Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie Macomber
regret. This was it; the ride—and her relationship with Hector—was over. There was no further reason to see him. It wasn’t as though they’d ever encounter each other in the normal course of their lives.
He told her where to park, pointing at an empty slot.
“Thank you, Hector, for everything you’ve done,” she said, forcing a smile.
“My pleasure.”
They sat in the car, and he seemed as reluctant to move as she was.
“I should get back to work,” Hector finally said.
“Yes, of course.”
His hand was on the door handle. “It isn’t every day I get to ride with such a beautiful woman,” he said with quiet gallantry. He climbed out and gently closed the door. His eyes avoided hers. “Goodbye, Lillie.”
“Goodbye, Hector.”
He was a service manager for a car dealership and she was a wealthy widow. She accepted that their paths would likely never cross again. Despite that, she could do him one good turn. When she got home, Lillie phoned the dealership, leaving a message for the owner, Steve Sullivan. She praised Hector’s efforts on her behalf and stressed to Steve that he had an outstanding employee.
That way, at least, she could play a small, if benevolent, role in Hector’s life.
It wasn’t enough but it would have to do.
Chapter 9
Monday evening, Barbie showed up at the theater a little later than she had the previous week. Tessa Bassett was selling tickets again, and when she saw Barbie, her face lit up.
“Should I recommend another movie?” the girl asked cheerfully.
“Please do.” The ill-tempered Mark Bassett was the sole reason Barbie had come back. In the last week she’d spent a lot of time thinking about him. She felt strangely invigorated by the challenge he offered, but it was more than that. She was attracted to him, not only because of his looks but because she saw in him the same loneliness she’d experienced since her husband’s death. Once she made it past the barrier he’d erected against the world, perhaps they could be friends. Perhaps even more. The fact that he was physically disabled didn’t bother her, nor did she find it especially daunting. She knew it didn’t define or describe the person inside, any more than her appearance did.
Tessa mentioned a movie Barbie had never heard of and handed her the ticket, as well as her change.
“You’re sure this is a good movie?” Barbie asked.
Tessa’s eyes held hers. “It’s the perfect movie.”
Barbie was willing to take the girl’s word for it. In the theater lobby, she once again purchased a small bag of popcorn and a cold soda, then walked into the dimly lit theater.
She saw that Mark was already in one of the wheelchair spaces. Tessa had been right; this was the perfect movie.
Without hesitation, Barbie moved around the back and entered the row from the opposite direction. She sat down, leaving one empty seat between her and Mark.
The instant she did, he turned to glare at her. “This space is reserved for wheelchair seating.”
“Yes, I know,” she said as she crossed her legs. She started to eat her popcorn as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Feeling both silly and daring, she tossed a kernel in the air and caught it in her mouth. Proud of herself, she grinned triumphantly at Mark.
Clearly he wasn’t impressed with her dexterity. “Would you kindly move?”
His voice was even less friendly than it had been the last time.
“I have every right to sit here should I choose to do so,” she returned formally. She held out her bag of popcorn. “Here,” she said.
He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m offering you some of my popcorn.”
“What makes you think I want your popcorn?”
“You’re cranky. My boys get cranky when they’re hungry, so I figured that might be your problem.”
He looked pointedly away.
“If you’re not interested, the proper response is no, thank you.”
He ignored that, and Barbie munched her popcorn, swaying her leg back and forth.
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“Swinging your leg like a pendulum.”
She crossed the opposite leg and swung it, instead.
Mark groaned.
The theater darkened, and the previews appeared on the screen. Barbie finished the small bag of popcorn. Her hands were greasy, but in her rush to get into the theater she’d forgotten to pick up a napkin. She’d also forgotten to replace the tissues she kept in her purse. She stood up to go back to the lobby. Rather than march all the way down the row, she leaned over to nudge Mark.
“Excuse me.”
“You’re leaving?” He actually seemed pleased.
“No, I need a napkin. Can I get you anything while I’m up?”
“No,” he muttered.
She sighed audibly. “Are you always this rude or is it just me you don’t like?”
“It’s you.”
She refused to feel insulted; instead she interpreted his response as an admission that he was aware of her. Aware and interested.
“You act as if that pleases you,” he said, sounding surprised.
“Well, it doesn’t hurt my feelings if that was your intent. Now, can I get by? Please?”
With exaggerated effort, he rolled back his wheelchair, allowing her to exit the row.
Barbie pushed the sleeve of her soft cashmere sweater up her arm and hung her purse over her shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she told him. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Don’t hurry on my account.”
“I won’t.”
When she entered the lobby again, she saw that Tessa was working behind the concession stand. The girl looked curiously in her direction and Barbie nodded. She grabbed some napkins to wipe her hands, then walked over to wait her turn. She made an impulsive purchase, smiling as she did.
“How’s it going?” Tessa asked, handing her the change.
“He wants me to leave.”
Tessa seemed worried. “You’re not going to, are you?”
Barbie shook her head. “Not on your life.”
Tessa nearly rubbed her hands together with glee. “This is so cool.”
“What is?”
The teenager shrugged. “Well, you know. You and my uncle Mark. He needs someone in his life. He doesn’t think so, but… well, it’d just be so cool if that someone was you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Tessa.” Barbie felt obliged to warn her. “I’d better get back. The movie’s about to start.”
“Don’t let him give you any crap,” the girl advised. “Oops, I mean attitude.”
Barbie grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.
Attitude was the right word, she mused as she made her way into the theater. It wasn’t hard to figure out that his surliness was an attempt to protect himself from pain and rejection. If there was one thing she knew about, it was dealing with the insecurities of the adolescent male. And