Five
Anne Marie Roche
Anne Marie and Ellen Roche hauled their suitcases up the stairs to the small apartment above Blossom Street Books. The flight from Paris had landed them back in Seattle midafternoon but it felt like the middle of the night to Anne Marie.
Nine-year-old Ellen had slept for most of the flight, but not Anne Marie. Instead, she’d cradled her daughter with one arm and reveled in each and every precious memory of their two-week vacation.
Even after nearly eight months it seemed unbelievable that she was now legally Ellen’s mother. A few words in front of a judge had made it so. In truth, the judge’s proclamation had been a mere formality. Anne Marie had become Ellen’s mother in her mind, in her heart, long before anything was official.
Almost a year and a half earlier, on Valentine’s Day, Anne Marie, together with three other widows, had made a list of twenty wishes. One of her wishes was to travel to Paris with someone she loved. That someone had turned out to be Ellen. A number of her wishes had come to pass, and some, like the Paris trip, had taken place in unexpected ways.
“Can we get Baxter now?” Ellen asked, racing out of her small bedroom, where she’d deposited her suitcase.
“In a little while.”
Anne Marie missed her Yorkie, too. Her friend Elise Beaumont—one of the group of Valentine widows—had looked after Baxter these past two weeks. Anne Marie had predicted that by the time they got back, Elise would recognize the benefits of canine companionship.
“I want to teach Baxter French,” Ellen said.
The girl had picked up phrases with surprising ease and was determined not to forget a single word.
“J’aime la France,” Ellen said.
“Moi, aussi.” Anne Marie remembered that much French, despite her exhaustion.
“S’il te plaît, donne moi quelques bon-bons?” Ellen asked next.
“No, you can’t have any candy!”
“Ah, Mom...”
Anne Marie returned to her unpacking. “Let me put in a load of wash and then we’ll go get Baxter.”
Ellen went back to her bedroom and finished unpacking her own suitcase. Then she stored it beneath her bed, which was littered with souvenirs she’d purchased in Paris for herself and special friends.
Anne Marie was touched by the girl’s generosity. Ellen had spent all the money she’d saved from her allowance on trinkets for her school friends as well as Melissa, Anne Marie’s stepdaughter, and her baby girl.
After dumping a load of clothes in the washer and setting the dial, Anne Marie called Elise and asked if it would be convenient to collect Baxter. She was told they could come anytime. While she was on the phone she decided to check her voice mail. With pen and pad in hand, she prepared to listen to two weeks’ worth of messages. Among them, as she expected, were a number of calls from real estate agents.
The time had come to search for a home. The apartment above the bookstore had been fine when it was just her, but she had a daughter to consider now. Anne Marie had started looking and hoped to find a place this summer. With Ellen’s circumstances so changed, she’d delayed the move, wanting the child to feel secure in her new life.
There were four or five calls regarding houses in the neighborhood Anne Marie had chosen. She wanted Ellen to be able to attend the same school. Unfortunately, the homes in that neighborhood were older, and many were badly in need of updating and repairs. Anne Marie would have to pay for the work, and that added extensively to the cost.
To her surprise there were a number of hang-ups, as well. She generally didn’t get more than one or two a month, if that. After the third, she began counting and tallied seven. Someone seemed to be trying hard to get hold of her, although she had no idea who it might be.
Well, no point in worrying about it. Anyone this persistent was bound to try again. However, the fact that this person hadn’t left a message was a bit disconcerting.
“Is anything wrong?” Ellen murmured as she entered the kitchen.
“No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“You’re frowning,” Ellen said, studying her, sensitive as always to her moods.
It meant that Anne Marie had to be careful not to overdramatize her emotions. “Everything’s fine. Now let’s go pick up Baxter,” she said, grabbing Ellen about the waist and tickling her.
The girl squealed delightedly.
Reaching for her purse, Anne Marie followed Ellen, who bounced down the stairs ahead of her.
Teresa, her full-time employee, looked up when Ellen burst into the bookstore. “I didn’t expect you guys to go out so soon,” she commented. She stood behind the cash register, opening the latest order from Ingram’s, a distributor. Cartons of books were stacked behind her, a good indication that business hadn’t slacked off while Anne Marie was away.
“We’re going to get Baxter,” Anne Marie explained. “We probably won’t be long.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Exhausted,” Anne Marie told her.
“Ellen seems raring to go.”
That wasn’t unusual. But Anne Marie suspected jet lag would catch up with her soon.
“Can we say hello to Susannah?” Ellen asked.
“Of course, but remember if she’s with a customer we’ll have to wait.”
“Okay.” Ellen held the shop door open for her.
Susannah had two customers, but when she saw Anne Marie and Ellen, she smiled and waved.
“Lydia and Margaret don’t look busy,” Ellen said as she peered into the front window of A Good Yarn. Her small hands framed her face and she stared at the sleeping cat. “Whiskers misses Baxter, too, don’t you, Whiskers?” she asked. “Can we go in, Mom?”
“We can only visit for a few minutes,” Anne Marie cautioned. “Elise is waiting and so is Baxter.”
“Okay.”
As soon as they walked in, Lydia leaped to her feet. “Anne Marie! Ellen! Welcome home. How was Paris?”
Anne Marie sighed luxuriously. “Wonderful! Everything I’ve ever imagined and more.”
Lydia clasped her hands together and smiled warmly. “I knew it would be.”
“How did the neighborhood survive without us?” Anne Marie teased.
“It was a lot quieter,” Margaret called from the back of the shop where she sat crocheting. Then she broke into a huge grin. “And a lot less interesting, too.”
“I think Whiskers missed Baxter,” Lydia said.
“We’re going to get him right now,” Ellen told her. “I missed Baxter more than anyone.”
“I’d miss Whiskers, too.” Lydia turned to Anne Marie, her eyes shining. “Listen, do you have a moment?” she asked.
“Sure,” Anne Marie said. “What’s up?”
Lydia’s joy was contagious. “Brad and I are going to adopt. We’ve requested an infant.”
Anne Marie clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s incredible news.”
“I heard this morning that Brad and I have been approved by the state.”
“Did you speak with Evelyn Boyle?” She’d been Ellen’s social worker and Anne Marie had come to treasure the other woman, who’d been so instrumental in facilitating the adoption. She’d given Lydia Evelyn’s phone number weeks ago and had been wondering if anything had come of it.
Lydia nodded. “She’s been so helpful. We really appreciate the referral.”
“Any word on how long it’ll be before you can adopt a baby?”
“Not yet. Brad and I are prepared to wait, though.”
“Well, I hope it happens soon.”
“Me, too.” Lydia smiled happily. “We’re celebrating tonight. Brad’s taking Cody and me out to dinner.”
“Can we come, too?” Ellen asked.
“Ellen! No, we can’t,” Anne Marie chastened. “It’s not polite to invite yourself along.”
“I know, but I have a gift for Cody from Paris and I want to give it to him.”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” Anne Marie reminded her and then, despite her best efforts, yawned. “I don’t think anyone’s mentioned jet lag to Ellen yet. I expect it’ll hit her in a couple of hours.” As for Anne Marie, her feet were dragging. Once they’d returned with Baxter, she was planning on taking a nap. Ellen would be tired by then, too—she hoped.
“I see you’re starting a new class this week.” The sign in the window had caught her notice and she found herself intrigued by the concept. Not that there was anything she needed to quit. She was satisfied with her life at the moment—more satisfied than she’d been since the early days of her marriage.
“Are you interested?” Lydia told her about the project she’d chosen. Anne Marie liked the sound of it, but a night class would be too difficult.
Maybe she could get the pattern from Lydia. She’d bought some beautiful yarn in Paris and a scarf would be the perfect thing to knit.
“Do you want to join the class?” Lydia asked. “Even if you’re not trying to give up any bad habits. Alix already signed up because she wants to quit smoking—again.”
“I’d love to—but I can’t leave Ellen by herself. I want to make the scarf, though.”
“I’ll be happy to help with the pattern if you run into any problems.”
“Thanks, Lydia, I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Anne Marie and Ellen left the shop, the little girl pointed across the street to the French Café. “Alix!” she cried. “I want to say hello to Alix.”
“Ellen, we’ll have to do that later. Besides, Alix is probably off work by now.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot....”
“Are you ready for Baxter?”
“Yeah!”
Ellen ran ahead of her to where Anne Marie kept her car in the alley behind the bookstore. She wondered if she’d have any problems after leaving it for over two weeks unused, but the engine fired immediately to life. Anne Marie backed carefully out of her parking space and onto Blossom Street.
As they arrived at Elise’s small condominium just north of downtown, Anne Marie called to let her know they’d be up in a minute. Elise and Baxter were waiting, and the instant Baxter caught sight of them he nearly did flips of joy. He barked and ran around, then leaped into Ellen’s arms.
Ellen hugged him close as Baxter spread happy kisses across her face and yelped excitedly all over again.
“I think he missed us.” Anne Marie laughed.
“Well, he certainly didn’t lack for attention here,” Elise said, smiling as she spoke. “I enjoyed his companionship so much I’ve decided to get a dog of my own.”
Anne Marie had hoped this would happen. Elise had gone through a painful grieving period after her husband’s death. It had been different, in some ways, from Anne Marie’s experience, since Elise’s husband—Maverick by name and maverick by nature, as he used to describe himself—had died of cancer. He’d lingered for several years, and Elise had said she was grateful for each extra day. Anne Marie’s husband, Robert, however, had died suddenly, unexpectedly, of a massive heart attack.
“Do you want a Yorkie like Baxter?” Ellen asked.
“I’m not sure just yet,” Elise said in a pensive tone. “I’ll go down to the Humane Society and see what dogs they have available. It seems to me that Maverick would want me to adopt a rescue dog. He always believed in second chances....”
Her gaze fell lovingly on the portrait of her late husband. He wore his cowboy hat and smiled directly into the camera. There was an irrepressible quality about him, Anne Marie thought. As though taking risks was all part of life—taking risks and accepting the consequences with a grin and a wink.
Anne Marie and Ellen left soon after. They’d brought Elise a gift of thanks for looking after the dog—a lovely blue silk scarf with a fleur-de-lis pattern. Ellen cradled Baxter in her arms, murmuring to him as they walked to the car. When they clambered into the backseat, Baxter curled up on Ellen’s lap and promptly went to sleep.
By the time Anne Marie pulled in behind Blossom Street Books, both Ellen and Baxter were napping soundly. It seemed a shame to wake Ellen, who looked up at her with drooping eyes.
“We’re home?” the little girl asked.
Anne Marie nodded. “Let’s go upstairs and tuck you into bed, all right?”
“Okay.”
Anne Marie helped her climb the stairs as the dog scrambled up ahead of them. Ellen fell asleep again within minutes. Anne Marie wanted to do a few chores before she took a nap herself. After transferring the wash to the dryer, she noticed the light blinking on her phone. Checking voice mail again, she discovered another hang-up.
Curious now, Anne Marie hurried down to the bookstore. Teresa glanced up from some new greeting cards she was arranging in the rack.
“Oh, Anne Marie, hi. I didn’t expect to see you for the rest of the day.”
“How are things?” she asked, looking around. She saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Great. The summer releases are so good this year, I can hardly keep the new hardcovers on the shelves.”
This was welcome news.
“Anything...unusual happen while I was away?” Anne Marie wasn’t sure how to phrase the question.
Teresa bit her lip as if considering how to respond. “Not really... What makes you ask?”
“There were a number of hang-ups on my personal phone. I’ve never had that before. I just wondered if it was something to do with the bookstore.”
Teresa shrugged. “I’m sorry. I have no idea.”
“Okay, I was just curious. It’s a bit odd, that’s all.” Anne Marie collected her mail and turned away.
“Wait a minute,” Teresa said, stopping her.
Anne Marie turned back. “Yes?”
“There was someone here earlier in the week. A man. He asked to speak to you regarding a private matter.”
A private matter? “Did he leave his name or number?”
“No. I asked, and he said he’d contact you later.”
Again, this was all rather odd. “Did he say anything else?”
Teresa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, not that I can recall.”
“What did he look like?”
A smile wavered on her lips. “Actually, he was pretty hot.”
Anne Marie grinned. “Define hot.”
“Tall—about six-one, maybe six-two. In good shape. He’s nice-looking. Very nice-looking.”
“Dark hair? Or blond?”
“Dark. And brown eyes. He seemed anxious to talk to you. Do you know who it might be?”
Anne Marie shook her head.
“What about your hang-ups? That might’ve been him. Is there a number on caller ID?”
Anne Marie exhaled loudly. “It came up No Data.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see if he comes by again.”
That was her thought, too. Well, a tall, dark and handsome stranger apparently wanted to meet her. Things could be worse.