The Shop on Blossom Street

Jacqueline was amused by the story but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that making a fuss over Reese would change anything. “More power to your aunt Frieda,” she said.



“No, Mom,” Tammie Lee said, staring up at her intently. “The power is yours, too. And you can use it as you wish.”



Her daughter-in-law’s words still rang in her mind as Jacqueline drove home. She pulled into the garage and entered the dark and silent house. Martha had left a chef’s salad in the refrigerator for her dinner; she sat down at the kitchen table and nibbled at it, but she didn’t have much appetite. The house seemed full of little sounds. Creaks and moans. They only emphasized the emptiness of the place, and she put on some music to distract herself.



Twenty minutes later, she gave up, deciding to have a bath earlier than usual. After her bath, she generally went to bed to read—and to listen for Reese. Some nights she read until the morning hours without hearing him at all. She’d never acknowledged that she waited for him, but tonight the truth was like an intruder standing in the middle of her bedroom.



Despite all her husband’s years of infidelity, the pain was almost overwhelming. At this very moment, he was with another woman and she’d allowed his philandering to continue, accepted it as if it were normal. Jacqueline realized she couldn’t pretend any longer. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t!



Half-undressed, the bathwater running in the tub, she walked into the kitchen, each step filled with righteous indignation. She jerked open a drawer and reached for the country club directory. Tossing it on the kitchen counter, she searched for Allan Anderson’s number. They’d been good friends for years, and he was the best divorce attorney in town. Once he got his hands on this case, her husband would pay dearly for what he’d done to her and to their lives.



All at once, the virtuous anger left her and she closed the directory, but her hand lingered there.



Dear God in heaven, what was she thinking? She didn’t want a divorce, she wanted her husband. She wanted Reese!



Somehow, some way, she’d have to win him back.



Slowly now, lost in her thoughts, she walked into the bathroom again and turned off the water. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she pressed her fingers to her temples as she considered what to do.



The sound of the garage door closing startled her. Jacqueline stood, her heart pounding at a furious pace. It couldn’t possibly be Reese. Not this early. He was rarely home before nine.



“Reese, is that you?” she called out, then silently chastised herself. Who else could it be? A burglar wasn’t likely to announce his arrival.



“I’m home,” her husband called back flatly.



Slipping on her robe, Jacqueline came out of the bathroom to see her husband standing at the kitchen counter, sorting through the mail. He seemed surprised to see her.



Where she found the courage, Jacqueline didn’t know, but she stepped boldly forward.



Reese casually glanced up. “Yes?”



“It’s over. I want that understood here and now. I won’t put up with this any longer.”



He blinked and stared at her. Thankfully he didn’t make a pretense of not knowing what she meant.



“I won’t,” she repeated.



He continued to stare, his expression incredulous.



“First of all,” she went on, “it’s demeaning to me as your wife. I’ve looked the other way for the last time. I won’t do it again. I tried to pretend it doesn’t matter and for a while I managed to convince myself—but it does. It matters very much.”



“What—”



Jacqueline kept talking. If she didn’t finish this now, while she had the courage, she might not have another chance. “I’ve never been the kind of wife to issue ultimatums or make demands, but I’m doing it now. Whoever she is, get rid of her. I don’t care what it costs. I want her out of your life and mine.”



Reese shook his head, apparently speechless.



“I won’t allow our grandchildren to grow up seeing me treated with that kind of disrespect.” Here she was, having what was possibly the most important discussion of her marriage, while standing barefoot in the middle of her kitchen dressed only in a robe.



Frowning, Reese went back to sorting the mail.



Tammie Lee’s story rolled through her mind and Jacqueline dragged in a fortifying breath. Since she’d come this far, she might as well go for broke. “There’s more,” she announced with as much dignity as she could muster.



“More?”



She nodded and stepped closer. “As a matter of fact, there’s a great deal more. I happen to love you, Reese. I don’t know what went wrong between us and…and whatever it was, I share the blame. But I’m lonely, Reese, and I want you back in my bed.” Her voice caught. For one crazy moment, Jacqueline imagined herself as Tammie Lee’s Aunt Frieda. She propped one hand on her hip, jutted out her shoulder and lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “I promise I’ll be all the woman you’ll ever need.”



The look in her husband’s eyes was beyond description as he dropped the mail. “Jacquie? Are you serious?”



She laughed in a way she hoped sounded sexy and sensuous. “Don’t take my word for it. Come and find out for yourself.”



Reese’s mouth sagged, his face so comically eager that she nearly laughed out loud.



“Jacquie?” He reached for her then, and when his mouth covered hers, it was with the same openmouthed passion they’d experienced in their twenties. In the later years of their marriage, before he’d moved out of her bedroom, their lovemaking had become staid and controlled. Not now. Reese all but ruined her robe in his eagerness to undress her.



When they stumbled into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, they were giggling like teenagers. Their lovemaking was explosive, primal, thrilling. The only sounds to be heard were their moans and deep satisfied sighs.



After they’d finished, Jacqueline lay cradled in her husband’s arms, her eyes moist as she listened to the solid, even beat of Reese’s heart. There was so much that needed to be said, but in the contentment of the moment, none of it seemed important. What mattered was savoring this time, treasuring each other. If nothing else, Jacqueline would have this one night with her husband to remind her that she was very much alive and every inch a woman.



“I never dreamed,” Reese whispered close to her ear. “I’d given up hope that we’d ever share a bed again. I love you. I’ve always loved you, but I didn’t know how to make things different.”



She sighed and kissed his bare chest. “I’m not giving you up.”



“There’s no one else who wants me.”



Jacqueline froze. “What do you mean?”



He gave a resigned sigh. “We’ll speak of this only once and then never again. Agreed?”



“Agreed.”



“I had an affair ten years ago. Which I realize you knew about. It ended quickly and badly. I felt terrible and I still can’t believe I was so stupid.”



“But every Tuesday night—”



He didn’t let her finish. “I know. I wanted you to think I was still involved. It was stupid and childish, and I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was looking for a reaction from you. Something—anything—that showed me you cared.”



“The night I made dinner for you and the phone rang and you left….”



“I know what you thought, but you were wrong. It was business. We’d blown a transformer. I swear to you there wasn’t another woman that night or any other night in a very long time.”



“All these years…” She had trouble taking it in.



“Once I started this, I didn’t know how to stop.”



“We’ve both been such fools.” Jacqueline wrapped her arms around his neck and wondered how she’d ever survived outside her husband’s embrace. All this time, the only thing that had stood between them was pride.



“I don’t know what came over you tonight, but I thank God for it,” Reese said.



“You can thank Tammie Lee’s Aunt Frieda.”



“Who?”



“It doesn’t matter.” She pressed her head against his shoulder and smiled. Every day, she found more reasons to be grateful to her daughter-in-law. Reese had been right about that. She finally did have her daughter, and even if Tammie Lee happened to speak with a southern drawl, she was as precious to her as any daughter could be to a mother.



CHAPTER 46



ALIX TOWNSEND



A lix woke to the sound of smothered groans. Leaning up on one elbow, she stared into the darkness, listening intently. Oddly enough, the muffled agony seemed to be coming from the living room. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she noticed something else out of the ordinary. Laurel’s bed, which was across the room from her own, was empty.



Her roommate had been a real jerk lately. After that one brief episode of friendliness, Laurel had started ignoring her again. They were barely speaking but that was Laurel’s doing, not Alix’s. She’d done her best, tried to maintain a civil relationship. If Laurel said anything to her at all, it was rude or sarcastic.



Alix hadn’t had any news lately about the fate of the apartment complex, but she suspected they’d be losing their place soon. Well, Alix had a plan. Once she had the means, she’d ditch her so-called friend and find a new roommate. The bogus drug bust last spring had been because of Laurel’s stash, not hers. Nevertheless, Alix had paid the price.



In the beginning, Laurel had been apologetic and supportive, looking for ways to make it up to her. That had all changed. Most days she avoided Alix and even when she was around, all she did was sit in front of the television and eat. She hadn’t even gone to her job at the drycleaner’s all week.



Lying down again, Alix tugged the sheet up over her shoulders and closed her eyes, determined to go back to sleep. If Laurel was sick, then it was from all the ice cream she’d been eating. She must’ve gained fifty pounds in the last six months. None of her jeans zipped up and she looked grotesquely fat. Their relationship hadn’t been helped by Laurel making a play for Jordan, either. Alix trusted Jordan, but she wasn’t so sure about Laurel. She’d obviously gone to him hoping for sympathy—and who knew what else?



Alix never did learn what that was all about. Jordan hadn’t volunteered and she hadn’t asked. When she’d confronted Laurel, her roommate told her to mind her own freakin’ business.



Alix was determined to blot out the muffled sounds coming from the other room. If Laurel needed her, then she could come and get her. Alix wasn’t about to offer her help.



Just when Alix was drifting back to sleep, she heard a loud moan, as if Laurel was in horrible pain. Although she wasn’t happy about it, Alix tossed aside her sheet and climbed out of bed.



The living room was dark, and it took her a minute to locate Laurel, who was prone on the sofa with her head braced against the arm. Her knees were bent and she’d draped a blanket over her legs.



“What’s wrong?” Alix asked. She wanted it understood that she was none too pleased about having her sleep disturbed.