Blossom Street

42

CHAPTER

BETHANNE HAMLIN

Bethanne was in the midst of party preparations for an eight-year-old boy. Todd was a fan of old-fashioned Western movies and TV shows, the cowboy and Indian shoot’em up kind. Bethanne had developed a party for him revolving around his favorite hero, the Lone Ranger. The invitations were out, and everyone was asked to come dressed as a cowboy. Bethanne planned to bring her guitar and she’d made arrangements to have a few bales of hay delivered. The parents had agreed to a campfire in their large backyard, and after various games, the boys would eat sitting around the fire and then she’d lead a singalong. In order to get in the mood, she’d tie a red bandanna around her neck and wear her cowgirl boots. She’d even bought a tin sheriff’s badge to pin to her plaid shirt.

Humming to Reba McEntire, she stirred the pork and beans warming on the stove. They were canned, but she’d added liquid smoke to give them the flavor of having been cooked on a campfire.

The games were more involved, since she wanted to stick to the western theme, and she planned to talk over her ideas with Andrew when he got home from school. Everything else was settled, including the menu.

Bethanne liked Elise’s idea of making a schedule of standard party ideas, so she wouldn’t need to start from scratch with every child. Who would’ve believed her creativity would get her this far? Her one drawback was the lack of start-up cash. It was hard to balance all her expenses and still make the house payments, but she was learning the importance of following a budget. Money was tight, but both her son and daughter understood that this was important. They all had to sacrifice if the business was going to survive.

The telephone rang, and Bethanne reached for it. Tucking the portable phone against her shoulder, she continued stirring. Pork and beans was the least expensive grocery item on her list, but she didn’t want to risk scorching them.

“This is Bethanne,” she said. When she could afford it, she intended to get a separate line for the party business.

“Ms. Hamlin, this is Gary Schroeder from Puget Sound Security.”

“Yes?”

“We talked briefly a few weeks ago about a loan application you’d submitted,” he said. “I hope I haven’t caught you at an inconvenient moment.”

Bethanne tried to remember this particular loan officer, but drew a blank. She’d been ushered in and out of each financial institution in record time, so it was little wonder she didn’t recall meeting him.

“This is fine.” The timer on the oven told her the birthday cake was finished.

“Perhaps it would be better if you stopped by our loan department at your earliest convenience,” he suggested.

“Ah.” Bethanne rationed her gas usage and preferred not to take unnecessary trips. “If you could tell me what this is about, I might be able to manage that,” she said. With the phone still pressed against her shoulder, she opened the oven door, slid out the top rack and tested the cake by inserting a toothpick into the center.

“There’s a check waiting for you, Ms. Hamlin,” the loan officer replied warmly.

“A check? The bank reconsidered?”

“We can discuss that when you arrive.”

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she said, her heart pounding hard. This was incredible! She couldn’t imagine what had convinced the bank to finally approve her loan. Whatever it was, she was ready to throw her arms around this man she couldn’t even remember meeting.

With the cake cooling on the counter and the beans in the fridge, Bethanne drove to the bank and parked in their nearby lot.

She found the desk with Gary Schroeder’s name and approached him, thrusting out her hand. “I’m Bethanne Hamlin,” she announced, then realized she still had her apron on. “Oops,” she said, untying it. “As you can see, I left in kind of a hurry.”

He gestured toward the chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Bethanne sat, perched on the edge of the chair.

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” he said.

“No problem. I did understand you correctly, didn’t I?” She gazed at him earnestly. “You did approve my loan?”

His mouth thinned. “Actually, no.”

“No,” she gasped. “Then why did you drag me all the way down here? I’m a busy woman, Mr. Schroeder. I have a business to run and—” The disappointment was so overwhelming she couldn’t finish. Not only had she wasted her time, but the gauge on her gas tank was hovering at empty. Raising her hopes like this was unfair! She stood up, ready to walk away, but Mr. Schroeder stopped her.

“You don’t have an account with our bank,” he began. “And—”

“Trust me,” she broke in. “I have no intention of opening one now if this is the kind of trick you pull on your customers.”

“Ms. Hamlin,” he said, lifting one hand in a conciliatory gesture. “I apologize for upsetting you, but this is a rather … unusual situation. Please, sit down.”

Bethanne reclaimed her chair and tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

“Early this morning, I received a call from a man who asked if you’d applied for a business loan with our institution. I can assure you it isn’t our policy to give out such information.”

“I should hope not.”

“The man, who requested not to be identified, said he’d like five thousand dollars deposited into your account.”

“But—as you said—I don’t have an account here.”

“Which I explained. He then asked if it would be possible to get you the loan amount you’d requested.”

“I’m afraid I’m confused,” Bethanne said.

“I don’t blame you. I was confused myself.”

“So, what does this mean?”

“It means that this person, who again asked that his identity not be revealed, wants to give you the money.”

“Give me the money,” she repeated.

“That’s right.”

Bethanne leaned forward in her chair. “Let me see if I understand this. Someone I don’t know wants to hand over five thousand dollars cash—to me. What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch.”

She still wasn’t sure she could believe this. “You’re positive about that?”

He nodded. “With the proviso that if the opportunity arises, you will do the same for someone else.”

“I see—well, I think I do. Sort of.”

“In other words,” he continued, opening a file. “I have a cashier’s check for you in the amount of five thousand dollars.”

Her jaw sagged open as the reality set in. She stared at Gary Schroeder, unable to comprehend who would do such a thing. Then it came to her. She knew of only one possible person who’d want to help her like this, and while she couldn’t be sure, she felt she had to ask.

“I have a friend…. The money doesn’t happen to come from a man by the name of Paul Ormond, does it?”

Mr. Schroeder shook his head. “As I explained earlier, your benefactor has requested anonymity.”

“But it isn’t Paul?”

He smiled kindly. “No.”

Bethanne tried to think who else her benefactor might be. It didn’t seem at all likely that Grant would do this. She realized he had regrets about the divorce, but if he’d found it in his heart to give her this money, he’d certainly want her to know what he’d done.

“Grant Hamlin?” she asked, just in case.

Again the loan officer shook his head. “I can’t tell you any more, but I will let you know this. The man who contacted us is not related to you in any way. I suggest you put your questions about his name out of your mind for now. Invest these funds wisely and validate this person’s faith in you.”

With the check clutched in her hand, Bethanne nodded and got slowly to her feet. “I will,” she promised. “I most certainly will.”

She couldn’t guess who had such faith in her ability, but she would take this gift and use it wisely, as the loan officer had advised. And, in keeping with her benefactor’s proviso, she’d pass on his generosity when she had the chance.

43

CHAPTER

COURTNEY PULANSKI

“Grandma, I don’t understand,” Courtney said, staring at the express mail envelope. It was addressed to her with no indication of the sender’s identity. As soon as she’d seen the contents, she’d forgotten that Grandma had become Grams months ago.

“What is it?” her grandmother asked, standing next to her in the foyer. The letter had been waiting for Courtney on the stair railing.

Courtney handed it to her grandmother as she slid her backpack from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

“It’s a cashier’s check,” Vera Pulanski murmured, sounding as shocked as Courtney.

“You didn’t do this?” Courtney asked, unable to think of anyone else who might be responsible.

“Me?” her grandmother exclaimed. “My goodness, child, if I had that kind of money, let me tell you I wouldn’t be spending it on a dress. Let’s see the card again.”

Courtney reached for the envelope and pulled out the typewritten note. It read: BUY A DRESS AS BEAUTIFUL AS YOU ARE AND HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME AT HOMECOMING. It was signed YOUR FAIRY GODFATHER.

Vera shook her head hopelessly. “I have no idea. It’s got to be someone who knows you … Could it be your dad?”

“No, it was sent locally. Dated yesterday—Wednesday. And why would Dad do something like this anonymously?”

Vera merely shrugged.

“I’ve got to tell Andrew,” Courtney sank down on the bottom step and picked up the phone. She was so excited she couldn’t dial the number fast enough. Grams, of course, had that old-fashioned rotary phone, black and cumbersome. Annie was the one who answered.

“Annie!” she cried. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

“What?”

“Someone sent me money for Homecoming. It’s a huge sum of money. Huge.”

“How huge?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

Annie released a low whistle. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. Is Andrew home?” She wasn’t sure why it seemed so important to tell him about this. She supposed it was so he’d know she planned to do him proud. Since he’d asked her to the Homecoming dance, they’d talked several times a day. Just last night, they’d spent almost two hours on the phone.

Once word got out at school that Andrew Hamlin had asked her to be his date, she’d attracted a lot of attention. Some of the most popular kids were talking to her now—the very ones who hadn’t seen fit to even acknowledge her a couple of weeks ago. She wasn’t taken in by their interest, which struck her as false and opportunistic. While she was friendly and polite, these were not people she wanted as friends.

“Sorry,” Annie said, sounding as disappointed as Courtney. “Andrew isn’t back from football practice, but I’ll tell him to phone you the minute he walks in the door.”

Courtney should’ve realized Andrew would still be at school. “I’m so excited.” She had a dress, but it was a hand-me-down from her sister, who’d mailed it as soon as Courtney told her about the date. Rather frilly, it was a pretty pale-blue, much better suited to Julianna than her.

“It’s so cool that you’re dating my brother.”

“We aren’t dating,” Courtney reminded her friend. “We haven’t even gone out on a single date, and there’s nothing to say we will after tomorrow night.”

“You will,” Annie insisted. “Andrew and I talk, you know.”

Courtney bit her tongue to keep from questioning her about anything Andrew might’ve said. She knew that wouldn’t be right, despite her curiosity. Maybe she’d have a clearer sense of her future with Andrew after the dance.

Annie would be there, too, with a good friend of Andrew’s from the football team. Everything had worked out so well. Courtney could hardly believe it. Monica had been asked by a friend of Mike’s, and all four couples intended to go out after the dance.

“As your grandmother would say,” Annie continued, “Andrew’s smitten.”

Smitten. What a perfectly lovely word. “Oh, Annie, I think he’s just … wonderful.” No adjective satisfactorily described her feelings about Andrew Hamlin. Being with him made leaving Chicago for her senior year almost worthwhile.

“Who’d send you that kind of money?” Annie wondered.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Courtney was beyond conjecture.

“Your dad?” Annie suggested. “Or your brother?”

Courtney automatically shook her head. “No, neither of them,” she said.

“Then who?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the most fabulous gift I’ve ever received.” The doorbell chimed just then. “There’s someone at the door. Grams is in the kitchen, so I’d better get it.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Andrew you called.”

“Thanks.” She could hardly wait to talk to him.

Hurrying to the door, Courtney opened it and gasped out loud when she saw her sister, suitcase in hand. “Julianna!”

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” her sister asked. “Courtney, my goodness, look at you! You’re gorgeous. Who would’ve thought those pounds would make such a difference.”

Tears of joy sprang to Courtney’s eyes as she threw open the screen door. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hugging her tightly.

In seconds they were both laughing and weeping simultaneously. The commotion was enough to bring their grandmother out from the kitchen. Soon her squeals of delight mingled with theirs.

“My, oh my, this is lovely,” Grams said, pulling Julianna into the living room. “But—how did you get here?”

“By plane. The most amazing thing happened. I got an express letter that said my baby sister’s been asked to Homecoming by the star football player. Which I knew, of course. The letter suggested Courtney might need a little help getting ready for the big dance.”

Her grandmother raised both hands. “I’m telling you right now, I had nothing to do with this.”

“There was an airline ticket in the envelope,” Julianna explained. “Also included was a long list of instructions. The first was that a car service would arrange to drive me to O’Hare, and that another car would be waiting to pick me up at Sea-Tac. It would then drive me to Grams’s house, but I was warned I couldn’t say anything to either of you in advance.”

“Well, I, for one, am surprised,” Courtney whispered, her cheeks still wet with tears.

“I was given a cashier’s check for my expenses, but it’s far more money than I’ll need. I’m thinking we should make an appointment for your hair and your nails as soon as we can.”

“My hair and nails, too?” Courtney whispered, so overwhelmed she could barely speak.

Grams looked utterly perplexed. “I wish I’d thought of it, but even if I had, I never would’ve been able to afford all this.”

“Our carriage awaits,” her sister announced grandly. “Well, the car. But the driver’s in livery.” She giggled. “I mean, a uniform—but isn’t this just like Cinderella?”

“Why’s the car waiting?” Courtney felt as if she had, indeed, been dropped into the middle of her favorite fairy tale. At the good part, though, when the godmother materializes and waves her wand around. Or godfather, she corrected, and it was a check, not a wand.

“The car’s going to take us all to dinner,” Julianna said. “We have reservations at Morton’s on 4th Avenue. From there, the driver will drop Courtney and me at the mall and take you home, Grams. We’re supposed to arrange a time and place for him to meet us when we’re finished.”

“I can’t believe this,” Courtney shrieked, giving way to her excitement. “I just can’t believe this.”

“I must admit this is some Fairy Godfather you’ve got,” Julianna teased.

“Let me grab my sweater,” Vera said. “I didn’t feel like cooking tonight, anyway.”

Courtney led her sister upstairs so they could leave her suitcase in one of the spare rooms. “How long can you stay?” she asked.

“Just until Saturday afternoon. I have to get back, and whoever arranged this seemed to know that, too.”

“Have you talked to Jason?”

She shook her head. “It isn’t him,” she said with a laugh. “He doesn’t have a dime to his name. In fact, he’s always trying to borrow from me—as if I had anything extra.”

The phone rang just as they were leaving the house. Courtney debated whether she should answer it, and then decided it might be Andrew. With her grandmother’s ancient phone, Caller ID wasn’t an option, even if she’d been willing to spring for it. So phone calls were always a mystery.

“Hello,” she answered, hoping it was Andrew.

“You called?”

“I did. Oh, Andrew, the most wonderful thing’s happened! But I don’t have time to explain everything right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she laughed, giddy with joy, “my sister’s here and there’s a car waiting to take me shopping for a Homecoming dress, and Andrew—oh, Annie can tell you about it.”

“This must be the day for good news.”

“What do you mean?” Everyone was waiting on the porch, but she had to know.

“It won’t be official until tomorrow, but I’ve been elected Homecoming King.”

“Oh, Andrew! Congratulations.”

“Nothing in this world would make me prouder than to have you with me on Friday night.”

Running light-heartedly out to the car, Courtney couldn’t stop smiling. She didn’t know what she’d done that could have merited such generosity, but she’d be forever grateful to whoever had decided to become her Fairy Godfather.

She didn’t think she’d ever been happier in her life.

44

CHAPTER

“When in doubt, grab a ball of yarn and Get Creative!”

—Sasha Kagan, Sasha Kagan Knitwear.

LYDIA HOFFMAN

It was more than a week since I’d seen Brad. My anger had cooled and I wished I could take back some of what I’d said. I hoped he felt the same way. Tuesday morning when I removed the Closed sign from my door, I took the opportunity to glance up and down the street. It was too early to see Brad’s UPS truck, but I was hopeful nonetheless. I hadn’t figured out what I’d say, but I knew I’d be far less emotional than last week at Green Lake.

It had been an incredible few days. Friday afternoon, Courtney came by to introduce me to her older sister. They had a fantastic story about a fairy godfather who’d stepped in to ensure that her date for Homecoming would be as perfect as it could possibly be. I couldn’t imagine who’d do anything like that. I think Courtney somehow expected me to know, but I didn’t.

On Saturday it was Bethanne who arrived with an equally fantastic story of a mysterious benefactor who’d given her the money she needed, no strings attached. A gift, not a loan. The only stipulation was that she help someone else if she was ever in a position to do so.

Exuberant, she dashed across the street with a business idea that involved Alix—a contract to provide birthday cakes and other desserts for the various events Bethanne arranged.

I was thrilled for both Bethanne and Courtney. If this fairy godfather had any extra fairy dust available, I could use some myself—not that I expected any magic in my life.

The bell chimed, and Margaret walked in promptly at ten. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

“Morning,” I responded. I thought of asking her about her good mood but hesitated, wondering if she’d volunteer the information herself. Often it’s still difficult to know how best to approach my sister.

“It looks like you had a good weekend,” I finally ventured, somewhat cautiously.

“We sure did.” She was practically skipping as she entered the store. I trailed behind her to the office.

“Did you do anything fun?” I asked. I was thinking maybe dinner out or a movie.

“Better than anything you can imagine!” She gave me a huge smile. Not a typical Margaret smile, either, which often seemed more of a grimace, but a wide, unstinting smile that changed her whole face.

“Oh?” I said, dying of curiosity.

She opened her purse and removed an envelope, which she handed me with a dramatic flourish.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

I’ll admit I was eager enough to tear it open. Inside was a card and a check. I noticed the amount and gasped—it was for the entire bank loan of ten thousand dollars. The card was a thank-you note written to me by my brother-in-law and signed by both Margaret and Matt.

“What … how—” I stammered, hardly able to form a question.

“Matt has a wonderful new job.”

My guess was that this new job had nothing to do with painting houses. “The money …”

“A signing bonus.”

“But …”

“We talked it over, Matt and I, when you first gave us the money. Matt was so touched that you’d do this for us. I can’t even begin to tell you what a difference it made to be able to keep the house. We—we’ve never gotten this far behind, and it was a blow to both of us. We’re terribly grateful for what you did, but we always felt the money had to be a loan.”

“But …” I couldn’t seem to get out more than one word at a time—and it takes a lot to leave me speechless.

“The truly astounding part is that Matt hadn’t even applied with this particular engineering firm. Their Human Resources department contacted him on Thursday and asked him to submit an application immediately, which he did. They didn’t have it longer than a day before he heard back and the negotiations began.”

“That’s marvelous!”

“It is—more than you know. I’ve hardly ever seen Matt so excited. He was like a little kid when he got the news. He started work yesterday. I wanted to say something on Friday, but we decided to wait until everything was in place—and we could give you this.” She pointed to the check.

“Margaret,” I said, hugging my sister. “Are you sure? I mean, there must be a hundred things you need. Keep the money, repay me when you can.”

“No,” she returned sternly. “This is yours, and neither Matt nor I will hear of anything else.”

“Wow,” I whispered, “the fairy dust is flying all over the place.” I don’t think my sister realized what a turning point that loan was for me, in more ways than one. Perhaps for the first time since I became an adult, I’d truly stepped outside myself. I know that sounds odd, but it has to do with the rather insular life I’d lived for so many years. What I mean is, when I was a teenager and in my twenties, my whole life revolved around my sickness and consequently around me. Not until I opened the shop on Blossom Street did I begin to understand how self-absorbed I’d become.

This had been an especially difficult summer for me as I learned to consider needs and concerns other than my own. It was a financial stretch to help Margaret and Matt, but I badly wanted to give back to my sister and her family for all the sacrifices they’d made on my behalf.