Summer on Blossom Street

The thought tempted her; still, she hesitated. “When is it?”

Lydia told her.

Alix decided to consider it. “What’s the project?”

Lydia’s classes were always interesting, not only the projects but the people who signed up. It was through that first knitting class that she’d met Jacqueline, who’d become both mentor and friend.

“I was thinking of having everyone work on a sampler scarf with a variety of patterns,” Lydia explained. “From what I can assess so far, everyone’s at a different skill level. The scarf shouldn’t be too difficult for a beginner but it’ll offer a bit of a challenge for more experienced knitters, too. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.”

A sampler scarf appealed to her. “How many people have signed up?”

“Just two so far, so there’s plenty of room.”

“What’s everyone quitting? Anyone else giving up smoking?”

Lydia shrugged. “Not that they said. And guess what? A man joined the class. His personal assistant found my ad in the phone directory.”

“A man?” That was intriguing. Apparently plenty of men were knitters, although they didn’t usually take classes. But then what did she know? She’d never actually met any and they had to learn somehow. So, why not a class?

“According to his assistant, he doesn’t currently knit.”

“What’s he quitting?”

Lydia looked uncertain. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t speak to him personally.”

“The lady who stopped in on Wednesday seemed almost distraught,” Margaret inserted. “She said something about a man, so I assume she’s either just out of a relationship or trying to end one.”

The group would certainly be varied, which made for a stimulating mix of ideas and personalities. “You know, it might not be a bad idea for me to do this. I’m going to need a scarf for this winter and I can work on the baby blanket when I’m finished.”

Lydia smiled. “It would be wonderful to have you in one of my classes again.”

“It sure can’t hurt, especially if you’re sincere about giving up smoking,” Margaret put in.

Rather than take offense at Margaret’s attitude, Alix let her remark pass. Lydia’s sister didn’t have the ease with people or the engaging manner Lydia did, but she was a kindhearted person. A little critical, true—not that she was wrong in this instance. No matter what it took, Alix was quitting cigarettes once and for all.

Alix lingered a while longer and purchased what she’d need for the class, then headed home to their cramped apartment. It was near the church, on a street off Blossom. They’d have to make other living arrangements before the baby arrived, since the apartment was barely big enough for two.

She made a Cobb salad for dinner, with grilled chicken strips, blue cheese, hard-boiled eggs and sliced pickled beets, one of her favorite vegetables. Jordan liked turkey bacon on his, but she’d added that to the grocery list because they were out of it. Just as she was putting the finishing touches on their dinner, Jordan walked in.

“Hi, sweetie,” he said, kissing her cheek. “How’d your day go?”

“Good.”

“Mine, too,” he told her. He sat down at their dining table. “Have you got a moment to chat?” he asked.

A formal request like that wasn’t typical, so this must be important. “Of course,” she said.

Jordan studied her as Alix left what she referred to as her alcove kitchen and sat down at the small table with the two chairs.

“Something wrong?” she inquired, feeling slightly nervous.

“Not really… It’s just that I got a call from my dad this afternoon. I must’ve spent an hour on the phone with him.”

Jordan and his father kept in close contact and spoke often, so the call in itself wasn’t unusual. “And?” she prodded.

“The family’s been trying to sell Grandma Turner’s house on the lake.”

That wasn’t new. After the funeral, the house had gone up for sale. The housing market was weak, and even lakefront properties weren’t selling. Grandma’s house was older, too. Alix felt the family was making a big mistake; she feared that in years to come they’d regret ever letting go of that wonderful home where Grandma Turner had spent her entire married life.

Alix loved the old house with its expansive front yard and wide flower beds. Grandma Turner had worked in her yard until the day before she died. She and Alix had developed a special friendship. Much of their time together was spent gardening, and the smell, the feel, of sun-warmed earth was something Alix would always associate with Sarah Turner. The older woman was everything she hoped to be one day: generous, gracious, accepting and loving.

Not only had Jordan’s grandmother welcomed her into their family, but when Alix had been uncertain about going through with the wedding, Sarah had taken her in and sheltered her.

“Did the house sell?” Alix asked.

“Not yet.”

Her immediate reaction was a feeling of relief. The price had been lowered twice, but still no takers. What would’ve sold quickly as little as a year ago lingered on the market now.

“Dad doesn’t think it’s a good idea to leave the house vacant for so long.”

Alix agreed, but she was worried about renting it out. “Is he going to put it on the rental market?” she asked warily.

“Not exactly,” Jordan told her. “Dad suggested you and I move there until a buyer’s found.”

Alix nearly squealed with delight. Not once had the thought occurred to her and yet it was the perfect solution. “Jordan, I’d love that!” Their apartment was so tiny they had virtually no storage space. Wedding gifts had to be kept at his parents’ home because there was simply nowhere to put them.

No similar enthusiasm showed in her husband’s eyes. “We need to think this through carefully, Alix. It sounds like a good idea now. I know you love the house, but there are complications.”

Alix was aware of those, but she didn’t care. Any inconvenience would be minimal compared to the benefits. “Well, sure, there are bound to be some changes,” she said. “For one thing, we’ll have to commute to the city every morning.”

“It’s more than that.” Jordan shook his head. “There’s no telling how soon it’ll be before someone makes an offer and the deal closes. Then we’d have to pack up and move out.”

“That’s okay,” Alix said eagerly. They didn’t have much furniture so it wouldn’t take long to move again. No matter how many—or how few—months they had in the house by the lake, it would be worth the inconvenience.

Jordan didn’t seem to hear her. “In addition to that, there’s no guarantee we’d find another apartment as reasonable as this one.”

“Can’t we trust the Lord to look after the details?” she asked. “Doesn’t it feel as if this is meant to be?”

“Alix, do you know how much work is involved in moving?”

He had to be joking! She’d moved almost every six months her entire life. Her parents could never manage to pay the rent and still afford booze. Eviction never seemed to faze them; there were always other houses, other neighborhoods.

Later, as a foster child, Alix had never lasted long with any family. By sixteen she was essentially on her own.

“Jordan,” she said, reaching out to take his hand. “I do know all the work involved in moving.”

He frowned. “I can’t believe you’re serious about this.”