Blossom Street

Her daughter answered with a nod. “I told him, but he still wants to come.”

“For … how long?”

Aurora hesitated. “Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Elise exploded. The book fell onto the patio floor as she sat upright. “That’s out of the question! You can’t possibly believe the two of us can remain in the same house—together—for that length of time.” She blamed Maverick for this. He’d manipulated their daughter into agreeing to it, no doubt because he was down on his luck and penniless. Elise wanted to weep. “I’ll find someplace else for a while,” she murmured, thinking out loud. Really, that would be her preference, but all her things were in storage and God only knew where she could move for that short a period.

“Mom, calm down.” Then, in a softer voice, she added, “Please. There’s no need to overreact.”

Sliding her legs over the edge of the chaise, Elise felt like burying her face in her hands, an urge she resisted. This was going to be a disaster, but her daughter didn’t seem to recognize that.

“Dad’s never asked anything of me before,” Aurora said. “I couldn’t refuse him.”

“He tried the pity approach?”

“No,” she snapped and seemed offended that Elise would suggest it. “He didn’t. Dad has always been generous and wonderful to David, me and the boys.”

“The man isn’t to be trusted.”

“That’s only the way you view him, but to me, he’s my father.”

Elise felt guilty all over again. She was determined not to say another negative word about her ex-husband. “Okay, so he’s going to visit for a couple of weeks.”

Aurora nodded.

“And you’re sure he knows I’m living with you?”

“Yes.” From the tone of her daughter’s voice, Elise suspected this was a complication Maverick hadn’t expected. Well, whatever he was after, whatever he wanted, he’d have to get it past Elise—and she, thankfully, was wise to him. She wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Where will he sleep?” The three-bedroom house was adequate in size but there wasn’t a guest room. Elise had taken the third bedroom and arranged it into a tiny studio-like apartment. She had a microwave, her own bathroom, a television area complete with rocking chair, and her single bed. That was all she needed. She had privacy, a small refuge from the world, and could retreat to her room in order to give her daughter and family their own space.

“I’m putting Dad in with the boys.”

That was a wise decision. Her grandsons, while an absolute delight, could be little hellions. Maverick was unaccustomed to being around children. Elise suspected he wouldn’t last long sleeping in the same room as Luke and John.

“This isn’t the easiest situation,” Aurora continued.

Elise rolled her eyes toward the sky. “That’s putting it mildly.” Then she instantly felt another wave of guilt.

“I need you to work with me, Mom, not against me.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” Elise told her daughter, hiding her distress that Aurora would even imply such a thing.

“But you want to hurt Dad.”

“That’s not true,” Elise denied hotly. “I don’t have any feelings toward your father one way or the other.” That was a lie and her face flushed with color as she said it.

“Mo—ther,” her daughter cried, challenge in each over-enunciated syllable. “You have so many unresolved issues with Dad, it would take days to list them all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Her daughter knew her well, but at this moment what mattered was maintaining a pretense of complete indifference. Somehow she’d survive these two weeks.

Aurora sampled her iced tea for the first time, her knuckles white around the glass. “I don’t want to get into that with you, especially now. I need your word that you won’t say or do anything, and I mean anything, to upset Dad.”

“I would never—”

“It’s crucial to keep the peace. I don’t want to subject the boys to your anger toward Dad.”

Elise was upset that her daughter could believe she’d be the one to cause problems. “You have my word I will do whatever I can to make your father’s stay as pleasant as possible.” If that meant hiding in her room for the next two weeks, then so be it.

“Don’t promise this lightly, Mom. It’s the most important request I’ve ever made of you.”

Elise wondered again whether she should move out and save them all this grief. Sadly, she had nowhere else to go. She was stuck in the same house with the man she’d both loved and hated for the last thirty-seven years.

7

CHAPTER

“Well-fitting and carefully knitted handmade socks are the ‘real’ ones; the store-bought variety are just pale imitations.”

—Diane Soucy, Knitting Pure & Simple, www.knittingpureandsimple.com

LYDIA HOFFMAN

This was my first sock class and I was excited about our one-o’clock gathering. In the last year, I’ve taught several classes, and I’ve learned in the course of teaching that it’s critical to have the right mix of personalities. I had my doubts about the women making up this class, but I didn’t want to borrow trouble.

The personalities of the three women who’d enrolled for this one reminded me of my first knitting class the year before. Elise, Bethanne and Courtney had nothing in common that I could see, except a desire to knit. I’d felt the same way about the baby blanket class with Jacqueline, Carol and Alix. They were as different as any three women could be and yet we’d all forged enduring friendships in a remarkably short time. I continued to marvel over that and hoped history would repeat itself, although I didn’t really expect it. Generally I’m not a pessimist—unlike my sister—but Elise Beaumont struck me as unyielding and circumspect, so self-contained. Bethanne Hamlin, judging by our brief meeting, was nervous and jittery, ready to run and hide at the slightest noise. Courtney Pulanski was a teenager. I felt sorry for her—the poor kid looked aghast when her grandmother insisted on signing her up. Unfortunately, I just didn’t see these three people as a good mix.

I cast a glance toward Margaret, who was busy with a customer as I prepared for the class. This morning, first thing, I’d given my sister an opportunity to open up to me about Matt’s work situation, but she remained closemouthed. I found it difficult to disguise my disappointment, but I didn’t feel I could let on what I knew. Nor did I want to pressure my sister into confiding in me. My heart ached for her—and for me, too. I had a dozen questions I was dying to ask; among my other concerns, I wanted to know how my nieces, Julia and Hailey, were handling this. I’ve always been close to them, and I believed they would have mentioned it to me unless Margaret had forbidden it. In some ways, I could understand my sister’s reluctance, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

The bell above the door chimed and Elise Beaumont walked into the shop. She wasn’t what I’d call a warm, friendly person, but she’d been cordial enough on our first meeting. This morning, however, she radiated displeasure. She also looked as if she hadn’t been sleeping well. Had I known her longer I might have asked, but since she was a new customer, I decided against it. Oh dear, this class was not getting off to a good start.

“Good morning.” I hoped my greeting would draw her out, but she frowned at me.

“I need to know how long this class will take.”

I reached for the flyer Margaret had made on the computer and handed it to her as a reminder. “Two hours.”

“I suppose that’ll be all right.” With a glum expression, Elise pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, placing her knitting bag in her lap.

I remembered that she’d already chosen what she’d need for the class—a self-patterning yarn in light blue with specks of gray and black. Presumably she’d be knitting her socks for a man.

No sooner was Elise at the table than Bethanne entered, dressed rather formally, in my opinion, followed almost immediately by Courtney, who couldn’t have looked less formal in her jeans and oversize T-shirt. Without a word they each walked to the back of the store and took a seat at the table, as far apart as possible.

I stepped up to one end and smiled. “I see we’re all here. I hope you’ll enjoy learning the craft of knitting socks with circular needles. We’re in for a bit of a knitting adventure, but I know you won’t be disappointed. I think it’d be best if we began with introductions. Why don’t you all tell us something about yourselves.”

My students stared up at me; they seemed to be waiting for someone else to start. “Okay, I’ll go first,” I said. “I’m Lydia Hoffman, and I opened A Good Yarn just over a year ago. I love knitting, and this gives me a chance to do something I really care about. I also love the opportunity to convert others.” I grinned as I said this and gestured to Courtney to go next.

The teenager straightened and glanced at the other two women. “Hi,” she said and gave a short wave. “My name is Courtney Pulanski. I’m seventeen, and I recently moved in with my grandmother for my senior year of high school. My mother died a few years ago and Dad’s working in Brazil as an engineer.” She hesitated, then added, “That about sums it up.”