About the Authors

DEBBIE MACOMBER is a number one New York Times bestselling author. Her recent books include 44 Cranberry Point, 50 Harbor Street, 6 Rainier Drive and Hannah’s List. She has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide and her work has appeared on every major bestseller list. There are more than a hundred million copies of her books in print. For more information on Debbie and her books, visit www.DebbieMacomber.com.

New York Times bestselling author SUSAN MALLERY has entertained millions of readers with her witty and emotional stories about women and the relationships that move them. Publishers Weekly calls Susan’s prose ‘luscious and provocative’ and Booklist says, ‘Novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humour and superb storytelling.’ While Susan appreciates the critical praise, she is most honoured by the enthusiastic readers who write to tell her that her books made them laugh, made them cry and made the world a happier place to live. Susan lives in Seattle with her husband and her tiny but intrepid toy poodle. She’s there for the coffee, not the weather. Visit Susan on the web at www.susanmallery.com.

CHRISTINA SKYE is the New York Times bestselling author of thirty-two books. She is a pushover for Harris tweed, Scottish cashmere, Chinese dumplings, French macarons and dark chocolate. Not necessarily in that order.

A classically trained China scholar with over two million books in print, she has appeared on various national television programmes, including ABC Worldwide News, Travel News Network, The Travel Show with Arthur Frommer, Geraldo, Voice of America, Looking East, and Good Morning, Arizona.

She generally has her knitting right beside her while she works. But don’t expect speed. ‘The sheer pleasure of colours and texture running through my fingers helps me concentrate on the mystery of characters coming alive before my eyes. Knitting pulls me to a quiet place where a story unfolds at its deepest level. It’s my best writing tool.’ Test-drive her knitting patterns at her website, where she explores the writer’s path, the joys of knitting and details about all her upcoming books.

The Knitting Diaries

The Twenty- First Wish

Debbie Macomber

Coming Unravelled

Susan Mallery

Return to Summer Island

Christina Skye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The Twenty- First Wish

Debbie Macomber

To

Candi Jensen

in gratitude for San Francisco yarn crawls,

wine on your back porch

and best of all

your friendship

Dear Friends,

The summer I turned twelve was the first time I picked up a pair of knitting needles. My mother wasn’t a knitter and I pestered her all summer because I so badly wanted to learn. Mom finally broke down and took me to a yarn store, where those wonderful ladies patiently taught me. The first thing I made was a purple vest for my mother—as a thank-you because she found a way for me to knit.

I believe I inherited my love of craft from my Grandmother Adler, my father’s mother, who died before I could have any memories of her. My older cousins have told me stories about Grandma sitting in her rocking chair, sound asleep and snoring while still crocheting. Yup, Grandma Adler was my kind of woman. Several of the pieces she crocheted have been passed down to us cousins and they are cherished treasures.

From the time I learned to knit until this very day, I’ve always had a project going. My writing career took a sharp turn upward after The Shop on Blossom Street was published. Combining my passions of knitting and writing was clearly what resonated so strongly with my readers. Knitting was and is an authentic part of my life.

When knitters get together, surprising things can happen, especially if those knitters also happen to be authors. The idea for this anthology came from Christina Skye, who is highly skilled as both a knitter and a writer. We were on a yarn crawl in San Francisco, driving from yarn store to yarn store with our friend Candi Jensen, when Christina casually said, ‘We should think about writing a knitting anthology together.’ We took the idea to our publisher and from that point forward it was a go. Susan Mallery is a new knitter, but she added some great ideas, so here we are.

I hope you enjoy The Twenty-First Wish and this return visit with characters from Blossom Street.

As always I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at my website at www.DebbieMacomber.com or at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA. OK, needles ready …

PS You might recognise Candi Jensen’s name. She’s the talented producer of the Emmy-nominated PBS series Knit and Crochet Today and one incredible knitter and crocheter.

Courtney’s Wedding Purse

MATERIALS:

100% Cashmere 2 ply. Jade Sapphire Exotic Fibers

100 yds color ivory.

Needles—U.S. 2, single point.

Beads (TOHO recommended)—Approximately

330 #08 silver-lined crystal, 14 #06 silver-lined crystal, 2 accent crystals, 2 crystal hearts (to decorate the ends of the I-cord). Optional lining for bag.

String 330 #08 Beads

Cast on 214 stitches.

Row 1. Working from wrong side:

TO BEAD ONE WORKING FROM WRONG SIDE—Knit 1, slip next stitch as if to purl, slide bead up next to needle, continue knitting.

* Knit 1—bead 1, repeat from * to last 2 stitches, knit 2.

Row 2. * Knit 1—purl 4, repeat from * to end of row.

Row 3. * Knit 4—purl 1, repeat from * to end of row.

Row 4. Right side facing; knit 1—purl 2—place bead—purl 2, to end of row.

TO PLACE BEAD BETWEEN STITCHES—

Purl next stitch, slide bead up to needle, purl next stitch, continue knitting.

Row 5. Repeat row 3.

Row 6. * Knit 1—purl 2 tog—purl 2 tog, repeat from * to end of row.

Row 7. * Knit 2 tog—purl 1, repeat from * to end of row.

TO BEAD 1—Bring yarn to front of work, slip next stitch as if to purl, place bead next to stitch, bring yarn to back of work, leaving bead sitting in front of slipped stitch.

Row 8. Right side facing; Knit 2—bead 1, to last stitch, knit 1.

Row 9. Purl.

Row 10. Knit 1 * Yarn over (wrap 2 times), knit 2 tog. Continue from * to last stitch, knit 1.

Row 11. Purl 1—Purl into wrap, continue to last stitch, knit 1.

Row 12. Knit.

TO BEAD 1—Bring yarn to back of work, slip next stitch as if to purl, place bead next to needle, bring yarn forward, purl next stitch.

Row 13. Wrong side facing; Purl 1—bead 1, continue to last stitch. Purl 1.

Row 14. Knit.

Row 15. Purl.

Row 16. Knit 2 * bead 1—knit 5, continue from * to last 6 stitches, knit 6.

Rows 17, 19, 21, 23. Purl.

Row 18. Knit.

Row 20. Knit 5—bead 1, to last 3 stitches, knit 3.

Row 22. Knit.

REPEAT ROWS 16–23, until piece measures 4 inches from eyelet.

Knit 1—bead 1, to last stitch. Knit 1. Purl next row.

Knit 2—bead 1, to last 2 stitches. Knit 2. Purl next row.

Knit 1—bead 1, to last stitch. Knit 1. Purl next row.

BASE:

Row 1. Right side facing; Purl. Row 2. Knit.

Row 3. Knit 7—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Rows 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16: Knit.

Row 5. Knit 6—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Row 7. Knit 5—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Row 9. Knit 4—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Row 11. Knit 3—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Row 13. Knit 2—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Row 15. Knit 1—Knit 2 tog, continue to end of row.

Row 17. Knit 2 tog 6 times.

Cut yarn and pull through last 6 stitches.

FINISHING:

Sew up base and side seams.

Knit 2 lengths of I-cord approximately 13 inches long.

Weave I-cord through eyelet. Double pull.

Trim ends of I-cord with 7 of the #06 beads, 1 accent crystal, 1 crystal heart.

Optional: Line bag.

Copyright Sandy Payne 2010. All rights reserved. No portion of this pattern may be photocopied without written permission.

One

April 22

Today I sign the papers on our new house! I’m excited and exhausted and feel completely out of my element. I have so much still to do. I should’ve been finishing up the packing or cleaning the apartment before the movers arrived. But no. Instead, I sat down and began to knit. What was I thinking? Actually, knitting was exactly what I needed to do. Knitting always calms me, and at this point my nerves are frayed. I haven’t moved in years and I’d forgotten how stressful it can be. Usually, I’m organized and in control, but today I’m not (even if I look as though I am). On the inside—and I don’t mind admitting this—I’m a mess.

Mostly, I’m worried about Ellen. My ten-year-old has already had so much upheaval in her life. She feels secure in our tiny apartment. And it is tiny. It was just right for one small dog and me, but I never intended to stay here so long. When I moved into this space above the bookstore it was with the hope—the expectation—that Robert and I would reconcile. But the unthinkable happened and I lost my husband to a heart attack. After his funeral I remained here because making it from one day to the next was all I could deal with.

Then Ellen came into my life and it was obvious that two people and a dog, no matter how small, couldn’t live comfortably in this minuscule space, although we managed for more than a year. I did make an earlier offer on a house but that didn’t work out.

After bouncing from foster home to foster home, Ellen had ended up with her grandmother, who died when she was eight. So Ellen needed stability. She’d endured enough without having a move forced upon her so soon after the adoption.

In retrospect, I’m grateful that first house deal fell through, since it would’ve happened too fast for Ellen—although I was disappointed at the time. Even now, Ellen feels uneasy about leaving Blossom Street, although I’ve reassured her that we aren’t really leaving. Blossom Street Books is still here and so is the apartment. The only thing that’ll be different is that at the end of the workday, instead of walking up the stairs, we’ll drive home.

Sitting in the office of the Seattle title company, Anne Marie Roche signed her name at the bottom of the last document. She leaned back and felt the tension ease from between her shoulder blades. As of this moment she was the proud owner of her own home. Today was the culmination of several months of effort. She smiled at the two sellers who sat across the table from her; they looked equally happy.

“Is the house ours now?” Ellen whispered as she tugged at the sleeve of Anne Marie’s jacket.

“It is,” she whispered back.

A few years ago Anne Marie had merely been going through the motions. Robert, her husband, had died, and she’d found herself a widow at the age of forty. She had no one in her life who loved her, no one she could love. All right, she had friends and family and she had her dog, Baxter, a Yorkie—admittedly a special dog—but Anne Marie needed more, wanted more. She’d craved the intense, focused, mutual love of a spouse, or a child of her own. Then she’d met Ellen through a volunteer program and they’d grown close. When Ellen’s grandmother, Dolores, who’d been raising the girl, became seriously ill, Anne Marie had stepped in—at Dolores’s urging. She’d taken over as the girl’s foster mother and, after Dolores’s death, adopted her. Dolores must have known she was reaching the end of her life, and when she saw how attached Ellen and Anne Marie were, she’d been able to die in peace, confident in the knowledge that her granddaughter would be safe and, above all, loved.

“You can cross finding a house off your list of twenty wishes,” Ellen said, referring to the list Anne Marie had compiled with a group of widowed friends the year she’d met Ellen.

The child’s straight brown hair brushed her shoulders, with a tiny red bow clipped at each temple. Her eyes were wide with expectation—and a little fear. Anne Marie hoped Ellen would quickly adjust to her new home and neighborhood, although Ellen kept insisting she liked her old one just fine.

“We want you to be as happy in this home as we’ve been,” Mr. Johnson, the previous owner, said. With a great deal of ceremony he and his wife handed the house key to Anne Marie. The Johnsons, an older couple who’d lived there for more than twenty years, planned to move to Arizona to spend their retirement near friends.

“I’m sure we will,” Anne Marie said. She’d looked at a number of places and this was the first one that felt right, with its large backyard and spacious rooms. Ellen would be able to go to the school she currently attended, which Anne Marie considered a bonus.

She would do whatever she could to ensure that the transition would be a smooth one for her daughter. Ellen had made friends on Blossom Street, people she visited almost every day, and she could continue doing that. Her favorite stop was A Good Yarn, Lydia Goetz’s store. Both Anne Marie and Ellen had learned to knit, thanks to Lydia.

“You promise I’ll like the new house as much as Blossom Street?” Ellen asked with a skeptical frown.

“You’re going to love having a big bedroom.”

“I like my old bedroom,” she said, lowering her head.

“Yes, but you’ll like this one just as much.” This was a conversation they’d had a number of times already. “And Baxter’s going to enjoy racing around that big backyard, chasing butterflies.”

The hint of a smile touched Ellen’s face, and Anne Marie put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said. “You’ll see.”

Ellen nodded uncertainly.

Now that the paperwork had been completed, Anne Marie thanked the title agent, who’d been so helpful. With the house keys safely inside her purse, she stood and reached for Ellen’s hand. “Mel’s taking us out for a celebratory lunch,” she said on their way out the door.

“What’s celebratory mean?”

“It means we have something to celebrate, and that’s our brand-new home.” New to them at any rate. She raised her voice to show how pleased she was that this day had finally arrived.

“What about Dad?”

“We’ll see him later.” Over the past few months, Anne Marie’s relationship with Tim Carlsen had become … complicated. He was Ellen’s biological father and hadn’t known he had a daughter until after Anne Marie had adopted her. Tim had connected with Ellen through a long and indirect process. Anne Marie had reluctantly—very reluctantly—granted him permission to visit Ellen. Thankfully, Tim, who’d acknowledged his problems with drug and alcohol abuse, was now clean and sober. He’d turned his life around several years before, unlike Ellen’s biological mother, who was still incarcerated. She’d surrendered her parental rights, which had made it possible for Anne Marie to adopt the child. It was only after Anne Marie saw how much Tim loved his daughter that she’d softened toward him. All too soon, a rosy, and completely unrealistic, picture had formed in her mind—the three of them together, as one happy family.

Then Tim had dropped his bombshell and that dream had been blown to smithereens. He was engaged to Vanessa, a woman he’d met at his AA meetings. Anne Marie had felt incredibly foolish even entertaining the notion of the two of them as a couple.

Shortly afterward she’d met Mel through her friend Barbie. He was a widower, the same age Robert would have been—close to twenty years older than Anne Marie. Mel was a comfortable person, easy to be with, unthreatening and undemanding. He got along well with Ellen, too. They’d been dating for a few months, and while it wasn’t a steamy romance or an exciting one, she was content.

Mel’s attention had helped soothe her ego after the letdown she’d experienced with Tim. The ironic part was that shortly after she’d started seeing Mel, Tim and Vanessa had parted ways. After her disappointment with Tim, Anne Marie wasn’t willing to make her heart vulnerable to him again. She’d made that clear and he’d accepted her decision. She let him see Ellen, however. Her daughter loved being part of her father’s life and looked forward to spending time with him.

“Where’s Mel taking us to celebrate?” Ellen asked as they rode the elevator down to the ground floor. There was a light drizzle outside, not unusual for April in Seattle. It wasn’t heavy enough to warrant an umbrella, but damp enough to curl Anne Marie’s naturally wavy hair.

“We’re meeting him in Chinatown,” Anne Marie answered.

“We’re having Chinese?”

This was Ellen’s all-time-favorite food. “Can I order chow mein with crispy noodles?” she asked.

“I’m sure you can.” How thoughtful of Mel to remember Ellen’s preference for Chinese cuisine. He really was a good man; she doubted there was anything he wouldn’t do for her if she asked.

“What about almond fried chicken with extra gravy?”

“You’ll need to discuss that with Mel.” Once out on the sidewalk, Anne Marie took Ellen’s hand again, and with their heads bowed against the cold and the wind, they hurried toward the restaurant.

Mel was already there and had obtained a booth. A large pot of tea with three small ceramic cups rested in the center of the table. Anne Marie was grateful Mel had thought to order it.

He stood as they approached and leaned forward to kiss Anne Marie’s cheek.

“Hello, Pumpkin,” he said to Ellen.

“Hi, Punky,” she returned with a giggle. Where Ellen had come up with that name for Mel, Anne Marie had no idea. Maybe her version of “pumpkin”? In any event, Anne Marie appreciated their relaxed, friendly relationship.

When the waitress arrived, they ordered far more food than they’d ever manage to eat.

While they waited for their lunch, Mel made conversation with Ellen. “This is perfect weather for Baxter to wear that sweater you knit him,” he said.

Ellen had made her own list of twenty wishes, and learning to knit was one of them. Fortunately, Lydia’s yarn shop was only a couple of doors down from the bookstore, and Lydia had encouraged Ellen’s first efforts. With practice, Ellen had improved to the point that she was able to complete a sweater for Baxter.

“After lunch, would you like to show Mel the house?” Anne Marie prompted. She wanted Ellen to feel good about this move. Ellen had gone with Anne Marie to view various houses and had found something wrong with each one. It finally dawned on Anne Marie that Ellen simply didn’t want to leave Blossom Street, which she should’ve realized from the start. The little girl wouldn’t say so directly but she came up with convenient excuses to reject every home they’d seen—until this one. If Anne Marie had been more experienced as a parent she might have caught on earlier. But Ellen’s resistance was the main reason she’d put off the search after the first deal fell through.

“Do you want to see the house?” Ellen asked Mel, sounding hesitant.

“I’d enjoy that, especially if you’d give me a personal tour.”

Ellen glanced at Anne Marie.

“Mel would like you to show him around,” Anne Marie explained.

“I can do that,” Ellen said, revealing her first enthusiasm for their new home. “I know every room. Did Mom tell you I have a big closet of my own and my bedroom faces the backyard, so I can look out my window and watch Baxter? He likes to chase birds and butterflies and bugs. I won’t have to take him for walks anymore because there’s a fence…. I can just open the door and let him go out.”

“True, but it’s still a good idea to keep an eye on him,” Anne Marie reminded her. “And to take him for walks.”

Ellen nodded.

“I’ll bet there are lots of kids your age in the new neighborhood,” Mel said.

Anne Marie hoped that was the case, although she hadn’t seen any.

Ellen toyed with her fork and plate, moving the fork around the plate’s circumference. “I like my old neighborhood best,” she muttered.

“But it’s a retail one,” Mel said.

Ellen looked quizzically at Anne Marie.

“He means there are shops on Blossom Street instead of houses.”

“I like shops. I have friends there. Susannah lets me help her with the flowers in Susannah’s Garden. Last week I stood out front of her store and gave away pink carnations. Baxter was with me.”

“That was fun, wasn’t it?”

Ellen nodded again. “And Alix sometimes brings me leftover croissants from the French Café across the street.”

Laughing, Anne Marie brought her head close to Mel’s and added, “That doesn’t happen often because they sell out of croissants almost every day.”

“I like them warm so the jelly gets runny on them,” Ellen said. “Mom puts them in the microwave for me in the morning.”

“I’ll have to try that,” Mel told her. “Sounds good.”

“Lydia and Margaret are my friends, too.” Ellen continued to list her favorite people on Blossom Street.

“Lydia owns A Good Yarn,” Anne Marie pointed out to Mel.

“Yeah, I remember,” he said.

“Lydia and Mom taught me to knit, and we knit every day, don’t we, Mom?”

Before Anne Marie could respond, their food arrived. The conversation lagged as they passed around the serving plates. Mel asked for chopsticks, but Anne Marie and Ellen used forks—although Ellen proclaimed that she wanted to try chopsticks next time. She was just too hungry today.

“You have lots of friends, don’t you?” Mel asked Ellen.

Mouth full, the girl nodded eagerly.

“But they’re all adults. Do you have any friends from school on Blossom Street?”

After a short pause, Ellen said, “Cody and Casey, but they’re older and they go to a different school than me.”

Anne Marie could see that Mel was trying to help Ellen see all the possibilities that awaited her in her new home. She thanked him with a smile, and he clasped her hand beneath the table.

Half an hour later, when they couldn’t eat another bite, Mel asked for the bill. Carrying their leftovers, Anne Marie and Ellen walked to the parking garage for their car. Mel drove to the house on his own.

Anne Marie and Ellen got there before him and after parking in the driveway, Anne Marie unlocked the front door, conscious that this was the first of many times. The inside looked different now that it was empty of furniture. The Johnsons had left the house meticulously clean, the floors scrubbed and polished and the walls freshly painted and unmarked.

Mel showed up soon afterward. “What a lovely house,” he commented, stepping inside. He paused in the doorway to survey the hall and the living room.

“Come,” Ellen said, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the hallway. “My bedroom’s this way.”

“What about your mom’s?” he asked, looking back at Anne Marie over his shoulder.

She nearly burst out laughing.

“Mom’s across the hall from me,” Ellen told him.

“Directly across the hall,” Anne Marie said pointedly. Although they’d been dating for several months, their relationship hadn’t gotten physical—not beyond kissing, anyway—although Anne Marie sensed that Mel was interested in taking it further.

While Ellen showed him the bedrooms and the other areas of the house, she put the leftover Chinese food in the otherwise empty refrigerator. The official move was the next day—Saturday morning. The movers would take care of the furniture, while friends and family had volunteered to bring over the boxes. Anne Marie hoped to get Ellen settled before the end of the school year, which would give her a chance to make friends in her neighborhood this summer.

She heard Ellen and Mel clattering down the hallway, their footsteps echoing.

“Do you want to see the kitchen?” Ellen was asking

Mel.

“Of course. Will you cook me dinner one night?”

“I don’t cook that good without Mom helping me.”

“I bet she’d do it if you asked.”

“Do you like macaroni and cheese?” Ellen asked. “I can make that in the microwave. It comes in a box.”

“Ah …” Mel met Anne Marie’s look as he entered the kitchen.

“I think Mel would be thrilled with whatever you cooked,” she inserted smoothly, smothering a laugh when Mel rolled his eyes.

“I’ll eat anything you decide to serve me,” Mel agreed.

“Okay.” Ellen nodded seriously. “A boy in my class brought chocolate-covered ants to school last week.”

“Chocolate-covered ants?” Mel repeated.

“I didn’t eat any,” Ellen said, then explained, “There weren’t enough for everyone.”

“That’s a shame,” Mel said with obvious insincerity, although Ellen didn’t seem to notice.

Ellen was about to say something else when the doorbell chimed.

Anne Marie shrugged, answering Mel’s unspoken question. “I’m not expecting anyone,” she said. It seemed a bit early for the neighbors to be introducing themselves. However, this could be a visit from a political candidate, as an election was coming up soon.

Ellen beat her to the door and threw it open. Even before Anne Marie could see who’d come calling, her daughter announced, “It’s Dad!”

Anne Marie cast Mel an apologetic look. “Hello, Tim,” she said cordially, standing behind Ellen.

“Hello.” He smiled at his daughter. “How’s my girl?”

“Good.” Ellen beamed happily, always excited about seeing her father.

Tim gazed at Anne Marie, as if seeking confirmation that everything really was fine. His smile had a curious effect on her, which she did her best to ignore. She stood in the doorway, blocking his entry. “What can I do for you?” she asked politely, praying Mel would stay in the kitchen until Tim left.

His timing was bad. Mel already had a problem with Tim’s coming around as much as he did, and Anne Marie didn’t want him to think Tim stopped by whenever he felt like it. That wasn’t the case; he generally made arrangements well in advance. Thank goodness, because she tried to keep the two men apart as much as possible.

“I can only stay for a few minutes,” Tim said. “I came over to drop off a small housewarming gift.”

“Oh.” Anne Marie felt properly chastised—and a little embarrassed.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Oh—of course.” She stepped aside to let him in as Ellen held the screen door, not hiding her delight.

Two

April 22

Mom says I’ll get used to my new house, but I won’t. I keep telling her I like it right here on Blossom Street. Lydia said I’d have a big room all to myself and a closet, and that I’ll make new friends. But I like my old friends. I don’t want new ones. Baxter doesn’t want to move, either. I told my dad I’d rather stay here and he said I might not like the new house now but I will later. He said I’d still have my friends on Blossom Street. Mom said that, too…. I’m not sure she really wants to move, either, because she’s been knitting a lot and she knits real slow when she’s worried about something. She doesn’t think I pay attention but I do.

Tim decided he shouldn’t have come to the house—not yet. Ellen had said Anne Marie was signing the final papers that day, so it was probably too soon. In their visit the previous weekend, he’d spent a lot of time reassuring his daughter that the move would be a good thing. He wondered how successful he’d been.

More than anything, Tim wanted to help Ellen make a comfortable transition to her new neighborhood. He’d picked up a plant for the yard, which he’d set on the porch. But the housewarming gift was just an excuse, and Anne Marie had seen through it right away.

Anne Marie.

He’d blown it with her, handled the situation between them poorly. His AA sponsor had repeatedly emphasized the importance of honesty, but Tim had been afraid that if he told Anne Marie he was engaged to Vanessa, she wouldn’t let him see Ellen. Because his daughter meant everything to him, Tim had been afraid to take that risk. He’d have had to be blind not to see that Anne Marie was falling for him but he hadn’t acknowledged it. Instead, he’d delayed telling her the truth, which was a passive—and dishonest—way of encouraging her.

Knowing her better now, Tim understood that Anne Marie would never have used the fact that he was involved with someone else as a pretext for keeping his daughter away from him. The irony was that his engagement hadn’t lasted very long once Ellen—and Anne Marie—became part of his life.

Tim could hardly bear to think of his troubled past, his wasted years. Thank God for his family’s support. It’d been an act of tough love for his parents to step back and allow him to self-destruct. As a parent himself, he knew that couldn’t have been easy. But when he’d finally hit bottom, his family had been there, waiting. His mother and father were the first ones to offer him guidance and practical help.

They’d gotten him into a rehab center and from that moment on he hadn’t looked back. He’d been sober ten years now. It was while he was trying to make restitution to the people he’d hurt that he learned he might have a child.

The discovery had shocked him, thrown him into a tailspin. That day was the closest he’d come in all those years to taking a drink.

Just after he’d entered rehab, Candy, the woman he’d been living with, had attempted to contact him. He’d ignored her phone calls once he became aware of them. He wasn’t permitted to receive any outside calls while in rehab; the only reason he even knew she’d tried to reach him was the multiple messages she’d left on his cell phone. When he got his cell back, he deleted each one without listening. Candy belonged to his old life and he was starting fresh.

Later, she’d written him, but Tim wanted nothing to do with her, so he’d tossed out the letter, unopened and unread.

Not once did he suspect she might be pregnant.

Nine years later … he’d sought out Candy’s mother to repay the money they’d stolen from her in order to buy booze and drugs. Back then, all Candy and Tim could think about was the next hit, the next drink. Time melded together, hours, days, weeks. Often he didn’t know or care where he was or who he was with, as long as he could get drunk or high.

After rehab, Tim had wanted to repay the old woman and apologize. If he was ever going to become the man he hoped to be, that meant restitution. So he went to see Candy’s mother. What he found was the house empty and listed for sale. The next-door neighbor told him Dolores had recently passed away.

Then she’d added that the granddaughter Dolores had been raising had gone to live with a woman called Anne Marie.

A granddaughter, aged nine.

A chill had gone through Tim at those words. The timing was too coincidental to discount. That very minute he’d known. This granddaughter, this little girl, was his little girl.

His daughter.

Tim hadn’t slept that night or the following one. Thankfully, the neighbor knew Anne Marie’s full name, and after a couple of days to sort out his feelings and consider his options, he’d contacted her at the bookstore.

At first Anne Marie assumed Tim wanted to take Ellen away from her. The thought had actually crossed his mind. Ellen was his flesh and blood, so he should be the one to raise her. But he’d consulted an attorney and discovered he had no legal rights where Ellen was concerned.

Candy had signed away her parental rights, and the grandmother had stepped in. More shocking yet, Tim learned he wasn’t even named on the birth certificate. After the old lady’s death, Ellen became a ward of the state; when Anne Marie adopted her, he lost any chance of raising her, although a blood test proved that she was indeed his child.

It’d taken weeks of gently, carefully, proving himself to Anne Marie before she allowed him into their lives. The funny, wonderful part was that Ellen seemed to recognize almost from the first that he was her father. In fact, before he could tell her, she asked him outright.

He’d been so tongue-tied he hadn’t been able to answer.

“I knew it,” she’d said, and smiled happily. He’d nearly dissolved into tears. So much for being manly and in control of his emotions.

That night Ellen showed him her list of twenty wishes. She explained that Anne Marie and her widowed friends had each made a list, so she had, too. One of her wishes was to meet her father, and now she had. She’d thrown her arms around his neck, hugging him tight.

From then on, Tim’s relationship with Vanessa had gone steadily downhill. He realized it must’ve been hard on her to see him develop a relationship, no matter how innocent, with another woman. His sponsor had advised him to tell Anne Marie about Vanessa. He’d tried a couple of times and then, coward that he was, kept his trap shut. He couldn’t lose Ellen. By then he was completely captivated by his daughter and refused to take the risk.

Then Vanessa had gotten drunk. After three years of sobriety, this awkward situation with Anne Marie had proved to be too much for her. Vanessa’s second slip followed shortly thereafter, when Ellen broke her arm. Tim could see where this was going. Vanessa couldn’t deal with such a complex relationship. That second slip was compounded by a third.

Tim broke off the relationship entirely, and frankly, he was glad he’d done it. Once he’d made that decision, he made another. He wanted to get involved with Anne Marie—only he was too late. By then she’d started dating Mel and was no longer interested in him.

He couldn’t blame her.

Tim had met Mel a number of times and clearly the older man considered him competition. If that was the case, Tim didn’t see it. Anne Marie was always polite but distant; whatever chance he’d had with her was over.

“You brought us a gift?” Ellen asked, looking eagerly around.

“Ellen.” Anne Marie chastised her softly.

“It’s a plant,” Tim said. “On the porch.”

“Thank you.”

He heard the reserve in Anne Marie’s voice. He stuck his hands in his pockets and was about to make his excuses and leave when Ellen asked, “Do you want to see the house? I gave Mel a tour. I can give you one, too.”

Tim looked at Anne Marie, seeking her approval before he agreed. She nodded slightly.

“I’d like that very much.”

His daughter closed the screen door behind him.

He trailed her into the living room and stopped when he saw Mel standing there, arms crossed. The other man didn’t need to say anything to convey the fact that he wasn’t keen on Tim’s presence at the house.

“Hello, Mel,” he said. He offered his hand, and Mel accepted.

“Good to see you again,” Tim said, although that was an exaggeration.

“You, too.” Mel’s returning comment lacked sincerity, at least in Tim’s opinion.

“This way, Daddy,” Ellen said, grabbing his hand. “I want to show you my bedroom.”

Tim followed his daughter to one of the closed doors. Ellen opened it and spread her arms wide. “See how big my room is?”

He stood with his hands on his hips. “Where do you want your bed?” he asked, relieved that she seemed more enthusiastic about the house.

“By the window.”

Clearly she’d given the matter some thought.

“Then I can stand on it and watch Baxter play in the yard.”

“Good idea.”

“And my dresser will go over here.” She bounded to the far side of the room to show him.

“Where are you going to put all your books?” The ten-year-old had more books than any kid he knew, which made sense since Anne Marie owned a bookstore.

“Mom’s buying me my own bookcase and I want to keep it over there.” She pointed at the wall across from the window.

Ellen was a bright child who loved to read; he was pleased she enjoyed books as much as he did. Tim had been a voracious reader from the time he was old enough to hold one in his hands. That wasn’t the only interest he shared with his daughter and Anne Marie. They all seemed to love playing board games and being around the water, to name two.

He and Ellen spoke for a few more minutes and Tim knew he should leave. As it was, he’d trespassed on Mel’s time with her and Anne Marie.

“So when’s the big moving day?” he asked once he’d joined the others.

“Tomorrow,” Anne Marie said.

“Need help?”

“Not really.”

He doubted she’d be interested in any assistance from him but had wanted to ask, just in case.

“A big truck is coming for the furniture,” Ellen said, “but all our friends from Blossom Street are helping us move the boxes.”

“I’ve got muscles.” Tim bent his elbow and flexed his biceps. “See? I can lift boxes, too. Many hands make for a lighter load,” he said, misquoting a saying he didn’t quite remember. “Or something like that.”

“Can Dad help us move?” Ellen asked excitedly.

“I don’t think so, Pumpkin,” Mel answered.

Tim recognized the other man’s mistake even before Mel did. Mel apparently hadn’t realized that Anne Marie didn’t like anyone else speaking for her.

Which was no doubt why she’d changed her mind about allowing him to be involved.

“The more helpers we have, the less work,” she said.

“I’ll be here,” Mel said, as if that would make all the difference.

Anne Marie ignored his remark. “If you’re available, Tim, Ellen and I gladly accept your offer,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.” He resisted the urge to gloat. It would be poor sportsmanship, so he didn’t, but he certainly felt like it.

Mel narrowed his eyes. “What might be more helpful is if you took Ellen for the day,” he suggested. “She’ll get in the way—”

“I want to be with my friends,” Ellen protested, interrupting him.

“I want Ellen with me,” Anne Marie said emphatically.

“What about Baxter?” Mel asked, a bit irritated now. “Surely you don’t want the dog underfoot? Maybe Tim could take him.”

“I’ve already arranged for someone to look after Baxter.” Anne Marie obviously wasn’t pleased with the way Mel had taken control. Tim hadn’t known her long but he was well aware of her capable nature—and her independence.

“I should’ve known you’d be on top of things,” Mel said, apparently trying to make amends, although his compliment sounded grudging.

An awkward silence stretched between them. Ready to leave, Tim reached inside his pants pocket for his car keys. “I’d better get back to the office before my dad wonders where I am.” Tim worked as a broker at his father’s insurance agency.

“Yes, good idea,” Mel said.

“Mel,” Anne Marie whispered.

Taking the hint, Mel stepped forward. “It’s time I left, as well.”

Anne Marie and Ellen walked them both to the door. “Thank you for lunch, Mel. That was a special treat.”

“Thank you,” Ellen echoed.

“Would you like to take the leftovers home?” Anne Marie asked.

“No, you and Ellen keep them.” Then, with a sideways look at Tim, Mel announced, “Ellen’s favorite is chicken chow mein with crispy noodles.”

So that was how it was going to be. Mel was telling Tim he knew more about his daughter than Tim did. Tim felt his anger rise, but before he could respond, he inhaled a deep, calming breath and let the comment pass.

“Thank you, Tim, for the rhododendron,” Anne Marie said next. “I’ll plant it right away.”

“I’ll plant it for you,” Mel said.

Apparently, Mel was a slow learner, Tim thought. By now he should know better than to leap in and answer for Anne Marie.

He could predict her response.

“No, thank you, Mel. I’ll do it.” Anne Marie cast them both a warning look.

“Bye, Daddy. Bye, Punky,” Ellen said.

Mel’s face lit up triumphantly. He turned and started toward his car. Tim had parked behind him.

“She calls me Punky,” he said as they headed down the driveway together.

“Punky,” Tim repeated, suppressing a laugh. “Where did she come up with that?”

Mel shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Not to be outdone, Tim said, “Ellen has a special name for me, too.”

“Oh?” Mel didn’t look as though he believed him.

“She calls me Daddy.”

With that, Tim opened his car door, slipped inside and drove off.

Three

April 23

Moving day. I’m so thankful for all the friends who offered to help. I’ve been talking to Ellen about this move for weeks, describing it in positive terms. Yesterday evening, when I tucked her into bed at the apartment for the last time, I compared the move to starting a new knitting project. Even though it can be exciting and fun, it’s a little scary, too. There’s a lot of work involved and sometimes you make mistakes, but when you’re finished you have something that didn’t exist before. Something beautiful. This was an analogy Ellen could understand. We’ve both completed our current knitting projects, so we’ll begin new ones. The timing’s perfect. A new house. A new neighborhood for Ellen to explore. And a new knitting project.

“Ellen,” Anne Marie called, walking from room to room in their small apartment. “Where are you?”

“Here, Mom.” Ellen emerged from her bedroom, dragging her backpack.

Anne Marie knew Ellen had placed her most precious items inside the backpack instead of entrusting them to a box for someone else to transport. She had her knitting and her list of twenty wishes, along with a framed photograph of her grandmother and a book of poems Tim had given her. From the obvious weight of the knapsack, she’d stuffed other things in it, as well. Anne Marie hadn’t checked; she was busy enough doing her own last-minute packing.

“Tim’s here,” Anne Marie told her. Of all the friends who’d offered to help, he was the first to arrive.

After knocking once, he’d let himself into the apartment. “How are my girls this morning?” he asked cheerfully. He held a take-out coffee in one hand and wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt with the Mariners logo on the front. Both Tim and Ellen enjoyed baseball and declared themselves to be diehard Mariners fans.

“Girls?” Anne Marie repeated, one eyebrow cocked.

“How’s my girl?” he corrected, and seemed rather amused with himself.

“Daddy!” Ellen raced to her father as if she hadn’t seen him in at least a month rather than the day before.

After setting his coffee on the kitchen counter, Tim caught Ellen and lifted her up for a hug.

Anne Marie looked away. She was happy Ellen had found her father and grateful for the affectionate relationship between them. Still, moments like this were hard to watch for reasons she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—identify. Finding him had been one of the girl’s wishes, which had prompted Anne Marie to allow the former addict into their lives. She could tell he genuinely loved the child.

“I brought my truck,” Tim said when he’d put Ellen back on the floor. “I can start taking down boxes if you like.”

“Can I ride over to the new house with you?” Ellen asked.

“That’s up to your mom.”

Anne Marie appreciated the fact that he’d acquiesced to her authority. “Fine by me. The others will be here any minute.”

She had plenty of volunteers—so many she’d had to turn some down. Her stepchildren, Melissa and Brandon, and Melissa’s husband, Michael, had offered, too. But they lived quite far away these days and she didn’t want to inconvenience them.

In her usual organized fashion, Anne Marie had carefully planned the move. She’d decided her friends would transport the boxes before the hired movers showed up. Whatever didn’t fit in Tim’s truck would go in their individual cars. With Lydia’s husband and family helping, Winter and Pierre from the French Café, plus Tim and his truck, Anne Marie thought it would only take one trip. They’d have lunch while the movers hauled the furniture from the apartment to the house, and after the truck had left, her small crew of friends would place the boxes in the appropriate rooms.

Tim sipped his coffee. “Where’s …?” He didn’t finish his question.

“Mel is stopping by after lunch. He had an appointment with a couple of out-of-town clients this morning.” Mel owned a thriving architectural firm and often met with clients on weekends.

She held her breath, waiting for some derogatory retort from Tim, which never came. She was relieved he’d kept his opinion to himself. Honestly, those two men could be as bad as junkyard dogs, so intent on challenging each other. Anne Marie sometimes felt like a scrap of food they were competing for. Her one hope was that Ellen didn’t sense the undercurrents between Mel and Tim. If she did, she hadn’t said anything.

“Alix has Baxter for the day,” Ellen explained to her father, obviously missing her adored dog.

“That’s good, don’t you think?” Tim asked.

Ellen shrugged. “I guess.”

“He might get lost or stepped on by someone if he was here. And you know Alix will take great care of him.”

“Alix and Jordan promised to bring him to the house this afternoon,” Anne Marie said. “Then Baxter can help you unpack your bedroom.”

Ellen nodded, but it was plain to see that she wasn’t happy to have Baxter with someone else, even someone she knew and trusted.

Within ten minutes, the Goetz family arrived. Brad, Cody and Casey ran energetically up the stairs; Lydia hadn’t been able to leave the store, as Saturday was one of her busiest times. Soon, with Anne Marie doling out instructions, they hauled boxes down to Tim’s truck. Pierre and Winter followed five minutes later.

“Winter won’t be lifting anything,” Pierre said.

“Pierre,” she muttered under her breath, looking slightly embarrassed.

Her husband replied in French. Anne Marie had been to France and had taken a few lessons, but he spoke far too quickly for her to understand. The one word that leaped out, though, was bébé.

“You’re pregnant?” Anne Marie clapped her hands in delight. “That’s fantastic!”

Winter smiled. “We just found out last week.”

His expression proud, Pierre slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “We’re due in early December,” he said. “Just in time for Christmas,” he added with a grin.

“Congratulations!”

Winter elbowed her husband. “We weren’t going to say anything until after the first trimester, but apparently Pierre forgot about our agreement.”

Again he replied in French, and whatever he said made Winter laugh and hug him. “I should’ve known it would be too hard for him to keep quiet. He said he can’t resist telling everyone because he’s so excited.”

“As he should be.”

“Since Pierre doesn’t want me to lift anything, I’ll volunteer to prepare lunch.”

Anne Marie had planned to purchase pizza or chicken wings, but she certainly wasn’t turning down Winter’s offer. “That would be wonderful.”

“Okay, let me go back to the café and get started. Sandwiches okay?”

“Your sandwiches? Better than okay!”

Soon after Winter had left, Lillie and Hector came up the stairs. Anne Marie had met Lillie and her daughter, Barbie, through the reading group she’d held at the bookstore. They were both widows and had compiled their own lists of twenty wishes. Shortly afterward, Lillie had met Hector. They were dissimilar in superficial ways but alike in the ways that mattered and had fallen in love. Anne Marie assumed they’d eventually get married.

“We’re here to help,” Lillie said, “even though we’re not on the official duty roster.” She wore a man-size faded blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and jeans with white tennis shoes. Nevertheless, she looked as elegant as she always did. “Oh, Barbie and Mark send you their best,” she added. Barbie, who owned an upscale dress shop, had recently married Mark Bassett, the man she’d met around the same time Lillie and Hector had begun their relationship.

“Shall we begin?” Pierre said. “Allons-y. Or in English, let’s go.”

Anne Marie wanted to do her share of the physical work, but she was needed to supervise and direct traffic. With so many people helping it didn’t take long for everything to be loaded. Winter had coffee and pastries delivered from the café and during their break, Ellen sat next to Tim, keeping her backpack close to her side.

Since they had a quiet moment, Anne Marie asked Tim, “Would you mind looking after Ellen next weekend?”

“Sure. I don’t have anything planned.”

“Mel is taking Mom to see Jersey Boys at the 5th Avenue Theater,” Ellen informed him.

“Oh.” His gaze held Anne Marie’s. “I’ll be happy to stay with Ellen.”

“Thank you. I—”

Her cell phone chirped and she glanced quickly at call display. Seeing that it was Mel, she walked over to the kitchen sink, turning her back to Tim and the others.

“Hi,” she said in a low voice.

“Hi. How’s everything going?”

“Great. We’re on a break. The boxes are all loaded and ready to go, and once the van shows up I’m out of here.”

“Listen, it looks like this meeting might go longer than I realized. I can’t tell you how bad I feel about letting you down.”

“Mel, please, we’ve got lots of people. You aren’t letting me down. There’s no reason to apologize. I understand.”

“I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Yes, but take all the time you need with your clients.”

“Okay.” His voice was regretful. “I’ll see you later, then.” When she shut off her phone she could feel Tim’s eyes on her. She didn’t explain the call; it simply wasn’t his business.

Once they’d all headed over to the house and the moving van arrived, the rest of the morning passed in a blur of activity. While the two professional movers carried the furniture inside and set it in the various rooms according to Anne Marie’s instructions, Winter came over with lunch. The small work party sat on blankets spread out on the lawn and enjoyed their soup and sandwiches—croissants with tuna, smoked salmon and turkey fillings.

Tim brought Anne Marie a small container of cream of mushroom soup, which she refused. “No, thanks. Don’t have time.” She continued to direct the movers.

“Save it for later.”

“Okay.” She was hungry but she had more important things to deal with.

When the movers were finished, her friends unloaded the boxes, piling them in their designated rooms.

“Can Baxter come home now?” Ellen asked when they were done for the day.

Anne Marie phoned Alix and Jordan, who drove to the house with their infant son—and the dog—half an hour later.

“Baxter!” Ellen crouched down and held out her arms. The Yorkie didn’t need any encouragement; he ran toward Ellen at top speed, leaped into her waiting arms and licked her face frantically.

Soon the only volunteer left was Tim. Alix and Jordan went home. Brad had to take Cody to baseball practice and Casey wanted to be dropped off to spend time with Lydia’s mother at the assisted-living complex. The girl had grown close to her adoptive grandmother, which Anne Marie knew would benefit them both. Hector and Lillie had plans with his family that afternoon and Pierre had to go to work. Anne Marie thanked them all. She’d been blessed with generous friends. Exceptional friends.

Ellen had gone to her room; Tim lingered. “Anything you need me to do?” he asked.

She shook her head. She’d prefer it if Tim wasn’t around when Mel arrived.

“Baxter!” Ellen suddenly yelled. Looking upset, she dashed out of her bedroom. “Where’s Baxter?”

“I thought you put him outside,” Tim said.

“I did, but he isn’t in the backyard!”

“You didn’t let him inside, did you?” Tim asked Anne Marie.

“No. He must be in the yard,” she said. “There isn’t anywhere else.” He was probably asleep under the apple tree and Ellen hadn’t noticed.

The three of them hurried into the yard.

Baxter was nowhere to be seen.

Tim walked along the fence and squatted down to examine it, concentrating on the side that led to the alley. He raised his head and waved at Anne Marie.

She ran over. “What?” she asked fearfully, her heart pounding as she crossed her arms over her chest. She knew what he was about to tell her.

“Looks like he dug a hole under the fence.”

“Baxter!” Ellen wailed. “We have to find Baxter.”

Tim tried to soothe her plaintive cries as he hugged his daughter tight. “We will, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t you worry, we’ll find him.”

Four

April 23

Baxter’s missing! We have to find him. I want my Baxter.

“We have to go after him!” Tim could hear the panic in Anne Marie’s voice. Ellen had run back outside, clutching the dog’s leash.

“He couldn’t have gotten far,” Tim said. “You two go search for him and I’ll stay here in case he comes back.”

Anne Marie seemed uncertain. Normally she liked to be in charge but she’d gone pale and was obviously as upset as Ellen.

“Go,” he urged. “He’s got to be close by. He’s probably confused and can’t find his way back.”

His own thoughts were tumbling over each other. Someone could easily take a dog as cute and friendly as Baxter. Or maybe he’d tried to return to the familiar territory of Blossom Street; Tim had heard of such things.

Ellen herself felt that Blossom Street would always be her real home. The apartment represented safety and security to her and she couldn’t yet imagine feeling that way anywhere else.

“Come with me,” Anne Marie said, decisive now as she reached for Ellen’s hand. “We’ll find Baxter.”

“Of course you will,” Tim confirmed, hoping his words lent them both confidence.

“He’s wearing the green sweater I knit him,” she whispered. “And his collar.”

Anne Marie nodded. “Yes! And he has all his tags.”

“That’ll make it easier to locate him,” Tim said. “People won’t forget seeing a cute dog wearing a green hand-knit sweater—plus he’s got ID. Just you wait. He’ll be home in no time.”

While Anne Marie and Ellen scoured the neighborhood, Tim went inside the house. Baxter might have gone into one of the still-empty rooms and fallen asleep.

He did a thorough walk-through of the house, checking every closet and behind every door.

No Baxter.

He returned to the backyard and once again walked all the way around. Still no Baxter. When he examined the hole beneath the fence, he found a piece of green fuzz. So, as he’d guessed, Baxter had slipped through that hole. He got a board from the garage and immediately blocked the escape route.

When he’d finished, Tim started pacing. He regretted now that he hadn’t gone with Anne Marie and Ellen. He couldn’t tolerate this anxiety, and his fears, for Ellen in particular, tormented him.

When his cell phone rang, he grabbed it so fast it nearly sprang out of his hands. Some quick juggling saved it from falling onto the lawn. “Hello,” he said loudly, certain it must be Anne Marie with news.

“You sound mighty eager to hear from me.” Mel, and his tone was sardonic.

Tim’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “What do you want?” he asked, not bothering to disguise his dislike of the other man. Actually, Mel was all right, and in other circumstances they’d probably get along fine. But, in his opinion, the fiftysomething architect was too old for Anne Marie. Then again, she seemed to prefer older men; her husband, Robert, had been about the same age. This could all be a lost cause, he reminded himself, feeling even more discouraged.

“I called to talk to you,” Mel told him.

“How’d you get my number?” Tim demanded.

“Why are you in such a bad mood?”

Tim sighed; he was taking his frustration out on Mel. “Okay, I apologize. What’s the problem?”

“No problem, and in answer to your question—”

“What question?”

“How I got your phone number.”

“Yeah?”

“From Anne Marie.”

Anne Marie? That didn’t make sense.

“A few weeks ago her battery was dead, and Ellen was with you, so she borrowed my phone. Your number’s on my call log.”

“Okay.” He remembered the occasion, since Mel’s number had come up on his phone. “This isn’t a good time,” he said. “I’ll tell Anne Marie you called.” Maybe. Mel considered Tim competition, as well he should. And vice versa … Tim had ruined his chances with Anne Marie, but he was working hard to win her back, although that was difficult with Mel in the picture.

“Is she around?” Mel asked, disregarding Tim’s comment.

“No,” he said curtly. “Baxter’s missing.”

Mel exhaled audibly. “Oh, great. I suppose Anne Marie and Ellen are in a real panic.”

“They’re looking for him now. I’m waiting at the house in case Baxter comes back here.”

“So you’re still there. I thought you would be,” he said cynically, “especially since I got delayed.”

“Listen, I really don’t have time for this. Like I told you, Baxter’s lost and Anne Marie and Ellen are out looking for him.”

“When did the dog go missing?”

Tim glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes ago, maybe forty.” It felt much longer.

“Who let him get out?” Mel asked in an accusatory voice, as if Tim was personally responsible for what had happened.

“No one,” he snapped, allowing his irritation to show. “Baxter either dug a hole under the fence or found it there.”

“Shouldn’t someone have been keeping a closer eye on him?”

“Yes, probably, but the deed is done. There’s no point in looking for someone to blame.”

“Poor Ellen,” Mel said kindly.

Anne Marie wouldn’t take the loss of her pet lightly, either. Increasingly on edge, all Tim wanted was to get off the phone. “What can I do for you?” he asked brusquely. “I don’t want to tie up the line in case Anne Marie needs to get hold of me.” And why was Mel calling him in the first place?

“It’s about Anne Marie,” Mel said, his voice serious.

“What about her?” Tim could almost feel what was coming.

“She’s dating me, not you. Do you understand?”

“Oh, I understand, all right.” Tim didn’t even try to keep the derision out of his voice.

“I know she had feelings for you at one time, but that’s over. I’m in the picture now.”

“And you’re telling me this why?” What went on between him and Anne Marie was none of Mel’s business, nor was her relationship with Mel any of his.

Tim started to pace the lawn once more, the phone still pressed to his ear.

“I don’t like the fact that you hang around Anne Marie and Ellen so much.”

“Fine, whatever. But you need to understand something, too, Mel. Ellen is my daughter and I have every intention of being part of her life. Nothing you say or do is going to change that.”

“I have no objection to you being part of Ellen’s life.”

“Big of you.” This time his words dripped with sarcasm.

Mel disregarded his slight. “I just felt it was a good idea for the two of us to clear the air.”

“The air is already clear,” Tim said. He clenched his fist at his side. “The only reason I see Anne Marie is because of Ellen. If it wasn’t for my daughter, I wouldn’t be anywhere near her.” In fact, if it wasn’t for Ellen, he wouldn’t even know Anne Marie.

Just as he turned the corner of the house, he came to an abrupt halt as he almost walked straight into Anne Marie. One glance at her face, and he knew she’d heard every word of his last statement.

“I have to go.” Not bothering to explain further, he snapped his cell phone shut.

“Daddy! We found Baxter!” Ellen dashed toward him, clutching Baxter’s leash, the dog at her heels.

Tim had been too unnerved to even notice them. Anne Marie held his gaze, her eyes narrowed and filled with—was that pain? He opened his mouth to speak and realized that anything he said now would only make matters worse.

“Daddy, guess what?”

“What?” he asked, without looking in his daughter’s direction. His focus was on Anne Marie as she blinked rapidly, then turned and walked into the house.

“I met a girl named April and she lives down the street. I met her at the flower shop. Baxter was with her.”

Tim started toward the house, wanting to at least try to talk to Anne Marie.

“April’s my age, too.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart.”

Ellen grabbed his shirt. “That’s not all.”

“You mean there’s more?” Obviously excited, Ellen smiled up at him. Although his heart was racing with dread, he gave the girl his full attention.

“She has a dog, too.”

“Named Baxter?”

“No, silly! Her name is Iris and she’s a Yorkie, just like Baxter.”

“You have a new friend and so does Baxter,” he said, pleased for his daughter and worried about Anne Marie at the same time.

“April wants me to teach her how to knit.”

“That’s great. I need to talk to your mother now, all right?”

“Okay. April’s going to ask her mother if she can come over and help me finish unpacking my bedroom. She likes books, too.”

Tim hugged his daughter, grateful that she’d found a new friend. He hurried toward the house, leaping up the front steps. “Anne Marie?” he called when he didn’t see her.

She came into the hallway, her arms crossed. “You don’t need to explain. You made it fairly evident that your only interest is in Ellen, and I accept that.”

Tim shook his head. “Not true.”

“Who was that, anyway? Vanessa?”

“I haven’t seen Vanessa in months. We’re finished. It was Mel.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Why? Was he looking for you—or me?”

“I told him I’d pass on the message that he phoned,” Tim said, skirting the truth but not lying, either. Not exactly.

Tim struggled to find a way to tell Anne Marie that he cared for her as well as Ellen. He wanted to confess how foolish he’d been not to recognize his own feelings. Now that he had, it seemed too late.

“Tim, listen, it’s okay,” she said. “Ellen loves you and you love her. I won’t stand between you. Our daughter is all that matters, and what goes on between the two of us isn’t important. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”

“Can I help?” He didn’t want to leave. In fact, he was willing to do just about anything to stay.

“No.” She marched to the door and held it open for him. “Thank you for everything you did today. I appreciate it, but I want you to go now.”

He nodded. Without further argument, he walked to the door—and then hesitated. “Can we talk about this?”

“No.” Her denial was flat.

He nodded again, although he wished he could explain that hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do. Every time he was with Anne Marie, he realized how important she was to him. He’d learned a lot about life in his AA meetings, a lot about himself, too. He knew better, but he’d let his pride take over. Mel had gotten to him and he’d lashed back—with unintended consequences. Serious consequences.

He had the distinct feeling that he’d just ruined whatever chance he might still have had with Anne Marie.

Five

April 25

My friend Lydia Goetz once told me there are two kinds of knitters in the world. Those who find tangled yarn a challenge and will spend hours restoring it and those who’d rather throw out the whole thing than deal with the mess. I haven’t quite decided which type I am. What I will say is that I feel like my life’s a tangled mess but instead of knotted yarn it’s my emotions. I thought I was over Tim. Completely over him. I assumed nothing he said would have the power to hurt me. I was wrong. When I heard him say the only reason he had anything to do with me was because of Ellen I actually stopped breathing. I was incapable of drawing in air—it hurt that much. It still hurts, and that angers me even more. I have emotionally removed myself from him.

Monday afternoon, Anne Marie walked back from the French Café where she’d had lunch. As she crossed the street she saw that Lydia was inside A Good Yarn. The shop was technically closed on Mondays, but Lydia was often there catching up on paperwork.

What she needed, Anne Marie told herself, was a talk with a good friend, and there was no better friend than Lydia Goetz.

Walking all the way through the bookstore, she came out in the alley behind the yarn shop. She knocked at the back door and a moment later, Lydia unlocked it, smiling when she saw Anne Marie.

“Do you have time for a cup of tea?” Anne Marie realized she sounded wistful.

Lydia’s shoulders relaxed. “I was just thinking that. Come on in.”

Anne Marie followed her through the back of the store where boxes of yarn waited to be unpacked.

“How did the move go?” Lydia asked.

“So smoothly I could hardly believe it. I really appreciate Brad’s and the kids’ help.”

“They loved it, especially Casey. She’s been moved from one family to the next all her life and never had more than a suitcase. She found it … interesting that two people could accumulate so much stuff.”

Anne Marie groaned. “That’s not the end of it, either. I have an entire storage unit that still needs to be emptied.” The move to the apartment three years earlier was only meant to be temporary.

While she was married to Robert, Anne Marie had left over a disagreement regarding children. She’d wanted a family and, as the father of a grown son and daughter, he hadn’t. When neither of them was willing to budge, they’d separated. To be fair to Robert, Anne Marie had agreed to no kids when she’d married him. Over the years, however, her feelings had changed.

Unfortunately, Robert had remained adamant. No children. When they’d reached that impasse, she’d moved into the small apartment above the bookstore—her way of letting her husband know she was serious. She wanted a family. Children of her own.

Then Robert had a heart attack and was gone, and with him, her dream of bearing a child. It was while she’d been dealing with her grief that she’d met several other widows; one Valentine’s night, they’d made those lists of twenty wishes.

As one of her wishes—to do something for someone else—she’d volunteered at the local grade school and been paired with Ellen. Although she was doing well academically, Ellen had been extremely shy. Anne Marie became her “lunch buddy,” and that was how everything began, how both their lives had been transformed.

Lydia filled the kettle and plugged it in, then reached for her knitting. “Well, I’m glad it all went well.”

“Tim was a big help, too,” Anne Marie commented, mesmerized by the way her friend knit, gracefully weaving the yarn around the needles, creating what appeared to be a child’s sweater, one knit in the round from the top down.

“I heard Tim was there, but Mel didn’t show up.”

“He was with clients,” Anne Marie explained, wondering what her friend knew.

“Casey likes Tim. She said his red truck was cool.”

Anne Marie remembered how eager Casey had been to ride with Tim and Ellen on the way to the house. Tim had agreed, which thrilled Ellen, who admired the older girl.

“We had a scare Saturday afternoon when Baxter went missing,” she said, “but it actually worked out well.”

Lydia looked up in alarm. “Missing? You got him back, right?”

The kettle whistled and she set aside her knitting.

As she took two mugs from the cupboard and poured hot water over the tea bags, Anne Marie clarified her remark. “Ellen and I were out looking for Baxter and, yes, we did get him back—thank goodness. We also came across a flower shop and a bakery.”

Lydia brought the tea to the small table, along with sugar and milk. “It sounds just like Blossom Street.”

Anne Marie thanked her for the tea, added milk, then sat back. “Well, not exactly like Blossom Street, but close enough for Ellen to realize her new neighborhood isn’t so different from her old one. She made a new friend, too—the girl who actually found Baxter—and, as it happens, April has a dog. Another Yorkie.”

“You couldn’t have arranged that more perfectly if you’d tried,” Lydia said with a smile.

“I know.” Anne Marie stared down at her tea. “Anything new on Blossom Street?” Ellen wasn’t the only one who was going to miss living here. She’d still be working here, but—despite what she’d told Ellen—it wasn’t quite the same.

“I saw Bethanne Hamlin on Saturday—and she had news.”

“Oh? What?” Anne Marie sipped her tea. Bethanne frequented the yarn shop and was a good friend of both Lydia and Anne Marie. She ran a highly successful party business that she’d started shortly after her divorce and often visited the bookstore.

“Bethanne told me that Andrew and Courtney Pulanski are engaged.”

“That’s wonderful! When’s the wedding?”

“Mid-July.”

Anne Marie had never met Courtney, although she’d heard plenty about her. Bethanne’s son, Andrew, and Courtney had been dating for several years; they’d met in their senior year of high school, after Bethanne and Courtney had taken one of Lydia’s knitting classes.

“Bethanne’s knitting Courtney a pair of beaded fingerless gloves for the wedding. I special-ordered the yarn,” Lydia told her. “Cashmere.”

“She’s such an accomplished knitter,” Anne Marie added. “I’m sure the gloves will become a family heirloom.”

“Me, too,” Lydia said.

Anne Marie put down her cup. She searched for a way to broach the subject that had been weighing on her mind all weekend. She’d unpacked boxes late into the night on Saturday and fallen into bed exhausted. Tired though she was, she’d been unable to sleep.

All thanks to Tim Carlsen.

“Did anything else happen on Saturday?” Lydia asked after a moment of silence.

“You could say that.”

“Between you and Tim?”

Anne Marie’s head shot up. “How’d you know that?” Lydia shrugged, her smile sympathetic. “Call it a lucky guess.”

Anne Marie exhaled slowly and picked up her tea, needing something to do with her hands. “I overheard a conversation he was having on his cell. As it turned out, he was talking to Mel, although he never really said why—other than to pass on the message that Mel called.” She paused. “At first I thought it might’ve been Vanessa.”

“The woman he was engaged to?”

Anne Marie nodded. “He told Mel the only reason he had anything to do with me was because of Ellen.”

“Ouch.” Lydia winced, not even attempting to minimize the hurt his words had inflicted.

Anne Marie looked away rather than reveal how upset she was.

“Why would he say this to Mel?”

“All I can think is that Mel phoned to clear the air. When I talked to him later, he didn’t mention it. But he and Tim are constantly goading each other. It’s ridiculous.”

“So Mel decided to set matters straight?”

“Apparently.”

“And I assume Tim was basically assuring him he had no interest in you,” Lydia said.

“That seems to be the case.”

“And that upsets you?”

More than Anne Marie ever dreamed it would.

“You still care about him, don’t you?”

“No.” Her denial was quick and emphatic. “How could I after everything he’s said and done?”

“How could you?” Lydia repeated, then leaned forward and pressed Anne Marie’s hand. “Well, first of all, the two of you have a strong bond in Ellen. She means the world to you both.”

“True.”

“He’s hardworking, funny, sincere and darn good-looking.”

All of that was accurate enough, especially the good-looking part. Tim was an attractive man; it wasn’t as if Anne Marie hadn’t noticed. When they’d first started seeing each other—while he’d been engaged to Vanessa and she hadn’t known it—they’d had such fun together. He’d been wonderful to her and to Ellen. They’d gone on several outings, the three of them, and she’d grown close to Tim. He was easy to talk to, and before she realized what was happening, she’d fallen for him and fallen hard. She’d never let him know that, although he’d probably guessed.

The one and only time Tim had asked Anne Marie out to dinner without Ellen had been to tell her about his relationship with Vanessa.

The news had shaken her badly. When she’d had the opportunity to meet the woman who was going to become Ellen’s stepmother, it had gone poorly. Vanessa, who’d taken an instant dislike to Anne Marie, had made her as uncomfortable as possible.

When Tim had announced that his relationship with Vanessa was over, it was too late. Anne Marie couldn’t—wouldn’t—trust him again. She wasn’t willing to give him a second chance. She’d assumed that she’d completely recovered from her infatuation with Ellen’s father. And then she’d overheard Tim talking to Mel…. His revelation had distressed her more than she would’ve expected.

Okay, she’d admit that her relationship with Mel wasn’t passionate, but it was comfortable and pleasant. He was a widower, and they had a great deal in common.

“Is Tim dating anyone else now?” Lydia asked, breaking into Anne Marie’s musings.

“Pardon?” she asked, looking up, mesmerized again by the graceful movements of Lydia’s hands. As a distraction she took a sip of her tea.

“Tim? Is he seeing someone else now that Vanessa’s out of the picture?”

“I don’t think so.” But she hadn’t known when he was involved with Vanessa and he was even less likely to discuss his dating life with her now.

“What does your gut tell you?” Lydia asked.

“That it was a mistake to let Ellen see him.”

Lydia stared at her long and hard. “You don’t mean that.”

Anne Marie sighed. “No, I don’t. Ellen’s become a different child since she met Tim and learned he’s her father.” The painfully shy, reticent little girl had blossomed before Anne Marie’s eyes. Tim’s love had a lot to do with that transformation. Ellen’s eyes lit up every time she saw her father.

“In my opinion—and this is just my opinion—you need to acknowledge that you still have feelings for him.”

Anne Marie opened her mouth to ardently object—and then hesitated. If nothing else, the incident on Saturday proved how much she continued to care about Tim, despite all her efforts not to. For months she’d buried her feelings for him, not realizing how ineffective those attempts had been.

“I’m dating Mel now.” Mel was her future, not Tim.

“Mel,” Lydia murmured.

“Yes, Mel. He’s generous and … and kind and sweet.” She knew she was trying too hard to convince Lydia.

“Yes,” Lydia agreed softly. Holding Anne Marie’s gaze, she said, “But he isn’t Tim Carlsen.”

“Tim couldn’t care less about me. By his own admission, the only reason he has anything to do with me is Ellen.” Her voice cracked and she struggled to hold on to her composure.

Lydia glanced up from her knitting and, again, leaned forward to press her hand over Anne Marie’s. “Don’t be so sure. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Six

April 26

Something’s wrong with Mom. I don’t think she likes the new house and I think she misses the apartment. I thought I’d hate living away from Blossom Street, but I don’t. April isn’t in my class, but we go to the same school. I didn’t know that. She said I could sit with her on the bus and I promised to teach her to knit. Mom gave me a pair of needles and some yarn and I’m going to show April. I told her it feels awkward at first but it won’t take long to figure it out. She thought it was great that I knit Baxter’s green sweater. She wants to knit one for Iris and I told her she could, but she should start with something easier. She’s going to knit a pot holder for her mom. I knit one for my mom and she really likes it.

“Can April stay for dinner?” Ellen asked Anne Marie the minute they walked in the door Monday night. Her daughter and her new friend had played at April’s house after school that afternoon. The two girls had been inseparable since they’d met on Saturday.

Anne Marie was delighted Ellen had made a friend so quickly. Even better, they attended the same school, although they had different teachers. They’d become instant friends, the way kids did at that age.

“Ah …” Anne Marie had no idea what to prepare. “Sure, April can have dinner here, as long as it’s all right with her mom and dad.”

“It is,” Ellen told her. “We already asked.”

Anne Marie did a thorough search of her kitchen cupboards. She’d gone to the store and stocked their shelves, and she could cook any number of dishes—but she couldn’t decide on even one. That showed how depressed she was; she wasn’t capable of making such a simple decision. Of course there was always the old standby. “How about macaroni and cheese?”’

“We had that for lunch,” Ellen called back.

Well, the freezer was her next option. She was about to check it when her cell phone buzzed. Sorting through the packages of frozen food, she answered it.

“Hello.”

“What are you two doing for dinner?” Mel asked.

“I don’t know yet. Why?”

“I thought I’d stop by and take you and Ellen out to eat.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’ll work. Ellen invited her new friend over.”

“She has a new friend already?”

“She does. April lives down the street. She found Baxter on Saturday, which is when we met her.”

“Why don’t I bring dinner?”

This was an offer too good to refuse. “Sounds great. What do you have in mind?”

Mel chuckled. “How about if I pick up one of those roasted chickens with all the fixings?”

“Thanks!” Mel was so thoughtful—and he’d just solved the problem of tonight’s dinner.

“I figured you must be exhausted after last weekend.”

“I am.” The move had taken more out of Anne Marie than she’d realized. That, and what she’d learned about Tim’s feelings toward her.

As soon as she’d closed her cell, she walked down the hall to Ellen’s room, where the girls were playing with Baxter and Iris. “Mel’s coming by with dinner. He’s bringing chicken. Would you two set the table?”

Ellen and April exchanged a glance. “Who’s Mel?” April asked.

“He’s my mother’s boyfriend,” Ellen replied.

“I thought Tim was your mother’s boyfriend,” April said, cocking her head.

“He used to be but he isn’t anymore. It’s … complicated.”

“Yeah, grown-ups can get that way,” April said sagely.

Smiling, Anne Marie returned to the kitchen.

By the time Mel arrived with dinner, the table was set. They all sat down together with Baxter and Iris settled underneath, content after their own meals.

“Anyone miss me on Blossom Street?” Ellen asked Anne Marie. She reached for a chicken leg; April took the second one.

“Lydia sends her love. Oh, and Bethanne was in the yarn store on Saturday and guess what? Andrew and Courtney got engaged.”

Ellen’s eyes brightened and she waved the chicken leg. “Can I be in their wedding? I want to be the flower girl!”

“That’s not something you ask,” Anne Marie explained. “You wait to be invited. But Courtney has several nieces and nephews your age.”

Ellen put the chicken leg back on her plate and sighed with disappointment. “I love weddings.”

“I know you do.”

“I was in a wedding once,” April said. “But I was only three and I don’t remember it. My mom has pictures, though. I was supposed to sprinkle rose petals down the church aisle but I ate them instead.”

Anne Marie and Mel laughed.

“Let’s play weddings after dinner!” April said excitedly. “We can be wedding planners like on TV.”

“Okay!”

Conversation flowed smoothly during the rest of the meal. They talked about television shows and upcoming movies, and Anne Marie appreciated Mel’s lack of condescension, his good-humored patience with the girls. Afterward, they asked to be excused and tore back into Ellen’s bedroom, while Mel and Anne Marie lingered over coffee.

“Thank you for bringing dinner,” Anne Marie said.

“I wasn’t here to help with the move like I’d planned. It’s the least I could do.”

“Mel, I understood. You had a business meeting.”

“I know, but I felt bad about letting you down and then there was all that angst over Baxter. I should’ve been here instead of—”

He didn’t need to complete the sentence; she knew he meant Tim. Rather than pursue the subject she let it drop. Her conversation with Lydia had stayed in her mind all afternoon. Anne Marie didn’t want to have feelings for Tim. Mel was good with Ellen, so considerate and caring, and she needed to concentrate on her relationship with him.

He helped her clear the table and was about to kiss her when Ellen dashed into the kitchen. “Hurry!” she cried.

“Hurry?” Anne Marie repeated, noting the disappointed look in Mel’s eyes. “Why?”

“Come and see,” Ellen said urgently.

“See what?”

“The wedding. Come on!” She wore a white sundress and a lace-trimmed pillowcase as her veil.

Anne Marie dried her hands on the dish towel and followed her daughter down the hall. Mel came, too. Standing in the doorway of Ellen’s bedroom, she leaned against the door frame, Mel beside her.

“These are the church pews,” April said, gesturing at the books laid across the carpet in two even rows, with a center aisle wide enough for Ellen to walk down.

“Who’s the groom?” Anne Marie asked

“We haven’t decided yet,” Ellen said. “Baxter’s going to be the best man, though.” The girls had affixed a black ribbon to the dog’s neck to resemble a bow tie. However, he didn’t look pleased with his role.

“What part does Iris play?” Anne Marie asked April.

“She’s the maid of honor.”

“Of course. I should’ve guessed.”

“We need someone who can sing the wedding march,” Ellen said. “We’re wedding planners so we have to arrange it. April and I don’t know the words. All we know is ‘Here comes the bride.’”

Anne Marie was about to tell them she couldn’t sing it, either, when the doorbell rang.

“That must be April’s mom,” Anne Marie said. But even before she opened the front door she knew it wasn’t. Her intuition told her it was Tim.

The way Mel felt about him would make this awkward. Mel, nothing! Her own feelings were as tangled as any yarn she’d ever snarled. She didn’t want to face him, not yet. She hadn’t had time to absorb what she’d learned or the hurt he’d caused her. Still, her heart seemed to speed up as soon as she saw him and she was instantly annoyed with herself.

“Hello again,” she said without any warmth, standing on the other side of the screen door, which she kept closed, aware of how rude she was acting, yet unable to stop.

“Hi.” He held the handlebars of Ellen’s bike. “I brought this back. It had a flat tire.”

Anne Marie continued to leave the screen door shut. “I didn’t know you’d taken it.”

“I promised to repair it for Ellen.”

Mel came up behind her, placing a possessive hand on her shoulder.

Ellen joined them, wearing her white dress but having discarded her “veil.” “My bike’s fixed already?” she squealed. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“I did it this afternoon,” he said, smiling at his daughter. “Where would you like me to put it?”

“In the garage,” Anne Marie told him.

“Come and see the wedding,” Ellen said. “April and I are wedding planners. Baxter’s the best man but he keeps running off. We couldn’t decide who should be the groom.

Will you, Daddy?”’

“Ah, sure,” he said, but Anne Marie sensed his hesitation.

She opened the screen door, walked down the steps and over to the garage, which was located behind the house. Mel went with her; she could feel his disapproval every step of the way. No one spoke, which made this all the more disconcerting.

“Will you tell Ellen I’ll play groom some other time?” Tim asked once he’d finished securing Ellen’s bicycle.

Anne Marie crossed her arms against the evening chill. Thankfully, Tim realized she didn’t want him there.

“That would probably be best,” she murmured.

“I agree,” Mel added.

Anne Marie could have done without his comment but didn’t bother to object. At least he wasn’t contradicting her opinion or her request.

Tim had started to leave when the back door flew open and Ellen came out. “We’re ready,” she shouted. “April and I are going to hum the song ‘cause we don’t know the words.” She dashed toward Tim and grabbed his hand.

Tim threw Anne Marie an apologetic glance as he walked slowly toward the house.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Tim,” Mel said, not hiding his irritation.

“About what, exactly?”

“Well, for one thing, he turns up far too often. Do the two you have a parenting plan?”

“Not … really.” At this point their agreement was pretty loose.

“That might be something to consider,” Mel said. “Tim seems to think he can come by anytime he pleases. For obvious reasons, that’s not a good idea.”

Anne Marie turned back to the house. She didn’t ask what those obvious reasons were, but she had to admit Mel was probably right. However, she wasn’t in any mood to hear it. If she limited Tim’s access to Ellen, he’d assume she was punishing him because he wasn’t interested in her. “Can we talk about this later?”

Not waiting for his reply, she hurried inside. The instant she did, she was greeted by the sound of the girls giggling delightedly. Unable to resist, she had to look for herself.

Sure enough, Tim had taken on the role of the groom. He wore Ellen’s black velvet hair bow clipped to the top button of his shirt.

“We need a preacher,” Ellen said. “Mel, will you be the preacher?”

Mel shook his head. “Trust me, Ellen, I wouldn’t make a good preacher.” The ten-year-old’s face fell with disappointment.

“What about your mom?” April suggested.

“She can’t,” Ellen insisted. “Mom’s the bride.”

“Oh, right.”

Anne Marie opened her mouth to protest but no one noticed. Wasn’t Ellen the bride? She most definitely wasn’t willing to pretend to be Tim’s bride. “Hold on, you two—”

“I’ll be the preacher,” Ellen volunteered, ignoring Anne Marie.

“You’ll need a Bible.”

“Got it.” Ellen stood on tiptoe to get her children’s Bible from the top bookshelf.

“Can girls be preachers?” April sounded unsure of this.

“Girls can be anything they want,” Anne Marie assured her firmly. Despite her discomfort, she couldn’t let a comment like that pass unanswered.

“Even a firefighter?”

“Even a firefighter,” Anne Marie said.

Now that she’d resolved that issue, Anne Marie seemed to lose control of the situation. She was handed a plastic flower and the pillowcase was pinned to her hair as a makeshift veil. As the two girls hummed “Here Comes the Bride,” Anne Marie carefully marched down the aisle between the rows of books. Holding her Bible, Ellen went to stand in front of Tim. Mel remained in the background, looking disgruntled and ill at ease.

When Anne Marie reached Tim’s side, he tucked her arm in the crook of his, staring straight ahead. The best man had returned but clearly hadn’t understood his role. He stretched out on the floor, knocking over several “pews.” Iris, the maid of honor, peered out from under Ellen’s bed.

With great ceremony, Ellen opened the Bible. In formal tones she began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together this evening in the presence of God and these witnesses to join together—”

April leaned close to Ellen. “What’s beloved mean?” she asked.

“You can’t ask questions during the wedding,” Ellen told her friend.

“Okay. Sorry.” But April didn’t sound contrite.

Anne Marie quickly whispered the definition as Ellen frowned.

The ceremony took only a few minutes and by the time they’d finished Anne Marie and Tim both found themselves grinning. Ellen’s performance—complete with sweeping gestures—was worthy of an acting award. Anne Marie had gradually relaxed enough to enjoy the charade.

The only person who didn’t appear the least bit entertained was Mel. He stood out in the hallway, wearing a frown.

Shortly after the “vows” were exchanged, Tim kissed Anne Marie on the cheek, then pulled out his wallet.

“What’s the money for?” Ellen asked when he removed a dollar bill.

“The groom always pays the preacher.”

Ellen raised her hand to stop him. “Give the money to the poor.”

“I’m poor,” April said, and held out her palm.

“No, you aren’t,” Ellen retorted. “Wedding planners make lots of money.”

“I guess you should put your money away,” Anne Marie said with a shrug.

Grinning, Tim did as she suggested. When he glanced up he apparently caught sight of Mel. “I’d better go.” He bent down to hug Ellen farewell.

“You need to thank your father,” Anne Marie said.

Ellen wrapped her arms around Tim’s neck. “Thank you again for fixing my bike and for being the groom and for everything,” she said in a breathless voice.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Can we go bike riding again soon?”

“Sure. I’ll set a time with your mother.”

When Anne Marie escorted him to the front door, Tim held her look for a moment, then raised his eyes to meet Mel’s, who stood directly behind her. “Does next Saturday work for you? I can pick Ellen up around ten.”

“We have plans for Saturday,” Mel inserted without allowing Anne Marie the opportunity to respond.

She ignored him. “Saturday morning will be fine, Tim. I’ll have Ellen ready by ten.”

His expression uncertain, Tim nodded. “Okay. See you then.”

“Bye,” she said, closing the door. Neither man had addressed the other again. She took a deep breath to compose herself, then turned deliberately to Mel. “What was that about?” she snapped.

Mel didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. “I’ve told you. I don’t like the idea of Tim spending so much time with you and Ellen. Besides, we did discuss going for brunch.”

She was in no state to deal with his insecurities and frankly she was a little unsettled by the make-believe wedding. “I think you might be making an assumption regarding our relationship, Mel. We’re good friends—”

“Friends?” he repeated, breaking in. “We’ve been dating exclusively for the past six months. Correction, I’ve been dating you exclusively. And yet Tim is still in your life.”

“Ellen’s his daughter!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be involved with him.”

Anne Marie expelled her breath and walked into the kitchen. They had to lower their voices, otherwise the girls might hear. “I don’t want to argue about Tim.”

“I don’t either, but I need to find out where I stand with you. Just tell me flat-out—am I wasting my time here? I know you cared about Tim at one point.”

“That’s over,” she said immediately. “I told you before.”

“Is it, Anne Marie?”

“Yes …” But she didn’t sound nearly as emphatic as she wanted to.

“I think that tells me everything I need to know.”

Anne Marie felt terrible.

Calling goodbye to the girls, Mel started toward the front door. She stopped him. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her hand on his forearm.

He hesitated.

“Please.”

Mel exhaled slowly as though undecided.

Anne Marie slid her arms around his middle and hugged him close. Mel was solid and warm, and she knew exactly where she stood with him. Tim was like shifting sand, not to be trusted. Eventually her heart would align itself with Mel’s.

Seven

April 27

I’ve made a decision. I’m going to ignore my feelings for Tim and concentrate on Mel. Once I do that, my heart will follow. Ever since last Saturday I’ve been miserable. Well, no more. I refuse to get emotionally involved with Tim again. He’s good for Ellen and she loves him. I can’t and won’t keep him away from his daughter. However, I think Mel might be right. We need to establish a parenting plan. We need an agreement between us. Now that I’ve settled that in my own mind, I want to start a new knitting project. I’d like to make something for Courtney’s wedding. I’m sure Lydia will have a few ideas.

Wednesday afternoon Tim phoned Anne Marie at the bookstore. “I hope I didn’t cause a problem between you and Mel when I came by the other night,” he said.

“Why would that be a problem?” she asked, unwilling to mention her argument with Mel. “It wasn’t a big deal, and Ellen loved the fact that you went along with her wedding-planner fantasy.”

“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be married. I just never expected to have a dog as my best man.”

Despite herself Anne Marie laughed. “As I recall, he fell asleep during the ceremony. Some best man he turned out to be.”

“You don’t have any room to talk. Your maid of honor wouldn’t come out from under the bed.”

“True.”

After a brief silence, Tim said, “Is Ellen there?”

“She met up with Casey Goetz after school, but she’s due at the bookstore soon. Any particular reason you’re asking?”

“Would you mind if I took her to Lake Wisdom? My parents recently bought a cabin there, and since it’s such a sunny afternoon, I thought she might enjoy a boat ride.”

The weather was unseasonably warm for April, and Anne Marie knew Ellen would love an outing like that. “I’m sure she’d be thrilled.” They discussed the fact that Ellen would need a life vest if she went out on the water, then chatted amicably for a few more minutes.

“I’ll pick her up at the store in half an hour.”

“Okay.”

Anne Marie glanced at her watch; it was now three-thirty.

As usual, Tim arrived precisely when he’d said he would. He had on jeans and a light jacket and wore a Mariners baseball cap. It was hard not to stare, to appreciate how handsome he was, but Anne Marie resisted.

“You ready, Ellen?” he asked.

She bounced off her chair, slammed her book shut and nodded. “Can Mom come, too?”

“I wish she would,” Tim said.

Anne Marie automatically shook her head. “I’d like to, but I need to be here.”

Teresa, who worked with her, was quick to weigh in with her opinion. Too quick. “We’ve had a slow afternoon.” She looked at Tim and explained, “It’s generally slow the first sunny day of spring. Besides,” she added, turning to Anne Marie, “I thought you were supposed to take Wednesdays off.” Anne Marie tried to give herself a midweek break but she’d gotten out of the habit.

“You’d be welcome,” Tim said, encouraging her.

“Please come, Mom.” Ellen folded her hands in a prayerful gesture. “You always have to work. I want you to go to the lake with us.”

Anne Marie wanted to enjoy the sunshine, too, but she hesitated. She hadn’t talked to Mel since Monday night, and while they’d parted on good terms they’d each felt unsettled by their disagreement. If he were to learn she’d gone to the lake with Tim, he’d be justifiably upset.

Tim opened his eyes wide and folded his hands like Ellen’s. With both of them gazing at her in supplication, she couldn’t refuse. Her one hope was that Mel wouldn’t find out about this. “Oh, all right,” she said, giving in.

Ellen hooted and jumped up and down, clapping.

“I’ll have to stop at the house and change clothes,” Anne Marie told them. “I can’t very well go out on the water wearing this.” She motioned at her white pants and pink jacket.

“We have time,” Tim said with a boyish grin.

Once she’d driven home, changed her clothes and packed a few things for Ellen, it was close to four-thirty. “I need to be back before seven,” she said as she slid into the front seat next to Tim. That wasn’t strictly true, but she had an evening of paperwork planned. And imposing a time limit gave her at least the illusion of control.

“You will be,” he promised as he started the engine.

The drive to the lake took another thirty minutes. He turned off the main road to a secluded one, then eventually drove down a dirt track that led to the water’s edge. A rustic log cabin was nestled among tall fir trees. She saw two wooden rockers on the front porch; they looked comfortably worn, as though many conversations had taken place there over the years, many sunsets watched. The pristine lake was glass-smooth with the sun reflecting on the surface of the water, which was a deep greenish blue. Another cabin could be seen on the other side.

“Oh, Tim, this is lovely,” Anne Marie said. “It’s so peaceful.”

“Mom and Dad have wanted a summer place like this for years and they finally found exactly what they were looking for.”

“Can we go out in the boat now?” Ellen asked. After strapping on her vest, she raced down to the dock.

“Wait for us,” Anne Marie called.

A boat ride had sounded like a simple thing when Tim first mentioned it. Anne Marie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in one—or one that small, anyway. Tied to the dock, the rowboat bobbed gently on the lake. Anne Marie wasn’t sure how she was supposed to climb in and out.

“I’ll help you,” Tim said, as though reading her mind. “You have nothing to fear—I was a Cub Scout.”

“Not a Boy Scout?”

“No, I didn’t pass the test.”

“Oh, great.”

He chuckled. “I’m a natural on the water. I’ve been doing this for years.”

“So you say.”

“It’s all right, Mom,” Ellen said, clasping Anne Marie’s hand. “I can swim—I’ll save you.”

Tim got in first, then helped Ellen lower herself into the boat. Anne Marie went last. She sat on the edge of the dock and gingerly eased herself in, sighing with relief once she was safely seated.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Ellen shouted. “Let’s go!”

It soon became apparent that Tim was as comfortable on the water as he’d claimed. He rowed with regular, even strokes, and the boat seemed to glide effortlessly across the lake.

“See that cabin over there?” he asked, pointing to the one Anne Marie had noticed earlier.

“I see it,” Ellen told him, shading her eyes from the sun.

“There’s a story about the people who used to live in these two cabins, ours and that one.”

“Oh?” He had a twinkle in his eyes, and Anne Marie was convinced he was about to make up some wild tale.

“Years ago, these cabins were owned by rival families. The Krugers and the Livermores.”

“Krugers and Livermores?” Anne Marie repeated. “Like the Montagues and Capulets? Or the Hatfields and McCoys?”

“Something like that.”

“What’s rival mean?” Ellen asked

“They competed with each other,” Tim explained.

“Were they friends?”

“Rivals can be friends, but in this case they weren’t.”

“You mean like Mel and you?” She looked from Tim to Anne Marie.

“Sort of,” Anne Marie said, saddened that her daughter was aware of the antagonism between Mel and her father.

“If one family bought a boat, then the other family did, as well,” Tim went on as if he hadn’t heard Ellen’s last statement. “The two husbands were employed by rival companies, so when one family purchased a cabin on this side of the lake, the second family bought land and built a larger cabin on the other side.”

“Is ours bigger?” Ellen asked.

“We have the smaller house,” Tim said.

“Oh.” Ellen seemed disappointed.

“As it happened, both families had teenage children. The Krugers had a daughter named Dani and the Livermores had a son, Scott, who was the same age as Dani.”

“I feel a romance brewing,” Anne Marie said.

“You’re right.” Tim directed the comment to her. “Dani and Scott were both out on the water one afternoon when Dani’s canoe tipped over.”

“This story isn’t going to have an unhappy ending, is it?” Anne Marie asked.

“No way,” Tim said, pulling rhythmically on the oars. “This is a romance, remember?”

“Mo-om, let Dad tell the story.”

“Okay, okay, continue.” Anne Marie gestured toward Tim.

“Seeing that Dani was in distress, Scott paddled over and rescued her.”

“And the Kruger family was so grateful the rivalry ended,” Anne Marie concluded.

“Nope. The Kruger family blamed Scott for causing Dani to fall out of the canoe.”

“Didn’t Dani defend him?” Anne Marie asked.

“She tried, but her family refused to listen. The Krugers disliked the Livermores so much that if there was any kind of mishap, the Livermores were automatically to blame.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered.

“I agree.”

Ellen patted Anne Marie’s knee. “Shh, I want to find out what happened.”

“Would you like the short version or the long one?”

“Short version,” Anne Marie insisted. “Definitely the short version.”

“Okay,” Tim said. “They lived happily ever after.”

“Who did?” Ellen demanded. “I want the long version ‘cause I don’t know who married who.”

Anne Marie groaned and glanced up at the sky. “Tim, honestly. All right, give us the long version.”

“That night,” he began, “Dani snuck out of the house and got in the canoe and paddled over to Scott’s place. She woke him up and apologized for the way her family had reacted. They should’ve been grateful and they weren’t. Dani wanted him to know she appreciated what he’d done.”

“Did she kiss him?” Ellen asked excitedly.

“Not that night, but then they started meeting every night in the middle of the lake. They’d sit under the moonlight and talk.”

“They did fall in love, though, right?”

“It wouldn’t be a romance if they didn’t. Except neither of their families wanted them to be together.”

“Did they get married?”

“They did eventually—and guess what?”

“What?” Ellen echoed.

“The Krugers and the Livermores became the best of friends. Dani and Scott now have three children. Let me see.” Tim squinted into the distance. “I believe their oldest daughter is around your age.”

“That is a romantic story,” Anne Marie said, mainly grateful that no one had drowned in the middle of the lake during a midnight tryst.

They spent an hour on the water, the most pleasant, peaceful hour Anne Marie could remember in a long while.

“I’d better get you back to shore if I’m going to have you home before seven,” he said. He sounded as reluctant as Anne Marie was to leave the tranquility of this special afternoon.

“Oh, yeah—I should be back by seven.” Only she didn’t want to leave. The temptation to stay on the lake was almost overwhelming. The sun felt warm on her shoulders; she’d finally begun to relax. Ellen yawned and rested her head against Anne Marie’s leg. “Maybe we could stay a bit longer….”

“You’re sure?” Tim asked, slipping the oar into the smooth water.

Anne Marie nodded. Eyes closed, she raised her face to the sun, reveling in the warmth of late afternoon. The birds chirped, the water rippled, and she could feel a light breeze on her face. She didn’t immediately realize they’d stopped moving. When she opened her eyes, she saw Tim sitting there motionless, both oars suspended above the water.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“No.”

He sounded uncharacteristically serious, and she tried to lighten the situation—whatever it was—with humor.

“Don’t tell me there’s a monster in this lake that’s going to come out of the water and swallow us whole.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He set the oars in the water again and headed toward the cabin as if he were taking part in a race. Their speed was in stark contrast to the easy, tranquil quality of their earlier ride.

Once they’d reached shore, Tim secured the boat and hopped onto the dock. He helped Ellen up and then Anne Marie. “It’s time I got you back,” he said curtly.

Anne Marie had no idea what was going on. Taking her cue from him, she settled Ellen in the backseat while he stowed their belongings in the trunk. The inside of the car was warm and cozy, and Ellen closed her eyes, dozing off within minutes. Anne Marie got into the car; so did Tim. He braced his hands against the steering wheel.

“Tim,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb Ellen. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She placed her hand on his knee, preventing him from starting the engine. “Actually, I do.”

“Really?” He turned and looked at her, his eyes holding hers.

Anne Marie wasn’t sure who moved first. But the next thing she knew, Tim had his arms around her and his lips were on hers.

This wasn’t a soft exploratory kiss—it was hot and hungry, moist and openmouthed, as if they were intent on absorbing each other completely. The kiss went on and on until Anne Marie broke away, breathless.

“Ellen,” she whispered for fear her daughter would wake and find them like this.

“I tried to warn you …” Tim whispered back. His shoulders heaved and he clutched the steering wheel with both hands.

Anne Marie leaned against the back of the seat and closed her eyes, making a determined effort to catch her breath. “Wow,” she gasped, hardly aware she’d spoken.

Tim snickered softly. “You can say that again.” He was silent for the next few minutes. “Now what?” he finally asked.

Anne Marie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The way I see it, we have two choices.”

“Only two?”

He didn’t respond to the question. “We can overlook what just happened …” he began. “Or?”

“Or we can explore it further.”

“Ellen’s in the backseat.”

“I didn’t mean this minute.” His gaze bore into hers. “You’re the one who has to decide what you want, Anne Marie. The decision is yours.”

It suddenly occurred to her what that kiss was all about. And it wasn’t because he was attracted to her. He’d said as much. Anne Marie closed her eyes once more and pushed aside the exciting sensations that cascaded through her. His touch was thrilling—wonderful—but she couldn’t trust him. He’d taught her painful lessons in the past and she’d be a fool to ignore them.

“You didn’t need to do that, you know,” she said stiffly.

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You kissed me just now because you’re afraid of what I might do.”

“Might do?”

“Don’t worry, Tim. I’ll never block your access to Ellen. She’s your daughter and she loves you. But I also know that if it wasn’t for Ellen you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. And I’m fine with that.”

“Anne Marie, listen—”

“No, please, I don’t want to hear your excuses. Mel suggested the two of us set up a parenting plan and I think that’s a good idea. You don’t need to flatter me with attention and kisses, Tim. We understand each other without playing games.”

His frown darkened. “You honestly believe that’s what the kiss was about?”

She didn’t say anything.

He waited for a moment, then started the engine. “Your silence is answer enough.”

He was angry and upset with her. Perhaps it was best this way.

In fact, she knew it was.

Eight

April 27

I saw Mom and Tim kissing this afternoon! They didn’t know I wasn’t really asleep. They kissed real hard and I was hoping maybe they might want to get married for real. April and I could be their wedding planners! But then something happened, only I don’t know what because Mom and Tim both got quiet. I tried to listen, but I couldn’t understand what they were talking about.

When we got home, Mom said she’s going to knit something for a bride named Courtney, who’s marrying the son of her friend Bethanne. Mom’s going to talk to Lydia, and I want to come along. I want to knit something for a bride, too, except I want Mom to be the bride, just like April and I planned.

When Anne Marie and Ellen returned from Lake Wisdom, there was a message on her home phone, which had been installed Tuesday, and on her cell. A message from Mel.

Anne Marie listened to both with more than a twinge of guilt. While she’d been necking like a teenager with Tim in his car, Mel, the man she was dating, had tried to reach her.

She waited until Ellen was down for the night before she called him back. “Hi,” she said. She knew it sounded tentative—and guilty. She had to resist the urge to apologize for kissing Tim.

Mel instantly picked up on her agitation. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes … So what’s up?”

“Actually, I phoned for two reasons,” he said.

“Oh?” She paced the kitchen as she held the phone against her ear.

“First, to apologize for the other night. I overreacted with Tim.”

“It’s all right, really,” she rushed to tell him. Even discussing Tim casually was dangerous. “I understand. It was unfortunate, but it’s over and best forgotten.”

“I guess I’m jealous,” Mel continued, oblivious to everything she’d said. “There were a dozen better ways to handle the situation. I behaved badly. I hope you’ll excuse my little temper tantrum.”

“Mel, it’s over,” she said again. “Forgotten.” Now, if she could forget Tim’s kisses just as easily.

“You’re far more forgiving and generous than I deserve.”

If he didn’t stop soon, she was going to burst into tears and confess that she’d spent the afternoon with Tim and had succumbed to his charms, of which there were many.

“Secondly, I called to remind you about Friday night.”

“Friday?” Her memory had gone completely blank—no doubt understandable in the current situation. She stopped pacing, frowning as she tried to remember.

“We have tickets to see Jersey Boys.”

“Oh, right!” Anne Marie had been ecstatic at the opportunity. Her husband, Robert, had loved the Four Seasons, and she knew many of their songs by heart.

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