“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” Anne Marie reminded her and then, despite her best efforts, yawned. “I don’t think anyone’s mentioned jet lag to Ellen yet. I expect it’ll hit her in a couple of hours.” As for Anne Marie, her feet were dragging. Once they’d returned with Baxter, she was planning on taking a nap. Ellen would be tired by then, too—she hoped.
“I see you’re starting a new class this week.” The sign in the window had caught her notice and she found herself intrigued by the concept. Not that there was anything she needed to quit. She was satisfied with her life at the moment—more satisfied than she’d been since the early days of her marriage.
“Are you interested?” Lydia told her about the project she’d chosen. Anne Marie liked the sound of it, but a night class would be too difficult.
Maybe she could get the pattern from Lydia. She’d bought some beautiful yarn in Paris and a scarf would be the perfect thing to knit.
“Do you want to join the class?” Lydia asked. “Even if you’re not trying to give up any bad habits. Alix already signed up because she wants to quit smoking—again.”
“I’d love to—but I can’t leave Ellen by herself. I want to make the scarf, though.”
“I’ll be happy to help with the pattern if you run into any problems.”
“Thanks, Lydia, I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Anne Marie and Ellen left the shop, the little girl pointed across the street to the French Café. “Alix!” she cried. “I want to say hello to Alix.”
“Ellen, we’ll have to do that later. Besides, Alix is probably off work by now.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot….”
“Are you ready for Baxter?”
“Yeah!”
Ellen ran ahead of her to where Anne Marie kept her car in the alley behind the bookstore. She wondered if she’d have any problems after leaving it for over two weeks unused, but the engine fired immediately to life. Anne Marie backed carefully out of her parking space and onto Blossom Street.
As they arrived at Elise’s small condominium just north of downtown, Anne Marie called to let her know they’d be up in a minute. Elise and Baxter were waiting, and the instant Baxter caught sight of them he nearly did flips of joy. He barked and ran around, then leaped into Ellen’s arms.
Ellen hugged him close as Baxter spread happy kisses across her face and yelped excitedly all over again.
“I think he missed us,” Anne Marie laughed.
“Well, he certainly didn’t lack for attention here,” Elise said, smiling as she spoke. “I enjoyed his companionship so much I’ve decided to get a dog of my own.”
Anne Marie had hoped this would happen. Elise had gone through a painful grieving period after her husband’s death. It had been different, in some ways, from Anne Marie’s experience, since Elise’s husband—Maverick by name and maverick by nature, as he used to describe himself—had died of cancer. He’d lingered for several years, and Elise had said she was grateful for each extra day. Anne Marie’s husband, Robert, however, had died suddenly, unexpectedly, of a massive heart attack.
“Do you want a Yorkie like Baxter?” Ellen asked.
“I’m not sure just yet,” Elise said in a pensive tone. “I’ll go down to the Humane Society and see what dogs they have available. It seems to me that Maverick would want me to adopt a rescue dog. He always believed in second chances….”
Her gaze fell lovingly on the portrait of her late husband. He wore his cowboy hat and smiled directly into the camera. There was an irrepressible quality about him, Anne Marie thought. As though taking risks was all part of life—taking risks and accepting the consequences with a grin and a wink.
Anne Marie and Ellen left soon after. They’d brought Elise a gift of thanks for looking after the dog—a lovely blue silk scarf with a fleur-de-lis pattern. Ellen cradled Baxter in her arms, murmuring to him as they walked to the car. When they clambered into the backseat, Baxter curled up on Ellen’s lap and promptly went to sleep.
By the time Anne Marie pulled in behind Blossom Street Books, both Ellen and Baxter were napping soundly. It seemed a shame to wake Ellen, who looked up at her with drooping eyes.
“We’re home?” the little girl asked.
Anne Marie nodded. “Let’s go upstairs and tuck you into bed, all right?”
“Okay.”
Anne Marie helped her climb the stairs as the dog scrambled up ahead of them. Ellen fell asleep again within minutes. Anne Marie wanted to do a few chores before she took a nap herself. After transferring the wash to the dryer, she noticed the light blinking on her phone. Checking voice mail again, she discovered another hang-up.
Curious now, Anne Marie hurried down to the bookstore. Teresa glanced up from some new greeting cards she was arranging in the rack.
“Oh, Anne Marie, hi. I didn’t expect to see you for the rest of the day.”
“How are things?” she asked, looking around. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Great. The summer releases are so good this year, I can hardly keep the new hardcovers on the shelves.”
This was welcome news.
“Anything…unusual happen while I was away?” Anne Marie wasn’t sure how to phrase the question.
Teresa bit her lip as if considering how to respond. “Not really… What makes you ask?”
“There were a number of hang-ups on my personal phone. I’ve never had that before. I just wondered if it was something to do with the bookstore.”
Teresa shrugged. “I’m sorry. I have no idea.”
“Okay, I was just curious. It’s a bit odd, that’s all.” Anne Marie collected her mail and turned away.
“Wait a minute,” Teresa said, stopping her.
Anne Marie turned back. “Yes?”
“There was someone here earlier in the week. A man. He asked to speak to you regarding a private matter.”
A private matter? “Did he leave his name or number?”
“No. I asked, and he said he’d contact you later.”
Again, this was all rather odd. “Did he say anything else?”
Teresa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, not that I can recall.”
“What did he look like?”
A smile wavered on her lips. “Actually, he was pretty hot.”
Anne Marie grinned. “Define hot.”
“Tall—about six-one, maybe six-two. In good shape. He’s nice-looking. Very nice-looking.”
“Dark hair? Or blond?”
“Dark. And brown eyes. He seemed anxious to talk to you. Do you know who it might be?”
Anne Marie shook her head.
“What about your hang-ups? That might’ve been him. Is there a number on caller ID?”
Anne Marie exhaled loudly. “It came up No Data.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see if he comes by again.”
That was her thought, too. Well, a tall, dark and handsome stranger apparently wanted to meet her. Things could be worse.
CHAPTER 6
Honey, knitting is so much more than just plain obsessive compulsive behavior…it’s the healthiest addiction I know!
—Antje Gillingham, owner of The Knitting Nest in Maryville, TN
Lydia Goetz
It’s my habit to check each room before retiring for the night. Brad was already in bed, reading Michael Connelly’s latest suspense novel. As I walked through the house, I checked the locks and turned off the lights in the kitchen. Then I looked in on Cody, who was fast asleep.
Chase, my stepson’s golden retriever, slept on the braided rug next to Cody’s bed. When I opened the bedroom door a crack, Chase—ever vigilant—raised his head. Seeing me, he lowered his head again.
All was well in the house and in my world. I had a new feeling of anticipation, a sense of excitement that stayed with me. It had begun the day I received a call from Evelyn Boyle regarding our approval as adoption candidates.
Just as I entered our bedroom, the phone rang.
> “Good grief, who’d be calling after ten o’clock?” Brad asked as he set his book aside.
“I’ll get it.” I reached for the telephone on my bedstand, half expecting this had to do with my mother. “Hello,” I said tentatively.
“Oh, Lydia, it’s Evelyn Boyle. I apologize for contacting you this late.”
“Evelyn?” My gaze automatically sought out Brad’s. It didn’t seem possible that they’d have an infant for us so soon. Nevertheless my heart raced. “What can I do for you?”
“Listen, I wouldn’t ask if I had any alternative.”
“Ask what?”
“I have a foster child—a girl. It’s an emergency case and I need a home for Casey for two nights.”
This was the very thing Margaret had said would happen, the very thing she’d warned me about. “Two nights,” I repeated, the hesitation in my voice impossible to disguise.
“Casey is attending summer school and unless she finishes, she won’t be able to go on to the eighth grade in September. Sending her back to seventh grade would be a disaster. She’s only twelve and this is a difficult year for her.”
“I thought summer school just started.” A friend of Cody’s had gotten behind in math and was now attending a summer program that had recently begun and would go through the month of July.
“Well, yes, but if Casey can spend tonight and possibly tomorrow night with you, that’ll give me the necessary time to find her another long-term foster home.”
“I see.” I bit my lip, uncertain what to say.
“Two nights, Lydia. Just two nights. It would make a world of difference to Casey. She really can’t miss a single class.”
I looked at Brad. “I’ll need to discuss this with my husband.”
“Of course.”
“Can I call you right back?”
“Ah…I could stay on the line.”
“You’re sure this is only for a couple of nights?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, I’ll ask.” I held the receiver against my shoulder. “It’s Evelyn Boyle…. She has a twelve-year-old girl who needs a bed for the next two nights.”
“I take it she wants to bring the girl here?”
I nodded, ready to accept whatever Brad decided.
He seemed as hesitant as I felt. “I can’t imagine Evelyn would ask if she had any other option,” he said in a low voice.
“She told me Casey, that’s the girl’s name, is attending math classes at summer school and can’t afford to miss any or she won’t be able to advance to the eighth grade.”
Brad made the connection right away. “In other words, she needs to keep Casey in the same school district.”
“Exactly.”
Brad met my eyes. “What do you think?”
I shrugged, torn between generosity and fear. I wanted to help Evelyn, but I wasn’t the least bit prepared to deal with a twelve-year-old. Still, it would only be for a couple of nights. “I don’t suppose it would hurt.”
Brad nodded. “Tell her to bring Casey over.” He squeezed my hand. “I hope we know what we’re getting ourselves into,” he muttered.
“So do I.” I lifted the receiver to my ear. “Brad says we can take Casey for the next two nights.” I made sure Evelyn understood that we were willing to fill in, but just for the limited time she’d requested.
The social worker’s sigh of relief sounded over the phone. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll be dropping Casey off in the next half hour.”
“I’ll wait up for her,” I promised. Thirty minutes would give me a chance to straighten the spare room and remake the bed. I’d need to put a few things away, too. The sewing machine was out because I’d repaired Cody’s jeans earlier that evening. In addition, there were plastic tubs of yarn and knitting projects I’d lost interest in for one reason or another. The closet was filled with clothes I planned to donate to charity and some items from before my marriage that I hadn’t figured out what to do with. The room had become a catch-all, a storage area for anything that didn’t have a firm place in our lives.
“Do you need any help?” Brad asked as I started toward the bedroom.
“I’m just going to put some stuff in the closet and move the sewing machine,” I explained. “It’s only for a couple of days,” I said again.
“Right.”
I could already hear Margaret’s loud “I told you so” the moment she heard about this. Well, nothing I could do about that. I refused to allow my sister’s ominous predictions to rule my life. I’d been asked to help out and I’d agreed. Nearly anyone would. It was part of the way we’d been raised, and I suspected that if Evelyn had called Margaret, my sister would’ve done exactly the same thing.
When I’d finished with the bed, I threw a robe over my nightgown, then joined Brad in the living room. The doorbell rang and he unlocked the front door with me right behind him. Chase immediately started scratching at Cody’s bedroom door, ready to protect us against an intruder. Brad left to deal with the dog as I let Evelyn and Casey into the house. The first thing I noticed was how small Casey was for her age. Her backpack, hooked over one arm, was almost bigger than she was.
Brad returned, clutching the dog’s collar as Chase whined eagerly, his nails scrabbling on the hardwood. “Chase, sit,” he said calmly, and Chase did.
“Lydia and Brad, this is Casey Marshall.”
The twelve-year-old refused to look at us. Instead she stared down at the floor.
“Hello, Casey,” Brad said. “Welcome to our home.”
“Welcome,” I echoed. “I’ll bet you’re exhausted. I’ve got the bed made up for you.”
Casey continued to stare at the floor.
“Casey,” Evelyn murmured, her arm loosely around the girl’s thin shoulders.
Reluctantly Casey looked up. Defiance flashed in her cool dark eyes. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Gratitude? Appreciation? Relief? If so, all three were sadly lacking in Casey’s expression and demeanor.
“Casey will walk to class in the morning,” Evelyn said. “She’s at Carver Middle School.”
“I’ll drive her,” I volunteered. “It’s on my way.”
Casey’s eyes darted toward Chase and softened perceptibly until she saw me watching her. Quickly she diverted her attention, glancing around the foyer and into the living room.
“I don’t need a ride, I’ll walk,” Casey insisted.
“Whatever you want,” I said. This wasn’t going well. It was almost as if Brad and I were intruding on the girl’s life, although we were making every effort to accommodate her.
“I’ll leave you now,” Evelyn said. She handed Brad her business card. “This has my office number and my cell. If you have any questions or problems, don’t hesitate to phone anytime.”
Brad accepted the card and studied it, although we already had Evelyn’s contact information.
As Evelyn said her goodbyes, I stepped forward. She paused, a question in her eyes. I felt out of my depth here—what did I know about dealing with a troubled young girl? I was afraid this wasn’t going to work, but Evelyn offered me a reassuring smile, then turned to leave.
Well, we’d agreed to do this, I reminded myself, and it was only for two days. We’d muddle through and so would Casey.
“I’ll show you to your room,” I said as soon as Evelyn left. I tried not to reveal how nervous I was.
Casey raised one shoulder, implying that she really didn’t care. She was slender for her age, with straight, badly cut hair that fell below her ears. Her jeans were tattered but not fashionably and the wording on her T-shirt was long since washed out. It had once been bright pink, I thought, but was now an off-white with reddish splotches here and there.
I led the way down the hall. “This will be your room,” I said. I turned the light on. The bed was made and everything had been put in the closet or stacked on the dresser. I’d brought in some fresh towels and extra hangers, which I’d laid on the quilt.
Casey looked arou
nd, then stepped into the room.
“Our son, Cody, is asleep next door. Chase is his dog. Cody named him that because he was always having to chase after him.” She didn’t smile. “Do you like dogs?”
Casey gave another one-sided shrug. “They’re all right.”
“Can we get you anything?” Brad asked, coming to stand behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders.
Casey considered his question and shook her head.
“The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.”
She nodded.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” I said. I didn’t want to leave the girl, but I didn’t know what else to say or do. Casey obviously had no interest in conversation. She acted as though she couldn’t be rid of us fast enough.
“Night,” Brad said.
“Yes, good night,” I added with what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
Casey nodded and closed the bedroom door. Brad and I were left standing out in the hallway.
“I hope we did the right thing,” Brad whispered.
“Me, too.”
I woke during the night and knew instantly that something was different. It took me a couple of minutes to realize what it was. Then I remembered—a girl was sleeping down the hall. A girl we didn’t know. Casey clearly didn’t want to be in our home and revealed no appreciation for our hospitality.
About seven, just before the alarm rang, Cody’s voice boomed, “Mom, there’s a girl in the house!”
Tossing aside the covers, I jumped out of bed. I grabbed my housecoat and hurried into the kitchen, where Casey sat at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. Cody stood in his pajamas with Chase at his side, tail wagging slowly. My son seemed to be in a state of shock.
“This is Casey,” I said.
Cody’s eyes narrowed. “Does she talk?”
“Casey, this is our son, Cody.”
The girl went on eating her breakfast. “Uh-huh.”
“He’s not bad for a boy,” I told her and was rewarded with the glimmer of a smile.
“Mom,” Cody protested. “She’s not staying, is she?”
Whatever slight enjoyment had shown in Casey’s eyes immediately disappeared. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon.”