Back on Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber
He nodded as if he understood her need to move on.
“I tried to reach you at work, too,” he said next.
“You did?” She was astonished he’d gone to such lengths to search for her.
But before she could question him further, their food arrived. Colette had ordered soup and Steve a hamburger and fries.
“I wanted to see how things were going,” he said, squeezing a liberal amount of ketchup on the side of his plate. “It’s been a year now, right?”
She didn’t answer the question. “I’m doing okay,” she assured him a second time.
He raised his head. “You look great,” he said with an appreciative grin.
His scrutiny unsettled her and in an effort to hide her uneasiness, she picked up her spoon. The beef soup was homemade and full of vegetables and pieces of seasoned meat. It was so hot, steam rose from the bowl.
His expression sobered. “I didn’t know if you’d heard about me and Jeanine,” he said, grabbing the burger with both hands.
Colette hoped he wasn’t about to tell her they’d split up. Colette had always liked Steve’s wife and saw them as a good match, with Steve’s practical nature balanced by Jeanine’s whimsy and sense of humor.
“Jeanine filed for divorce,” he said abruptly. “She moved to Yakima before Christmas.”
Saddened at the news, Colette set her spoon aside. “Oh, Steve, I’m so sorry.” The couple had two little girls who were going to grow up without their dad.
His eyes revealed a depth of sadness as he finished chewing. “We both tried, but it didn’t work out.”
“How are the girls holding up?”
“They seem to be doing well—very well, considering,” he said. After a brief hesitation he shrugged. “They’re so young and with the crazy hours I work, I was hardly ever around anyway.”
When he’d been with Derek, they’d worked swing shift, but she supposed a detective had to be available around the clock. Still, family should always come first. In her view, anyway. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, thinking she might be able to help but with no idea how.
That sad look returned and he lowered his gaze. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
“Too late?”
“The divorce is final this week. And like I said, Jeanine moved to Yakima—to be closer to her parents.”
“But the girls?”
“I hated to see them leave Seattle but in the end it’s probably for the best. Our parenting plan spells out my visitation rights and I have them for two weeks every summer, spring break and a week at Christmas. Jeanine’s family really loves the girls, and all in all, it’s a workable solution. Although I miss my family….”
Reaching across the booth, Colette touched his forearm. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.
Steve nodded. “So am I. Being a cop’s wife isn’t easy. You know that. I always admired the open, honest relationship you had with Derek. That’s one reason I was hoping to talk to you.”
Not sure what to say, Colette glanced down. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“You were a good wife.”
Her throat thickened with grief—and guilt, because it was Christian who dominated her thoughts these days, not Derek.
“Colette?”
“Sorry,” she said, plucking a napkin from the canister on the table.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” She lifted her head in surprise.
“I know this must come out of the blue, but would it be all right if I phoned you sometime?” Steve said quickly.
“I …” Colette felt flustered and uncertain. “Sure, I … guess.” This wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. It’d been years since she’d dated. That was obviously true for Steve, as well; he looked as uncomfortable as she did. If they were to start seeing each other, she’d have to tell him about the pregnancy. And yet, it seemed wrong for Steve to know and not Christian.
Suddenly he smiled and she saw him as the attractive man he was—not just Derek’s friend and one of a social foursome. His features were classic with a square jaw that suggested he could be stubborn, as well as determined. His dark brown eyes were perhaps a bit small and slightly close together, but that didn’t bother her. His hair was thick and well-groomed. He’d always looked good in a uniform and even more so in a suit. He exuded an authority that people instinctively respected. She remembered Derek’s saying that Steve had spent time in the marines.
“Are you doing anything this evening?” he asked, then laughed gruffly. “I don’t mean to rush you. It’s just that I’ve been lonely, and I like the idea of having someone to talk to.”
“Sorry, I’ve got a book club meeting this evening.” She considered skipping it but Anne Marie, the bookstore manager, had asked her to attend. This was the first session, so Colette felt obliged to keep her word.
Steve seemed disappointed. “Okay, I understand.”
“You could join us if you’d like,” she added, not wanting to discourage him. “I doubt everyone’s read the book, anyway.”
“You think it’d be all right?”
“I’m sure it’d be fine,” she said, warming to the idea. This wouldn’t be a real date. They’d be around other people, and conversation would focus on the story, not on them.
“I don’t remember you as a reader,” he commented, going back to his burger. “Jeanine always had a book in her hand.”
“I used to read quite a bit. After Derek died I couldn’t for the longest time. No matter how gripping the story, my attention wandered. It was all I could do to scan the newspaper and do the crossword puzzle.” In an entire year, she hadn’t finished a single puzzle. “But now, thanks to this book, I’m reading again.”
“What’s different about it?”
“I guess the story strikes close to home for me. It’s about a widow adjusting to life without her husband. The title is Good Grief, and it’s by a writer named Lolly Winston. It’s very moving and surprisingly funny, and I really enjoyed it.”
Colette had met the bookstore manager, who’d recommended the book, by accident. Anne Marie had been walking Baxter, her Yorkshire terrier, and the tiny dog had gotten his leash wrapped around Colette’s ankles. When Anne Marie learned that Colette lived above the yarn store, she’d invited her over for tea. Her own apartment was above Blossom Street Books; in other words, they were neighbors. Colette liked Anne Marie and had agreed to join the discussion group, especially after she’d read the book.
“Good Grief,” Steve repeated.
“I identified with how the widow felt. At one point she goes to work in her pajamas and housecoat. I laughed out loud and at the same time I was weeping because … well, there were days like that for me, too, especially at first.”
Steve nodded and was about to speak when his cell phone rang. He automatically reached for it and snapped it open. “Grisham,” he said in a terse voice, instantly the professional.
Colette ate a little more of her soup but after the latte her appetite was gone. She really should be getting back to the shop; she was already five minutes late and still had a brisk walk ahead of her.
Steve closed the cell and clipped it back to his waistband. “I have to go.”
“Me, too.” She picked up her purse.
“Listen,