The Shop on Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber
wanted to continue. She hadn’t found the class “awful” at all; that was an exaggeration for Reese’s benefit. Other than the confrontation with Alix, she’d enjoyed the lesson. At one point, Lydia had told them to walk around the shop and choose three balls of yarn in their favorite colors. At the time it’d seemed like a useless exercise. Jacqueline had chosen a silver gloss, a deep purple and a vibrant red. Lydia’s next instruction had been to choose wool in the color she disliked most. Jacqueline had gone immediately to a skein of bright yellow, which was the color that appealed to her least. Lydia had talked about contrasting colors and showed how they often complement each other. In fact, the yellow had looked completely different against the purple, and just as Lydia had said, the contrast was surprisingly effective.
She’d discovered that so much of knitting was about choosing the textures and colors, which was something she hadn’t considered before. Jacqueline had walked out of the class with the realization that she’d learn far more than the basic knitting stitches. That, however, did little to quell her uneasiness concerning Alix.
“I might decide to attend the second beginners’ session later in the summer,” Jacqueline muttered, still unsure of what to do. She’d paid for the entire six-week course and detested the thought of some hoodlum driving her away with intimidation and ill-manners.
The doorbell rang and Jacqueline felt the tension crawl up her spine. While Reese answered the door, she forced a smile and moved into the formal living room, hands clasped in front of her. She waited for Reese to greet Paul and Tammie Lee in the foyer.
“How wonderful to see you both,” Jacqueline purred, extending her arms to Tammie Lee and her son as they entered the room. She briefly hugged her daughter-in-law and grazed Paul’s cheek with her lips. Now that she knew Tammie Lee was pregnant, she wondered how she hadn’t guessed earlier. Her daughter-in-law was definitely showing—enough to be wearing a maternity top.
Paul and Tammie Lee sat on the sofa, so close their shoulders touched. They held hands, as if to proclaim that nothing would tear them apart.
While Reese poured a glass of wine for Paul, Jacqueline carried in the platter of hors d’oeuvres. Tammie Lee smiled up at Jacqueline.
“I just love shrimp and ever since I’ve been pregnant I’ve had the worst craving for them,” she said in a soft twang. “Just ask Paul. I think he must be thoroughly sick of shrimp, but he never complains.” She gazed lovingly toward her husband as she accepted a small napkin and two crackers.
Paul cast his wife a look of love and pride, and it was all Jacqueline could do to maintain her composure. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand what her son saw in this girl.
“What can I get you to drink?” Reese asked Tammie Lee when he brought Paul his wineglass.
“It’s so nice of you to ask, but I’m just fine, thank you.”
If there was anything for which to be grateful, Jacqueline mused, it was the fact that Tammie Lee seemed to be taking care of herself during the pregnancy. At least she had that much common sense.
Reese and Jacqueline sat across from them in leather chairs, with a polished mahogany end table between them. They so rarely used the formal living room that five years after she’d purchased the chairs they still smelled of new leather.
“I think we should tell them,” Tammie Lee whispered to Paul.
Paul nodded and squeezed her hand. “Tammie Lee had an ultrasound this afternoon and it seems we’re having a baby girl.” He smiled. “Sometimes they can’t be sure, but our technician was quite positive it’s a girl.”
“A girl,” Reese repeated and the happiness in his voice was unmistakable. He stood and clapped Paul on the back. “Did you hear that, Jacquie? We’re finally getting our baby girl!”
Jacqueline felt her hands go numb. “A granddaughter,” she repeated as the odd tingling sensation spread up her arms. Oh, how she’d once longed for a daughter.
“We haven’t chosen any names yet,” Tammie Lee rushed to add in that soft drawl of hers. It always made her sound as if she was talking underwater. “We only decided this afternoon that we wanted to know the sex of the baby. You’re the first people we’ve told.”
“Your mother and I had always hoped for a little girl,” Reese said, echoing Jacqueline’s thoughts.
“That’s … wonderful,” Jacqueline finally managed.
“We decided we should let you know, Mom,” Paul said, directing his attention to her for the first time, “so you’d know what color yarn to get for the baby blanket.”
“Mrs. Donovan, I declare, when Paul told me you were knitting a blanket for the baby, it just warmed my heart. Y’all have been so kind to me.” She planted both hands over her stomach and sighed.
That twang of Tammie Lee’s put Jacqueline’s teeth on edge. Some might find it pleasing, but to Jacqueline it sounded uneducated. Unrefined.
“There’s more news,” Paul said, moving toward the edge of the sofa cushion.
“More?” Reese said. “Don’t tell me you’re having twins.”
“Nothing like that.” Paul laughed shortly.
Tammie Lee grinned at her husband. “Twins! I’m so nervous about one baby, I can’t even imagine what would happen if we had two.”
Paul turned to share such a gentle look with his wife that Jacqueline glanced away. Any hope she had of her son regretting his marriage died a quick death.
“So what’s your other news?” Reese asked.
Paul’s face brightened. “I got word last week that Tammie Lee and I have been accepted into the Seattle Country Club.” The club, to which Jacqueline and Reese belonged, was the most prestigious in the area. New memberships were limited to only a few each year. It went without saying that only the right kind of people were accepted. One of Jacqueline’s first thoughts when she was introduced to Tammie Lee was that Paul had ruined his chances of ever joining the country club.
“I’m so pleased,” Jacqueline said, doing her best to smile. Apparently Tammie Lee’s lengthy and inappropriate discussions of southern cuisine hadn’t been as much of a detriment as she’d assumed.
“I’ve been asked to work on the cookbook committee,” Tammie Lee gushed as if this was the greatest compliment of her life. “I can’t tell you the number of times someone’s asked me to share my mama’s, Aunt Thelma’s and Aunt Frieda’s favorite recipes.”
“Recipes for what?” Jacqueline blurted out the question before she could stop herself.
“Mainly folks want to know about hush puppies. Four or five ladies have already asked me about those.”
“Hush puppies?”
“It’s like cornbread, Mother,” Paul supplied.
“I know what they are,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Paul loves my hush puppies,” Tammie Lee twanged in her eagerness to continue. “My mama told me they got their name from hunters who threw leftover ends of the cornbread to their dogs to keep ‘em quiet at night.”
“This is the recipe you’re submitting to the Seattle Country Club Cookbook?” Jacqueline was convinced she’d never be able to show her face in public again.
“Oh, and I asked Mama for Grandma’s recipe for Brunswick stew, which is my daddy’s all-time favorite. My grandma was raised in Georgia before she married my grandpa and moved to Tennessee. I was almost eighteen before we moved to Louisiana, so I really consider myself a bluegrass girl.”
“Brunswick stew,” Jacqueline said. That at least sounded presentable.
“It’s a southern version of chili. Mama always served it when we had a barbecue. Mama has Grandma’s original recipe