Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)

Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6) Page 47

“Listen, I wish I could chat longer, but I need to go and change.”

“Wear something bright and cheerful,” Barbie told her.

“Okay.” Anne Marie didn’t bother to say she’d already planned to.

“You’re meeting at the restaurant, correct?”

“Correct,” Anne Marie conf irmed. She wanted it that way, despite Barbie and Mark’s assurances that Mel would be happy to pick her up.

She hugged Barbie and pecked Mark on the cheek, then headed upstairs to change clothes for her “hot date.”

By the time she’d f inished, Ellen and Baxter had returned. Ellen stared at her. “You look really pretty.”

That comment pleased Anne Marie, and she glanced at the hallway mirror. She wanted to make a positive f irst impression and had chosen her outf it carefully. She wore white linen pants with a pale yellow shell under a white blazer. Even to her own critical eye, she looked good.

She’d taken as long to decide on the jewelry—an antique cameo on a gold chain—as the clothes themselves. She’d had her hair done earlier in the day; she’d needed a haircut, anyway, so she’d timed it to coincide with her date.

A knock at the back door told her Tim had arrived. Ellen let him in. “What did you bring me, what did you bring me?” she asked, jumping up and down.

This was exactly the behavior Anne Marie wanted to put a stop to. Ellen had become a little too accustomed to his frequent gifts.

“Dinner.” Tim set a white bag on the kitchen table. He did a double-take when he saw Anne Marie. “You look fabulous. What’s the occasion?”

“Thanks.” She ignored the question and drank in the appreciation shining in his eyes. Ellen gladly supplied the news. “Mom’s got a hot date.”

Tim’s smile faded. “You’re going out? I thought you had an appointment.”

“I do. It’s an appointment for dinner.” She didn’t feel it was necessary to explain any more than she already had. Tim didn’t keep her updated on his relationship with Vanessa.

“I see,” he murmured, but he didn’t ask any further questions.

“I won’t be late…I don’t think,” she said as she retrieved her purse and her car keys.

“Ten?”

“Maybe, but to be on the safe side let’s say eleven. If I’m going to be any later, I’ll phone.” She probably would anyway, just to check up on Ellen, whose arm still hurt at night.

“Take as long as you want,” Tim said.

“You don’t need to be home at any particular time?”

Tim shook his head. “None.” He opened the door. “Have a nice evening.” His gaze held hers and his words seemed sincere.

“Thank you.” Anne Marie kissed Ellen, gave her f inal instructions, then left the apartment. Mel turned out to be everything Barbie and Mark had promised. To begin with, he was distinguished-looking, dressed in a classy suit and tie, and sexy in that Sean Connery way she found so attractive. Like Mark, he was an architect. Their dinner conversation didn’t lag even once; they discovered in short order that they shared the same political views, enjoyed many of the same movies and authors, and were both Placido Domingo fans.

The evening passed so quickly that Anne Marie was startled to see it was after ten.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said as she reached for her purse. “I need to check on my daughter.” She paused, not wanting to appear rude. Mel gestured with his hand. “Go ahead, by all means.”

Tim answered on the second ring and immediately reassured Anne Marie. “Everything went great. Ellen’s been asleep for over an hour.”

“Did she say her prayers?”

Tim chuckled. “Oh, yes. Does it generally go on as long as it did this evening?”

“Five minutes?” The child took her prayers seriously.

“Longer.”

“I f igured as much.” No doubt Ellen had been hoping to impress her father.

“She prayed for you,” Tim informed her. “She seems to think you’re going to marry your, uh, hot date.”

“That’s interesting. And how did she feel about it?”

“She seemed okay with it.”

Anne Marie smiled across the table at Mel.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Tim was asking.

“In about half an hour.” She didn’t want to continue a conversation with Tim while she was with her date, so she ended the call. “See you then.” She dropped the cell back in her bag. They f inished the last of their coffee, and then Anne Marie regretfully said she’d have to go. Mel walked her to her car, one hand lightly clasping her elbow. It was a gesture both protective and respectful, and it reminded her suddenly of Robert.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said. “I really enjoyed meeting you.”

“Would it be possible to see you again?” Mel asked.

“I’d like that.”

He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I haven’t dated since Laura died, and…well, meeting you has been a very pleasant surprise.”

It had been for Anne Marie, as well.

As she drove home, a relaxed, comfortable feeling stole over her. She’d agreed to this date because of Tim. Her attraction to him had shown her that she’d healed enough to enter into a new relationship. It’d led to an embarrassing situation but she’d recovered from that. One thing was certain: She wasn’t going to make any assumptions about Mel. Like her, he still carried the pain of having lost a spouse. That loss would never entirely leave either of them.

Tim was f lipping through a copy of The New Yorker when she walked into the apartment. As soon as he saw her, he threw down the magazine.

“Well,” he said, standing, “how did it go?”

“Fine,” she told him, then amended her statement. “Actually, it went really well. I like Mel.”

Tim nodded, sliding his hands into his back jean pockets.

“Thank you for staying with Ellen. My mother said she’d watch her, but I hated to drag Ellen over there. She still wakes up once or twice a night because her arm aches.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he seemed reluctant to leave.

“Anything I can get you?” she asked, taking off her linen jacket.

“A cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” She moved into the kitchen and brewed a small pot, f illing two cups. “How do you take it?”

“Black.” She recalled that but didn’t want to seem presumptuous—

or interested enough to notice.

Tim was already sitting at the kitchen table, his elbows propped on a place mat. Anne Marie handed him the coffee, then sat across from him, waiting for him to speak.

Eventually he did. “I thought you should know I’m no longer seeing Vanessa.”

“I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“She recently had a second slip. She got drunk.”

Anne Marie nodded; she remembered he’d mentioned the first time this had happened.

“Once I could forgive, but when I found out she’d been drinking again, I told her it was over. I can’t expose Ellen to that, and Vanessa’s behavior the afternoon Ellen broke her arm was inexcusable.”

“I’m sorry if I played a role in this,” Anne Marie felt obliged to say.

Tim ignored that. “Vanessa has to accept responsibility for her own actions, the same way we all do.”

Anne Marie reached across the table and touched his arm. “I know this must be hard on you.”

He gave her a sad smile. “I’d planned to tell you this earlier in the evening, about Vanessa and me.” He hesitated.

“Yes?” Clearly there was more.

“And suggest the two of us start dating,” he said. “I never did have a good sense of timing,” he added with a rueful laugh. He couldn’t have shocked her more. “The two of…us?” She’d put the matter so completely out of her mind, she hardly knew how to react.

“Would you consider it?” he asked.

“I…yes, I’ll think about it,” she said, still in a daze. Tim took a single sip of his coffee, then got to his feet. Anne Marie walked him to the door.

As they reached it, he turned back. “Maybe this will help,” he said and before she realized what he was going to do, he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was tender and persuasive, so persuasive that her knees felt as if they might buckle.

“Good night, Anne Marie,” he whispered in a voice that didn’t sound like his.

He left, and Anne Marie leaned against the door, eyes wide with shock…and pleasure. This was a most unexpected turn of events.

Chapter 35

Watching a complex stitch pattern grow as I knit silences the voice in my head that tells me to sweep the f loor. I imagine dust bunnies are knitting themselves together under my chair.

—Katherine Misegades, designer. www.atimetoknit.com Lydia Goetz

Casey was so quiet lately and standoffish, too. I’d tried to reach her, but the harder I tried the more she withdrew. This frustrated me to no end.

I had Saturday free, my f irst since the day we’d rented bikes at Green Lake. After looking through the newspaper ads, I decided to do some school shopping for Cody and for Casey, too. I assumed…I hoped Casey might enjoy going shopping with me. Brad, Cody and I had already had breakfast by the time Casey emerged from her bedroom.

“Morning, beautiful,” Brad said, smiling. He sat at the kitchen table, lingering over his coffee before he headed out to mow the lawn. During the summer he’d started calling Casey beauti-ful and princess.

At f irst Casey had scowled and claimed she wasn’t beautiful nor was she anyone’s princess. Brad ignored those comments and continued—until she either accepted his affection or got tired of arguing with him.

“Morning,” came her less-than-friendly reply.

“I’m glad you’re up,” I said, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice. “How about a trip to the mall? Just you and me.”

Casey opened the cupboard and took out a box of cereal.

“What for?”

Her wariness surprised me. I’d f igured this would be one invitation she’d jump at. What twelve-year-old girl didn’t want to visit the mall?

“Do you need a reason to shop?” I asked.

She shrugged, but I could see that, despite herself, her interest was piqued.

“I need to get Cody some jeans for school and a new winter coat. He hates shopping.”

“So do I,” Brad inserted.

“Like father, like son,” I said blithely.

As Casey shook cereal into her bowl and poured milk over top, she offered me a quick smile.

“You can help me pick out the things he needs,” I coaxed.

“Wanna come?”

“I guess.” This was said as if she was doing me a tremendous favor by keeping me company.

“While we’re out we should get a few things for you, too.” I waited in vain for a reaction, although I’d felt conf ident she’d be excited at the prospect.