Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie Macomber
take much longer to heal.
Her one consolation was the fact that, despite everything, Mark had sent someone to check on her. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. A tiny fracture in his resistance. It gave her hope.
By Monday evening, Barbie’s knee was healing nicely. Although she didn’t need to, she wore a huge bandage over it and a short skirt, short enough to reveal her bandaged knee.
Tessa was at the ticket window when Barbie approached.
“So, which movie should I see?” Barbie asked, the same as she had the week before.
Tessa’s dark brown eyes searched hers. “He isn’t here.”
“You mean not yet, right?”
“Uncle Mark’s not coming, period.”
“Why not?” Barbie couldn’t have disguised her disappointment if she’d wanted to.
“He figured out that I was the one feeding you information.” Tessa sounded as disgruntled as Barbie felt.
Because she was holding up the line, Barbie stepped aside until there was a break.
“I’m sorry,” Tessa murmured. “He told me he won’t be coming to the movies again and that I should make sure you knew it.”
“Oh,” Barbie murmured. “Do you see him outside the movies very often?”
Tessa shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“Next time you do, tell him I think he’s a coward.”
Tessa’s jaw dropped. “You’re not serious.”
“Yes, I am,” Barbie insisted. “Tell him that for me.”
She purchased her ticket, plus popcorn and a soda. Although she sat through the entire movie, she couldn’t remember a single scene.
Chapter 14
Monday evening Anne Marie put a meat-loaf-and-potato casserole in the oven. It was a favorite recipe of her mother’s and one she hadn’t made in years. The meat mixture baked with sliced raw potatoes, both covered in tomato sauce. Anne Marie had liked it when she was around Ellen’s age and she hoped Ellen would, too.
As she closed the oven door, she noticed Ellen approaching the large oak desk where she kept the scrapbooking materials for her Twenty Wishes book.
“What’s this?” Ellen asked, looking over her shoulder.
“My Twenty Wishes.”
“Twenty Wishes,” the girl repeated. “What are those?”
“Well, on Valentine’s Day, my friends and I had a small party. We started talking about all the things we’d wished for in our lives and then we each decided to make a list.”
“Just twenty?”
Anne Marie laughed. So far, coming up with twenty had been hard enough, and in fact, she was only halfway there. “This is fine for now. I’ll think of more later on,” she said. “In fact, I’m still working on my first twenty.” She had a total of nine: the five she’d written earlier, plus her most recent additions.
6. Find a reason to laugh
7. Sing again
8. Purchase a home for me and Baxter
9. Attend a Broadway musical and learn all the songs by heart
She was considering a line dancing class, which was a wish she’d erased earlier. The St. Patrick’s Day performance had inspired her interest in dancing again.
“The wishes don’t need to be practical,” Anne Marie went on to explain. “That’s why they’re called wishes instead of resolutions or goals.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t necessarily expect them all to happen.”
“If you don’t expect them to happen,” Ellen asked, regarding her quizzically, “then why are you writing them down?”
“Because they’re wishes,” Anne Marie said. Finding a pen, she added a wish she’d erased two or three times.
10. Travel to Paris with someone I love
That encompassed the essence of what she sought—love, adventure, new experiences.
Ellen stared down at the recently entered wish. “Can anyone make a list like this?”
“Of course.” Anne Marie set the timer on the oven. They’d gotten into a routine, the two of them, during the past five days. It felt as if Ellen had been with her much longer. One obvious difference in her life was that Anne Marie now regularly cooked dinner.
Ever since she’d started living alone, she’d fallen into the habit of grabbing something quick and easy or skipping dinner altogether, which she could ill afford to do. But Ellen needed regular nutritious meals and a daily structure. With everything else in the girl’s life in upheaval, Anne Marie could at least offer her that.
The phone rang and Anne Marie picked it up immediately before Call Display could even register the number. She was expecting to hear from Elise, whom she’d been trying to reach all afternoon. “Hello.” She figured Elise wanted to share her news, which Anne Marie had already heard via the neighborhood grapevine. Elise had taken a part-time job working for Lydia at A Good Yarn.
“Anne Marie, it’s Brandon.”
“Brandon! It’s great to hear from you,” she said with genuine pleasure.
“I’ve been meaning to call you for a couple of weeks,” he went on. “Melissa told me what she did. I can’t believe my sister sometimes. And as for my father…”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” That was mostly true.
“You’re sure?” Brandon pressed. “To be fair to Melissa, I doubt she realized how hard you’d take that business about Dad. And she was pretty devastated herself.”
“Really, it’s okay,” Anne Marie lied, brushing off his concern. The last thing she wanted was to talk about her husband’s indiscretion—or even think about it. She felt a rush of pain whenever she remembered and constantly guarded herself against the image of Robert with Rebecca. In his office, on the couch…
“You’re sure?” he asked again. He didn’t seem convinced.
“Yes. Positive.” As much as possible she made light of the incident.
Her stepson hesitated a moment, then blurted out, “Let me take you to dinner tonight. I know it’s short notice, but we could talk and—”
“I can’t.” She hoped he’d take her at her word, not force her to explain.
“Why not?” Brandon’s voice fell with disappointment.
“I have a visitor.”
Her announcement was met with a short silence. “Anne Marie, are you seeing someone?” he asked somberly.
“No, of course not!” The question amused her. “Melissa asked me the same thing.”
“Of course not? Why say it like that? You’re young and beautiful and—”
“I’m with a…friend.”
“Ah, the mystery intensifies.”
“It’s not a mystery,” she said, smiling at his teasing banter. “It’s Ellen. She’s eight and she’s living with me for the next week or two.”
“You have an eight-year-old living with you? Is she a relative of yours?”
“No, I met her through a nearby school—the Lunch Buddies program. Why don’t you