Blossom Street

47

CHAPTER

BETHANNE HAMLIN

“Mom, phone!” Annie shouted from the top of the stairs.

“Which line?” Bethanne called from the kitchen, her hands buried in hamburger.

“Business line. Do you want me to take it?”

“I’ll get it.” Bethanne nearly groaned. The party business was doing so well that she was booked months in advance. She washed her hands, then walked into the room that had once been Grant’s office—her office now—where she kept the schedule for the upcoming parties.

She answered the call, scheduled an appointment for a consultation and went back to the kitchen, where she was shaping small meatballs around green olives for a six-year-old’s Halloween birthday bash. Not long afterward, Annie drifted downstairs.

“You need any help with those?” she asked.

“Not now, but I will later.” Annie had been a valuable asset the previous summer and still was, even in her senior year of high school. Bethanne had hired her on a part-time, as-needed basis, which was good for both of them. She had several other assistants, but working with Annie kept them close and connected. “That’s why I pay you the big bucks, you know.”

“Very funny, Mom.”

The phone rang again and Bethanne looked from her hands to her daughter. “Do you want to get that for me?”

“Hey, I have to earn those high wages you’re supposedly paying me, don’t I?” Annie joked. She reached for the receiver and answered “Parties by Bethanne” in a professional tone.

Her daughter was almost an adult; every once in a while Bethanne realized that with a jolt of recognition—and pride. A year from now she’d be alone, with both her children in college. The thought no longer terrified her. When the time came she’d be able to afford it, which thrilled her. And she certainly wouldn’t be lonely or at loose ends…. In fact, she’d been giving some thought to expanding her business in untraditional ways. One plan involved Lydia—a knitting party, in which Bethanne would serve food and drinks, and Lydia would teach everyone how to knit. The idea was still in its infancy, as was another idea for a children’s storytelling party that Elise would help her with.

“It’s Paul,” Annie told her. “Do you want to phone him back later?”

Bethanne still saw Paul on occasion, but it had been a couple of months since they’d talked. “Tell him I’ll call him back. I’ve got an errand to run and I’ll be home after six.”

“Where are you going?”

“Lydia’s,” she answered, finishing up the meatballs and arranging them on a baking tray.

“Here.” Annie held the phone against Bethanne’s ear. “You tell him all that.”

Bethanne quickly agreed to meet Paul for coffee at the French Café across from A Good Yarn. “See you at six,” she said.

“What was that about?” Annie asked.

“I think Paul’s going to tell me it’s serious with Angela,” she said, and the news cheered her. His relationship with this new woman in his life sounded promising.

“How come you’re going to Lydia’s?” Annie asked next, eyeing Bethanne suspiciously.

“You’re certainly nosy,” she teased.

“Inquiring minds want to know.”

Bethanne laughed and shook her head. She should’ve realized that keeping anything from Annie was an exercise in futility. “If you must know, I need another ball of yarn for my current project.”

“And your current project is?”

Bethanne heaved a sigh of resignation. “A sweater for my daughter.”

“That pink cashmere sweater is for me?” Annie cried, absolutely delighted if the smile on her face was any indication.

“Yes, for you, but no longer a surprise.”

“Mom, I love that sweater and I’m so excited you’re knitting it for me.”

Bethanne knit almost every night; it was her one true relaxation. At the same time, she was practical enough to like the fact that she could produce something both useful and beautiful. It seemed like a hundred years ago that her teenage daughter had taken the initiative and signed Bethanne up for the knitting class. She’d graduated from socks to sweaters and was planning to knit an afghan to give Andrew for Christmas.

Bethanne left the meatballs baking in the oven, instructing Annie to take them out in half an hour. As she drove to the yarn store, she found herself thinking about the day Grant had walked out. That had been the worst moment of her life, but every day since had been better than the one before. She was independent and happy; her children were doing well.

Both Andrew and Annie had worked on improving their relationships with their father, and they were at peace. She knew Grant wasn’t happy, and in many ways she felt sorry for him. However, he’d made his choices, and she couldn’t and didn’t concern herself with him anymore. She had her own life to live.

Luckily there was a space directly in front of A Good Yarn and Bethanne took it, hopped out of her car and placed the appropriate coins in the parking meter. She only had a few minutes before Lydia closed the store.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t make it in time,” she said, walking through the door.

“Bethanne!” Lydia sounded delighted to see her. Coming around the counter, Lydia hugged her, then brought out the skein of pink cashmere she’d put aside. “It’s the same dye lot as the original,” Lydia assured her. She stepped back to the cash register. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”

“I feel the same way,” Bethanne said. “I’ve got a free Friday afternoon next week, so I’ll drop in for the charity knitting session. How’s everyone?” She hadn’t been in two weeks and missed seeing the women who’d become so special to her.

“Everyone’s great,” Lydia told her. “Jacqueline is still in seventh heaven over her new granddaughter. She brought pictures.”

“More pictures?” Bethanne said with a laugh. She paid for her wool, glancing around the store. It was easy to see that the little shop on Blossom Street continued to thrive. She loved the new designer yarns and the increased inventory. Lydia had scored a success, and Bethanne hoped her own fledgling business would emulate it.

“Can I tell everyone you’ll be by next week?” Lydia asked, handing Bethanne her purchase.

“With bells on,” she promised and tucked the skein in its A Good Yarn bag inside her large purse.

Lydia smiled. “You look really good.”

“Thanks,” Bethanne said, and blushed a bit at the attention. She’d gotten plenty of that lately and wasn’t quite sure why. She felt good and suspected it showed. Life felt good. Her world had been thrown into upheaval, and had taken a long time to right itself.

When she left the yarn store, she saw that Paul had arrived at the café and had a table. He stood when she entered, waving. She waved back, saw Alix at the counter and sent her friend a smile before joining Paul.

“Angela will be here in a few minutes,” he explained, indicating the third mug on the table.

“How is she?” Bethanne asked, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

“She’s engaged.”

“Angela’s engaged,” Bethanne repeated in shock—before she comprehended his meaning. “To you!”

“I should hope so,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Congratulations.” Bethanne half stood to hug him. “That’s just fabulous!” Her instincts had been right, and this news was all the validation she needed. Falling in love with each other would have been easy, but it would’ve been like taking refuge in a safe harbor rather than venturing out into riskier seas. She’d needed courage to take the stand she did. Paul hadn’t wanted to get involved with anyone else, and in the beginning he’d found the transition from potential lover to friend difficult. Time and distance had helped.

“I didn’t think I’d ever fall this deeply in love again,” he confessed. “In fact, it’s better the second time around.”

“Oh, Paul …”

“It’s your turn,” he said.

“Perhaps, but I’m in no hurry.” And she wasn’t.

The door opened and a tall, lovely brunette walked into the café. Her eyes scanned the room; when she saw Paul, her face relaxed into a smile.

Paul stood and held out his hands to her, and Bethanne watched as Angela approached him. Paul kissed her on the cheek and she sat down next to Bethanne. She’d met Angela briefly a couple of months back and it had become obvious to her then that this woman was special to Paul.

“I understand congratulations are in order.”

Angela nodded. “We’ve decided on a winter date, and it would mean the world to both of us if you’d plan our wedding.”

Bethanne smiled. She’d only arranged one other wedding—Elise and Maverick’s—and if this one went half as well … Nothing would give her greater joy than to be involved in the wedding of her dear friend.

“I’d be delighted,” she told them both.

“And like I said,” Paul insisted with his arm around Angela’s shoulders, “you’re next.”

Still smiling, Bethanne shrugged off his words. The divorce hadn’t disillusioned her about love and marriage. If anything, it’d confirmed the importance of family and commitment. Remarrying wasn’t a priority, but an option—something that might well be part of her future.

In the meantime, she had her children, her friends, her work. She’d rediscovered herself, become the woman she wanted to be, and found new pleasure in the things she loved to do—like gardening and reading and above all, knitting.

It was enough.

48

CHAPTER

ELISE BEAUMONT

Elise glanced at the recipe again, adding flaxseed and blueberries to the mix. She’d taken it upon herself to see to it that Maverick ate healthy, nutritious meals. She believed this would help in his fight against leukemia.

So far, his progress had been encouraging. Maverick was quick to credit her and the meals she so carefully planned. Elise, however, demurred at his praise; yes, a proper diet played its part, but it was love that had kept Maverick alive this long.

“What are you baking now?” Maverick asked from where he sat in the condo living room, the newspaper on his lap. The view of Seattle was spread out before them.

“Goodies.”

“The boys love your goodies, you know.”

Elise grinned. He wasn’t referring to their grandsons, although Luke and John were quite impressed with her baking skills. The minute they walked into the condo they went directly to the cookie jar, anticipating a treat.

“What time will the boys get here?” she asked, and slid the muffin tin into the preheated oven. These “boys” were Maverick’s cronies, who stopped by two and sometimes three times a week for a friendly game of poker. He’d met them at the local poker parlor where he’d first played in order to win a slot in the tournament.

“They’ll be here at three,” he said. He was apparently well-known in the gambling world. His initial failures, during their marriage, had made her angry and fearful. In her fear—and self-righteousness—Elise had preferred to think of him as living from hand to mouth. In reality, he’d become a success. But he didn’t encourage anyone else to choose the life he’d lived, and in fact, dissuaded others from becoming professional gamblers. In retrospect he wished he’d made a different choice.

Elise joined her husband in the living room and sat on the arm of his chair. He held her around the waist and sighed, his eyes closing. He was tired, she knew. A session of tests at the doctor’s office that day had drained him, but the most recent news had bolstered both their spirits. The progression of the leukemia had slowed considerably. They’d gotten a reprieve. Elise didn’t know how long this would continue, but she figured every single day with him was a blessing she hadn’t anticipated.

“Why don’t you take a nap before the game?” she suggested.

“I think I will.”

She slipped off the chair and sat across from him as Maverick lay back in the recliner. Reaching for her white wicker basket, Elise unfolded her pattern. She was knitting Maverick a lap robe for times like this. The needles made small clicking sounds. Comforting sounds.

They’d been together a year now, and not once had she regretted remarrying Maverick. Every day since then had been a honeymoon. She loved the way he loved their daughter and their grandchildren. He’d seen to Aurora’s future and David’s, and to those of Luke and John with trust funds.

The matter of Elise’s lawsuit had been resolved. A portion of her down payment had been refunded; it was more than she’d expected and less than she would’ve liked. The money she’d received was currently invested. That chapter of Elise’s life was closed, and she was grateful to have survived it financially.

She’d never told her knitting friends that Maverick was the one responsible for their good fortune. It’d been tempting, but she’d kept quiet. As Courtney described her beautiful dress and shared the details of the Homecoming dance and the visit with her sister—thanks to the generosity of her fairy godfather—Elise had listened and silently cheered. Tears had gathered in her eyes as she tried to remember each and every word so she could repeat it to Maverick.

The difference his gift had made to Bethanne was even more striking. She’d told Elise privately about the stranger who’d given her a head start on her business, and how much those few thousand dollars had meant to her. That money had changed everything and had come to her when she most needed it.

Bethanne had an impressive business vision. Elise wouldn’t be surprised by anything she undertook. A few years from now, Bethanne’s party business could well become a franchise. Her ideas were original, fresh, inventive. Maverick’s generosity had contributed to Bethanne’s success, and someday her friend would give a similar gift of money and encouragement to another struggling entrepreneur. Elise found pleasure and pride in knowing that.

Not once in all the weeks afterward had Bethanne breathed a word about the money to the women in the knitting group. That was just as well. If Bethanne had said something in addition to what Courtney had already mentioned, their friends might have figured it out. Maverick didn’t want any thanks or displays of appreciation; he preferred to remain anonymous, unacknowledged.

Elise smiled to herself as she continued knitting. She suspected Lydia knew. She’d never come right out and asked Elise, but she’d casually said one day that there seemed to be a fairy godfather at work in their group. Elise had tried to suggest it must’ve been Courtney’s dad, but Lydia just shook her head. Thankfully, she didn’t bring it up again. Elise didn’t want to mislead a woman she considered one of her best friends.

She heard the timer on the stove and set aside her knitting to check the cupcakes. Turning off the oven, she took out the muffin tin and placed it on a cooling rack. The scent of warm blueberries filled the kitchen. She intended to slather the cupcakes with a cream cheese frosting and serve them to Maverick and his friends. Little did the “boys” realize how healthy these desserts were.

A half hour later, Maverick woke, looking noticeably rested. He glanced at his watch; the game would start in less than twenty minutes.

Predictably enough, the phone started to ring at three o’clock and Bart, the first of the boys, arrived. He was quickly followed by Al and Fred.

“Smells mighty good in here,” Bart said, sniffing the air. He winked at Elise. “No one bakes better’n you, no sir. I’ll bet those taste as good as they smell, too.”

Elise smiled at the blatant flattery. “I’ll see what I can do to make sure you get one, Bart.”

He grinned. “I do appreciate that, Mrs. Beaumont.”

Al and Fred weren’t far behind, staggering playfully toward the kitchen, led by their noses.

“You been baking again?” Al asked, hat in his hands, eyes comically wide.

Maverick shared a secret smile with her. “You’re spoiling my friends,” he murmured.

“Those for us poor old men?” Fred rubbed his hands together. “Us poor hungry old men …”

“Would you three stop it,” Elise said, halfheartedly attempting to hold in a laugh. “You know darn well I always bake on Tuesdays.”

Bart poked his elbow in Al’s ribs. “That’s the reason we’re here, remember?”

“I thought you came for the poker,” Maverick teased.

“That, too.”

Chuckling, they gathered around the kitchen table. Maverick pulled out a deck of cards and shuffled. Each one bought in for twenty dollars; the winner of the “tournament” took home the pot.

Within minutes, they were involved in their game. Elise frosted the cupcakes, then went back to her knitting. When the men had finished, she served coffee and cupcakes to the accompaniment of much praise and fulsome thanks.

Maverick caught her eye and she smiled at the man she loved. Her husband smiled back. Being in love did something for a woman, she decided. There was no feeling, no experience, to equal it.

49

CHAPTER

“Sock knitting teaches us to take one step at a time—cuff, heel, foot, toe—and not to be overwhelmed by the big picture.”

—Kathy Zimmerman, Kathy’s Kreations, Ligonier, PA. www.kathys-kreations.com

LYDIA HOFFMAN

There’s a lull at the shop, and after a busy morning, I’ve decided to take a break in the office. Margaret will handle the customers while I put my feet up. It’s been rush, rush, rush all morning.

A Good Yarn is doing well—so well—and I’m grateful. I sometimes feel as if I’m living in a dream. I know I’m not, because the diamond on my finger sparkles and my heart is full of love for Brad and Cody. I’m quite possibly the happiest woman in the world. I’m engaged to marry the hand-so-mest, most wonderful man alive. Within a couple of months, I’ll be living with Brad and Cody and Chase. Whiskers, thankfully, tolerates Cody’s dog and will probably teach him some discipline.

I don’t think my life could get any better than it is right at this moment.

When I first opened the doors to A Good Yarn, it was my affirmation of life. Little did I realize, two years ago, what would happen and all the friends I would make. Jacqueline, Carol and Alix have become very dear to me. They were the three who gave me my start.

I’ve held several classes since the baby blanket class. All of them were good, but none of those relationships matched the closeness I felt with my first three students. Until recently, with the sock class. That was when Elise, Bethanne and Courtney entered the shop and my life. I didn’t think it was possible to feel as close to another class as I did my original one, but again life has taught me a valuable lesson.

I recall how difficult Elise was that first day, fretting over her ex-husband’s coming visit. And Bethanne, with her self-esteem shattered by her divorce, and Courtney, a lonely, overweight teenager struggling with a loss of her own. The four of us connected through knitting—who would’ve thought a pair of socks could change your life? I treasure each one of these women as a true friend, the same way I do Jacqueline, Carol and Alix.

Then there’s my sister. I never thought the day would come when I’d claim my sister as my very best friend. Well, that day has arrived. We’re closer now than at any other time in our lives. And that special understanding started when she first came to work at the shop.

My sister and I are sharing the responsibility of looking after Mom. Her health is declining rapidly and I suspect we won’t have her with us much longer. That makes each day we have her all the more precious. She’s still lonely without Dad, still a bit lost.

Both Margaret and I work hard at keeping her busy. We make sure she has lots of small things to look forward to each week—a visit, an outing, shopping, a new book. Anything that we know will bring her joy.

Mom is knitting more and Margaret’s been picking her up on Friday afternoons so she can join the other women who do charity knitting. She enjoys these occasions and feels part of the knitting community. My mother is a fast knitter and she’s contributed enough patches to make an entire blanket for Warm Up America, plus another for the Linus Project. I think Dad would be very pleased to see the three of us working together, knitting.

I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts that Margaret’s standing directly in front of me before I notice her. “I’m leaving to pick up Mom,” she announces.

“Great.” I lower my feet. I’m generally not this tired on a Friday morning, but Brad, Cody and I were at a Mariners’ playoff game last night and it went into extra innings. I didn’t get to bed until after midnight and had to be up early to meet with a yarn sales rep. Brad and Cody, my two sweethearts, are real baseball fans and I’ve learned to love the game, so it wasn’t any sacrifice to be out so late.

Soon after Margaret’s departure, Elise comes into the shop, carrying her knitting. The changes in Elise since she remarried Maverick would make anyone a believer in marriage! She’s so much more relaxed now and genuinely happy.

I’ve pretty much figured out that Maverick was our fairy godfather, although I’ve never asked her directly and she hasn’t volunteered the information.

“Where’s Maverick?” I ask. He almost always accompanies Elise on Fridays. I’ve purchased a special chair for him, so he can read while the rest of us knit and talk. Maverick’s face might be hidden behind a book, but he’s listening. He always was a good listener, or so Elise tells me. Each one of us has more or less adopted Maverick. I know his condition is stable, and although we’re all pleased by that, we worry, too. His immune system has been compromised by the treatments. But Elise is taking good care of him. Those two are so happy together, so accepting of each other. It almost seems that love is what they’re living on now.

“He’s parking the car,” Elise says. “He’ll be along shortly.”

“How is he?” I ask.

“Doing really well.” From the look in her eyes I know she’s telling the truth, and I’m relieved. “Bethanne’s here, too, and I saw Jacqueline and Carol over at the French Café, chatting with Alix. I imagine they won’t be long.”

“Great.”

A small package had arrived from Courtney earlier in the week, with several patches for the Warm Up America blanket we’re currently working on. She has a whole group of girls in her dorm knitting now. Inside was a long letter that I plan to read to the entire group.

According to Bethanne, Courtney keeps in touch with Annie and Andrew. It’ll be interesting to see if Courtney and Andrew can maintain a long-distance relationship. I know Bethanne has encouraged both of them to date others and I believe they do. Above all, they’re good friends; I hope they stay friends.

Speaking of Bethanne, I don’t see her as often as I’d like. We’re all so proud of her. And not just because of her success with the business, either. Let me add that she’s planning Brad’s and my wedding, and I wouldn’t trust that to anyone else.

No, the real reason for my pride in her is the way she’s virtually reinvented herself, the way she’s found confidence, in herself and in others. As I remember it, she didn’t even sign up for the class on her own. Her daughter made the phone call on her behalf.

And I feel that we in the class—but especially Elise—can take some of the credit for encouraging that transformation.

The bell rings above the door and Brad strolls into the shop. We see each other nearly every day now that the date for the wedding’s been set. Alix has volunteered to bake the cake and Jacqueline insists we have the reception at the country club, but Bethanne is the one organizing it all. Margaret has agreed to be my matron of honor, and I have six bridesmaids. Six! It wasn’t hard to decide who I wanted to stand up with me—my dearest friends. My knitting friends.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Brad greets me, wheeling his cart with an expert hand. “How are you this beautiful afternoon?”

I smile back. Fine, I tell him. Better than fine. Happy and very much in love with him and with life in the shop on Blossom Street.