Blossom Street

After their park visit, Carol steered Cameron into the yarn store. “Carol,” Lydia called out cheerfully. “Hello.” She squatted down so she was eye level with Cameron. “You, too, Cam.”

The baby grabbed for a skein of bright purple yarn but Carol was too quick for him and automatically rolled the stroller backward and away from the tempting yarn.

“I need another ball of that Paton worsted.”

“The olive-green, right?” Lydia had an uncanny ability to remember who’d bought what yarn for which project. Carol had so many projects going now, it was hard to keep track of them all. Lydia, however, had no such difficulty.

“Jacqueline was by earlier this afternoon,” Lydia said.

“She’s back?”

“With a gorgeous tan, too. She looks so happy,” Lydia said with a contented smile.

“That’s great.”

“She’ll be here Friday.”

“What about Alix?” The fourth member of their knitting group wasn’t always available on Fridays. It had been hit-and-miss with her because of culinary school commitments.

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t think she’ll be able to make it.”

Carol sighed. “I miss her when she can’t be here.”

“Me, too,” Lydia admitted. “Remember what we thought when she first signed up for the class?”

“I was convinced Jacqueline and Alix would go for each other’s throats within the first five minutes.” Carol laughed. “They were impossible, always sniping at each other.”

“It was like third grade all over again.”

“You’re telling me.” Carol marveled anew at how the relationship between those two had turned out.

“Jacqueline was ready to drop out more than once,” Lydia said, reminiscing.

Carol nodded. “I understood why she wanted to, but I’m so grateful she didn’t.”

“I am, too. And if Alix hadn’t stayed …”

They could never have guessed how one defiant, angry young woman would influence all their lives.

“Do you ever hear from Laurel?” Lydia asked.

“Not a word. Not since the day Cameron was born. She went into court on her own, signed the paperwork and walked out the door without a word to either Doug or me.”

“What about Alix? They used to be roommates.”

“If she’s heard from Laurel, she’s never mentioned it to us.”

“What about Jordan?”

Carol sighed. “I understand he hooked her up with a counselor and got her housing when the apartment building was sold.” The urge to take Cameron in her arms and hold him protectively against her was nearly overwhelming, but Carol resisted. “She was a sad, confused young woman with a lot of problems.”

“But she did one thing right in her life, and that was to give you and Doug her son.”

“I wish her well,” Carol murmured, and she meant it.

At some point, years from now, Cameron might be curious about his birth parents; he might even want to search for them. That decision would be his, but for now, during these formative years, this baby boy was hers and Doug’s. It was their love and their values that would shape him.

Lydia brought the yarn to the counter and rang it up. After Carol had paid for it, she tucked the plastic bag in the basket behind the stroller and headed for the door. “I’ll see you Friday afternoon.”

Lydia gave her a final wave and Carol wheeled the stroller down the sidewalk, past the florist and the café and toward the hill to the waterfront area and the condo.

She’d only been home a few minutes when Doug arrived. He kissed Carol, then reached down for Cameron, lifting him up and hugging him close. Carol was always profoundly moved when she saw her husband with his son. Cameron’s face lit with joy at the sight of his daddy and he squealed and clapped his hands.

The moment was poignant and real. They’d waited so long for this. They’d suffered and sacrificed but none of that seemed important now. They had their son. They had their family. Carol closed her eyes, holding on to this moment, experiencing it as fully as possible.

Doug sat on the floor and played with Cameron and together father and son stacked blocks while Carol looked on, tears moistening her eyes. She knew that in the years to come, everything might not be as perfect as it was today. It didn’t matter. She felt content and happy, and the emptiness that had nearly destroyed her was gone.

She was complete.

50

CHAPTER

ALIX TOWNSEND

Alix put the finishing touches on her crème brûlée and stepped back to give her instructor a chance to grade her work. Mr. Diamont moved forward and studied it with a discerning eye, then tapped the burnt sugar crust. He tasted the creamy custard beneath and nodded approvingly. He turned in her direction. “Nice job, Alix. You may go.”

Alix stared at her teacher, certain that she hadn’t heard him correctly. She didn’t wait long, however, but removed her hat and apron and hurried out of the class. Praise from Diamont was as rare as discretionary cash.

Her budget was tight and would be for the next year of the two-year program. Alix had lived on far less. The lack of money didn’t bother her because she was doing something she loved. Cooking. For years she’d dreamed of attending cooking school, but the tuition costs were as high as a college education. It would’ve continued to be far beyond her means if not for her friends Jacqueline and Reese Donovan.

Alix had met Reese shortly after Carol and Doug adopted Laurel’s baby. Reese had lots of prominent friends; through his connections he was able to steer her toward a scholarship program offered by a local service club. And if that wasn’t enough, Jacqueline had insisted Alix live in their guest house while she attended school. Their housekeeper had recently retired and now Alix had a house-cleaning job that supplied her with enough money to pay for her basic needs.

All of this seemed too good to believe. Every now and then, Alix had to pinch herself to prove this was real. To make sure it was happening to her, Alix Townsend.

Once she’d changed out of her uniform, Alix called Jordan’s cell from the pay phone in the locker room.

“Hi,” she said when he answered.

“Finished for the day?” He seemed to have been waiting for her call.

“Mr. Diamont said I could go.”

“Already? You must’ve done all right.”

“I must have,” she said, biting her lip to keep from bragging. There’d be plenty of time for that when she was out of earshot of the other students.

“I wonder what it would take to bribe you into making crème brûlée for me,” he said playfully. “It is my favorite dessert.”