Blossom Street

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Alix pulled out a chair and sat down with her needles and yarn. I sat at the end of the table, resuming a ChemoCap I’d begun the week before. Smiling at my friends, I tried to imagine the Warm Up America blanket they’d construct. Jacqueline with her lavender-and-pink super-wash wool patches; Carol’s patches in a nice Paton’s baby-blue yarn left from a sweater she’d knit Cameron; and Alix’s variegated green-and-yellow blend, leftovers one of my other customers had donated.

“I made a genoise this morning,” Alix said proudly. “Those are really hard to do—very delicate. It turned out perfectly. And it sold right away.”

“That’s wonderful,” Jacqueline exclaimed. “I want to order one for a business dinner we’re having next week.”

“For you—it’s free. I’ll make it at home.” Alix continued to live in the housekeeper’s quarters at Jacqueline and Reece’s place. She’d originally been hired to help with the housework, but with school and her job, it’d become too much for her. Jacqueline had hired someone else who came in during the days to do the housekeeping, but Alix was still staying with the Donovans to watch the house whenever Jacqueline and Reece traveled.

“Just think of it,” Alix said, “I get my first real job as a pastry chef, and wouldn’t you know, it’s in the same spot I worked before. Only this time it’s not a video joint, but a classy café.”

“And Reece and I didn’t have a thing to do with her getting that job,” Jacqueline reminded everyone. “Alix was hired for her skills.”

“You bet I was. Anyone who tastes my éclairs and cream puffs would know it, too.”

“Don’t mention those éclairs,” Jacqueline pleaded, briefly closing her eyes. “I’m on a new diet and I’m avoiding desserts—except at dinner parties, of course.”

“Speaking of diets,” I said, changing the subject, “I’ve got a teenager in my sock class, Courtney, who’s knitting in an effort to lose weight.” I laughed as I said it. “How it works, she says, is that while she’s knitting, she’s not in the kitchen hauling food out of the fridge. And she’s definitely lost a few pounds.”

“Hmm,” Jacqueline murmured. “It’s worth considering. Keep us posted.”

“Courtney’s a high-school senior,” I said. “Does anyone remember meeting Vera Pulanski? This is her granddaughter.”

Jacqueline nodded. “Vera gave me her scarf pattern.”

“Courtney’s living with her this year.”

“How’s she doing?” Alix asked. “That’s tough, moving around so much. I should know.”

“So far, so good,” I assured her.

“Did anyone else interesting sign up for your classes?” Carol asked, finishing her row.

I hesitated before mentioning Bethanne. “A divorced woman who hasn’t quite found herself.” I couldn’t help worrying about her. Bethanne had talked about needing a job, but apparently nothing I or any of the other women suggested was suitable. She seemed depressed to me, lacking direction and purpose. All that kept her going was her two teenage children, who’d be out of the house within a few years. Bethanne would be completely alone then.

“There’s Elise, too.”

“She’s the retired librarian?” Carol asked.

“Yes.” I put aside the ChemoCap and cast on stitches for a new patch in an acrylic and wool blend, a sample one of the reps had given me. “I thought she was a bit of a prude when we first met, but I’ve changed my mind. I think she’s simply … self-contained. I got the impression she doesn’t have many friends.”

“Did you tell her about my Birthday Club?” Jacqueline asked. “She’s welcome to join.”

I should’ve guessed that my friend, the social butterfly, would be willing to draw Elise into her circle. “I don’t think she’s part of the country club set,” I protested.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s a good excuse to go out once a month and celebrate. And if nobody in the group has a birthday that month, we choose a celebrity or a famous writer. So in June, we toasted Judy Garland and Dorothy Sayers. We have a lot of fun.” She giggled like a schoolgirl, silly and joyous. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that this was the same stuffy socialite who’d walked in my door a year ago. I attributed the transformation to the fact that my friend had rediscovered her love for her husband and become close to her daughter-in-law.

“I’ll tell Elise,” I said, but I’d feel a little uncomfortable doing it. Elise was a difficult woman to read. She was guarded and didn’t share much about her life, as if she was afraid to let people know who she was. However, she brightened whenever she mentioned her daughter and grandchildren.

During the last class, she’d been even more withdrawn than usual. When I tried to get her to enter into the conversation, she’d smiled weakly and apologized for being out of sorts. She’d actually revealed something about herself that day. Her ex-husband was visiting, she told us, and had announced he was moving to the area. Elise didn’t appear pleased at the prospect of sharing her family with a man who’d been absent for most of his daughter’s life.

The bell chimed and because it was Friday, I half feared it might be Brad. I’d leave Margaret to deal with him; she’d been busy with customers all afternoon. She seemed to sense that I needed this break, this time surrounded by friends. I sighed with relief when I saw Elise. “I was just talking about you,” I said and greeted her warmly.

She looked shyly around the table. I introduced her, and Jacqueline was quick to move her knitting bag, clearing a space in the chair next to hers. “Lydia said you recently retired. I’d say it’s high time you joined the Birthday Club.” She paused. “When is your birthday?”

“January.” Elise seemed uncertain about Jacqueline’s invitation. “At my age, I don’t think it’s a good idea to make a fuss about getting older.”

Jacqueline smiled. “Are you kidding? Every new year is a reason to celebrate. You’ll love it, I promise. Our next meeting is Thursday lunch and I’ll come and get you. Life is meant to be lived, that’s what I say.”

“I—I won’t know anyone. And … what about the cost? How much is it?”

“You’ll know me,” Jacqueline insisted. “And your first lunch is my treat, since we missed your real birthday.” When Elise continued to object, Jacqueline spoke in a decisive tone the rest of us were familiar with. “You’re coming, understand? I won’t listen to a single argument.”

“I suppose that would be all right,” Elise said, but she didn’t sound confident that this would be a pleasant experience.

I was smiling, genuinely warmed by my friends. The bell chimed again and when I looked up there was Brad. Just as I’d feared … The happiness drained out of me but I need not have worried.

Margaret’s gaze went straight to me from across the room. “I’ll take care of this,” she muttered.

Alix frowned and leaned forward to whisper, “I can still have him hurt. I know people. You say the word, and it’s done.”

I still hadn’t decided whether or not she was joking, but I couldn’t keep my eyes away from Brad. I shook my head. He looked as miserable as I felt. “That won’t be necessary,” I assured Alix. He was hurting enough already. We both were.

18

CHAPTER

ELISE BEAUMONT

Elise’s book club met at two o’clock on the second Monday of every month and she loved it. The group was sponsored by the Seattle Public Library, and Elise had promised herself she’d participate after she retired. She also planned to join Jacqueline’s Birthday Club at least once, and was determined to enjoy herself.

The July book discussion revolved around the book Girl In Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland. It had been lively, and Elise left the meeting feeling invigorated. The group had brought a variety of perspectives to the novel, including some she hadn’t previously considered.

The bus dropped her off a half block from home. The house was quiet when she walked in and she tried to remember what Aurora had said about her plans.

The minute she walked in the door, Luke and John always demanded her attention. The silence this afternoon was disorienting.

“Aurora, I’m back, and it was the best meeting yet,” she called. “I—” She paused in midsentence when Maverick stepped out of the kitchen wearing an apron and wielding a tomato-smeared wooden spoon.

“Aurora and the boys are out for the afternoon,” he explained. “Last-minute plans.”

“Oh.” Her excitement evaporated quickly.

“I’m cooking,” he explained, although that was obvious. “Lasagna to be exact—it was always your favorite of my dishes.”

Elise imagined he’d dirtied every single pan and bowl. She remembered how he could wreak havoc in an orderly kitchen. “Does Aurora know about this?” she asked sternly. He expected her to comment on the fact that he was supposedly doing this for her benefit, but she wasn’t saying a word.

“Aurora suggested it.”