Back on Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber
through the sample books this evening.” Alix finally said. It was pointless to argue.
“You don’t seem too happy about it.”
“I’m not.” She might be conceding but she wasn’t willing to pretend. “You know what I thought?” she asked, growing a bit sad that their wedding had slipped away from her.
“You were looking forward to some time for the two of us tonight. We’ll have that, Alix, I promise, as soon as we pick out the invitations.” Jordan sipped his coffee.
“It isn’t just that,” she said wistfully. “When you gave me the engagement ring and we started talking about the ceremony …” She paused. “I thought it would be a small service and I’d make the invitations myself.”
“Really?” Jordan seemed impressed. “Maybe we could do it together.”
She doubted it. “How many people on your mother’s list?” she asked. Needless to say, her own would be considerably shorter.
“Three hundred at last count.”
Alix’s heart rate went into overdrive. “Three hundred people?”
“Invitations,” he corrected, apparently unaware of what this news had done to her. “That means maybe five hundred people.”
“You’ve got to be joking!”
“Alix, my father is a pastor. You wouldn’t believe how many friends and associates my parents have. Mom’s whittled the list down to three hundred invitations. If I told you how many she started out with, you’d have a panic attack.”
“I’m having one now.”
Jordan grinned, clearly thinking she’d made a joke; she hadn’t. The idea of walking down the aisle in a church filled with hundreds of wedding guests—all of them strangers—was enough to make Alix sick to her stomach.
“I hope you realize how much I love you,” she muttered.
Jordan grinned again as he reached for his coffee. “I sure do.”
“Can we talk about something other than the wedding?” she asked. The inside of her elbow was beginning to itch and she suspected she was breaking out in hives. She hadn’t experienced hives since she was a kid and assumed she’d outgrown the tendency, which she’d learned to associate with stress. Obviously not.
“Sure,” he agreed readily. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Uh …” A few minutes ago she’d had a dozen different things she’d looked forward to discussing with Jordan. All of a sudden her mind was completely blank. “I went to the first knitting class for the prayer shawl.”
“How’d it go?”
“All right, I guess.”
“Tell me about the other people in the class,” he said.
“There’s only two other women. Susannah and Colette.” Alix enjoyed having a smaller class. She’d helped Lydia teach Susannah, who’d had some of the same problems Alix did when she’d started knitting.
“Susannah, from Susannah’s Garden?”
Alix stiffened. “I suppose your mother’s upset because I haven’t decided on the flowers yet?”
Jordan blew out an exasperated sigh. “Alix, we weren’t going to talk about the wedding, remember?”
“Right.” Actually that was a relief. It seemed there was always something she needed to be doing or should have done with regard to the wedding.
“Okay, so you’re knitting a prayer shawl.”
She nodded. “Lydia gave us a bit of the background on prayer shawls. Some church groups apparently take them to nursing homes and use them as part of their ministry. Lydia said the whole idea came about as a way of nurturing and caring for family or friends who’ve got health problems. I don’t think the recipient necessarily has to be ill, though. The shawls are … small displays of love,” she said on a burst of inspiration.
Jordan smiled in approval.
“I’m going to take your suggestion and knit mine for your grandma Turner.” Right away she could see that Jordan was pleased.
“Alix, she’ll adore you for that.” His brown eyes were soft with appreciation. “You made quite an impression on her, you know.”
Alix had begun to think of Sarah Turner as her honorary grandma. She couldn’t remember having grandparents of her own, although she must have. At any rate, neither her maternal nor paternal grandparents had played a role in her life. If they had, she might not have ended up in foster care.
She’d never spent time around elderly people, so meeting Jordan’s grandmother had been an experience. Grandma liked to talk and Alix had found her fascinating. Everyone in the family had heard Grandma’s stories, but not Alix and she hung on every word. Grandma talked about the Depression and World War II, when she’d worked as a school secretary for twenty-five cents an hour. Later, when her husband was in the army overseas, Grandma Turner had gone to work at the shipyard in Portland, Oregon, as a welder and saved five thousand dollars. At the time, that amount of money was a fortune. With her savings they were able to purchase the property on Star Lake, near Seattle, where she lived to this very day. The Turners had raised their two sons there; she’d been a widow nearly twenty years.
Jordan reached for Alix’s hand and entwined their fingers. “How about if we splurge and go to a movie?”
“Popcorn?”
“Why not?” He smiled and Alix leaned close to give him a lingering kiss.
They left soon afterward, stopping at Alix’s place just long enough for her to change clothes. She’d been tired and cranky when Jordan arrived, but no more.
Date night with her fiancé was exactly what Alix needed to lift her spirits and take her mind off the fuss everyone was making over their wedding.
Her irritation was a symptom of nerves, she realized. By the time of the wedding, she’d be past all of that and eager to settle into married life. It would be a piece of cake. Wedding cake! And she was baking her own. On that, Alix wouldn’t budge.
A few weeks ago, she’d tried to convince Jordan to elope. Now she understood how foolish that idea had been. Susan Turner would never forgive her if they got married in secrecy.
When they were back from the movie—a romantic comedy Alix had chosen—Jordan reminded her that they couldn’t put the invitations off any longer. They sat side by side at her kitchen table in the Donovans’ guesthouse and flipped through the huge three-ring binders, hoping to make a selection. Some of the invitations were elaborate and eye-catching, but those didn’t suit Alix’s taste in the least. She thought others were far too frilly and Jordan agreed. And some were just … silly. She couldn’t imagine who’d want Donald and Daisy Duck on a wedding invitation. The simpler examples seemed too plain. In the end, after going through each binder twice, Alix couldn’t find a single one she liked that would pass muster with Jacqueline and Susan Turner.
“What do you think?” Jordan asked.
“I wish I had time to make them myself.” Alix had looked forward to that. Something elegant, individual …
“I wish you did, too,” Jordan murmured, his head close to hers.
“You decide,” she told him tiredly. “Just pick one.”
“Me?”
“I can’t.”
“I can’t, either.” She didn’t want Jordan to think she wasn’t interested, because she was. But her choices weren’t acceptable to Susan and Jacqueline—Wedding Planners run amok, she thought with a sudden grin.
“What am I going to tell my mother?” Jordan asked. He sounded