Are you …?” He hesitated, but Carol knew what he was asking.

“Not yet. Doug and I are working on it, though—all hours of the day and night.” She tossed her husband a saucy look, but he was reading his paper and didn’t notice. “How long are you in town?”

“Tonight and tomorrow this time around. I fly out in the late afternoon. Any chance we can get together? Not necessarily this trip, if that doesn’t work for you, but soon.”

Carol immediately checked the calendar. “I’d love to.” His invitations were few and far between, and she’d make whatever adjustments were necessary to accommodate her brother. “What about breakfast?”

“You know I’m not much of a morning person.”

Carol did remember the trouble her brother had always had getting up for school. “That’s true,” she said.

“What are you doing these days?” he asked conversationally.

“Not much. Doug and I go to the gym three mornings a week and tomorrow afternoon I’m starting a knitting class.”

“Knitting? You?”

“Yes, and if you treat me right, once I learn I’ll knit you a sweater.”

“One of those Irish ones with all the intricate cables?”

“Ah … I was thinking more along the lines of a simple cardigan with raglan sleeves.”

Her brother chuckled. “I can’t imagine my sister, who managed two-hundred-million dollars’ worth of mutual funds, with a pair of knitting needles in her hands.”

“Well, imagine it, because it’s happening.” She wondered whether he had something on his mind. “Any particular reason you want to see me?”

Rick didn’t answer right away. “It’s been a while since we talked,” he said. “I was hoping we’d get a chance to catch up. That’s all.”

“That would be great. It doesn’t sound as if tomorrow’s going to work out. When are you in town next?” She heard pages flipping in the background as Rick checked his work schedule. “Why don’t you come here for dinner?” she suggested.

“I’ll be back next week. Does that suit you and Doug?” He gave her the date and Carol wrote it on the wall calendar. With the pencil still in her hand, she paused. While it wasn’t unusual for her brother to call, he didn’t often pursue the issue of their getting together.

“Is everything okay, Rick?” He’d been divorced for more than a year now and although he spoke about it matter-of-factly, even dismissively, Carol suspected the breakup had caused him a lot of pain. She didn’t know the exact reasons Ellie had filed for divorce, but Carol figured it had to do with Rick’s career. It couldn’t be easy to maintain a relationship with a husband who was away from home so much. At one time Ellie had hinted he was unfaithful, but Carol refused to believe it. Her brother wouldn’t cheat on his wife. He just wouldn’t.

“Well … sort of okay, but I don’t want to go into it now. There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he added, clearing his throat. “We’ll have dinner next week and talk then.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Carol told him. “Have you seen Mom and Dad lately?” she asked.

“I was in Portland last weekend and they’re fit as ever.”

“Great.”

Carol and her brother made polite conversation for a few more minutes. She frowned as she replaced the receiver, curious about Rick’s problem, whatever it was.

“That was Rick?” Doug asked from the living room.

“We’re having dinner with him next week.”

“We haven’t seen him in a while, have we?”

Carol wandered into the other room and sat on the arm of Doug’s chair.

He glanced up at her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I wish I knew, but something’s going on with my brother.” Resting her arm along the back of the chair, Carol leaned down and kissed the top of Doug’s head. “Promise you’ll always love me,” she whispered.

“I already did,” he said and raised his left hand to show her his wedding ring. “I’m yours, whether you want me or not.”

Carol relaxed against her husband’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more than I do at this moment.”

“Those are words a husband likes to hear,” he said, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling Carol into his lap. She nestled in his arms, grateful to her brother who’d introduced her to Doug, and to her husband for his love. Still, Rick’s call bothered her and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. He might tell her not to worry, but how could she help it?

8

CHAPTER

ALIX TOWNSEND

Alix regretted signing up for the knitting class, but it was too late now. As soon as she’d received her weekly paycheck, she’d returned to A Good Yarn and paid for the class. She’d acted impulsively; it was stupid to throw away good money on a useless knitting class. The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she felt. She’d gotten suckered by some childhood fantasy of the perfect mother. Well, Alix had a mother and she was far from perfect.

“John’s here,” Laurel whispered, stepping up behind Alix at the counter. Her roommate had been seeing one of their regular patrons for about six months now, but as far as Alix was concerned, the guy was a sleaze. He might be good-looking and wear suits, but she saw what kind of movies he rented and they all began with X. His favorites were the kinkiest of the lot.

Early on, John had let Alix know he was interested in her, but she didn’t encourage him. Laurel, however, had been keen on him from the first and seemed to think the world revolved around him. Laurel was welcome to John Murray, used-car salesman, but Alix wanted to tell her friend she could do better. The problem, Alix suspected, was Laurel’s weight. Because she weighed well over two hundred pounds, Laurel seemed to believe no guy would want to be with her. It didn’t help that she wore her thin, stringy blond hair long and straight and didn’t wash it often. Her entire wardrobe consisted of jeans, T-shirts—most of them with either dumb or offensive slogans—and the occasional blouse. All of Alix’s efforts to get her into leather and black pants had failed. Still, no matter how much she weighed or how she dressed, Laurel deserved better treatment than John gave her.

Even if John had been a different kind of guy, Alix wouldn’t have been interested. She had her eye on someone else. She’d made a point of being at the counter when he came in recently and learned his name was Jordan Turner. In the looks department, he wasn’t anything special. Just a regular guy, clean-cut but with a nice smile and warm brown eyes. His rental history told her he didn’t go for kinky stuff the way Laurel’s sick puppy did. Jordan didn’t watch over-the-top violent movies, either. His last visit, he’d checked out True Lies and Dumb and Dumber, pretty tame compared to what Lover Boy chose. She’d once known a guy named Jordan Turner, but that was in sixth grade. She’d really liked him. His dad was a minister and she’d gone to church a few times because Jordan had asked her to. So, in a way, her first “date” had been at a church. Now, that was a laugh!

“Cover for me,” Laurel said from behind her.

“Laurel,” Alix protested, biting off a warning. She hated this because she knew exactly what happened when Laurel and John slipped inside the back office and locked the door.

John watched his sicko sex videos, then returned to the video store all hot and bothered and gave Laurel ten minutes of his time. He left full of promises to take her out, which he had on rare occasions, paying her just enough attention to keep her dangling. The guy was a loser, but if Laurel didn’t see that, she wasn’t going to listen to anything Alix had to say.

“I won’t be long,” her friend promised, giggling as she hurried toward the back of the store, leading John by the hand.

At least it wasn’t busy. By nine in the evening, most people who were going to rent movies had already done so. There were only four or five customers browsing among the shelves.

Involved in her thoughts, Alix was surprised when she glanced up to find the very guy who’d been on her mind. Jordan Turner was standing at the counter.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Caught off guard, Alix needed a moment to control her reaction. She shrugged, then asked in as casual a voice as she could manage, “Can I help you?”

“Would you please check to see if The Matrix is available?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alix turned to the computer keyboard and typed in the movie title. Although no one would guess—she hoped—her heart was hammering wildly. She hadn’t expected Jordan on a Thursday night. He almost always came in on Tuesdays.

“I looked on the shelf, but there doesn’t seem to be a copy.”

“They’re all rented,” Alix told him, staring at the computer screen. “Would you like me to recommend another movie along the same lines?”

He considered her offer, then shook his head. “No, thanks.” He put Catch Me If You Can on the counter and paid for the rental. Before she could think of anything to delay him, he was gone.

Laurel reappeared at the counter, John in tow. She had a hickey on her neck and her blouse was misbuttoned. Alix glared at John who glared back, and whispered something to Laurel. Alix couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she could guess. Laurel shook her head adamantly.

John was out of the store a minute later but not soon enough to suit Alix.

“I’m meeting him after work,” Laurel informed her in a righteous tone. “He’s taking me to dinner.” Her eyes challenged Alix to say anything negative about John now, but Alix wasn’t taking the bait.

“He certainly seems to be in a good mood,” she muttered sarcastically.

“He is,” Laurel said. “He sold a car today and we’re going out to celebrate.”

“You might want to fix your blouse before you leave the store.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, looking down. Her fingers immediately went to work righting the last three buttons.

“Thanks.”

Alix shook her head, and lifted a tray of videos to return to the shelf.

“I probably won’t come back to the apartment tonight,” Laurel said, “so don’t wait up for me.”

As if Alix would. “I’m not your mother. Don’t worry about it.”

“My mother wouldn’t care anyway. She dumped me with my uncle when I was ten. My nasty uncle, if that tells you anything.”

Laurel’s home life hadn’t been any better than Alix’s. They’d met a year earlier when they were both living day to day, mostly in hotel rooms, and not the kind that came with small bottles of shampoo, either. When you’re pulling down minimum wage, you can’t afford first and last month’s rent. It’d taken Laurel and Alix six months to get into their current place. You’d have thought they’d moved into a castle when they found the apartment. Between them they could manage the rent, but with all the neighborhood renovation, Alix was afraid they’d soon be out on the street. Rumor had it the apartment complex had been sold to the same company that bought the old bank.

The apartment was a dump, with sagging floors, a permanently stained bathtub and cracks in the ceiling. But it was the first home Alix had ever considered truly hers. All the furniture was stuff even Goodwill wouldn’t take. She and Laurel had collected it piece by piece over the past few months, through word of mouth and a couple of times right off the street.

Neither girl was in contact with her parents. The last Alix had heard, her dad was living somewhere in California but she hadn’t seen him in ten years and frankly she didn’t feel she was missing much. He hadn’t made any effort to find her and she had no desire to seek him out. Her mother was doing time for forging checks. No one knew that, other than Laurel, whom she’d told in a moment of weakness. Alix had sent her mother several letters but when she wrote back, all she wanted was for Alix to send her money—or even worse, get her stuff she shouldn’t be asking for.

Alix’s only other family was her older brother, but Tom had gotten mixed up with a rough crowd and ended up dead of a drug overdose five years ago. His death had hit her hard. It still did. Tom was all she’d had and then he’d gone and … given up. When she first heard, she’d been angry, so angry that she’d wanted to kill him for doing this to her. The next thing she knew, she was huddled on the floor, wishing she was eight years old again and could hide in a closet and pretend her world was safe and secure.