Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ new recipes. Unexpectedly, that made her feel better, not worse, as if she’d recovered a small part of the woman she used to be.

      She tried her smoked salmon. Good, but she wouldn’t have served it with the curried mayonnaise. Too many strong flavors.

      Time to wade back into the conversational waters. “Have you started dating again?” she asked.

      He shook his head. “What about you?”

      Smiling, she pointed to him. “You’re my first dinner date in twenty-two years.”

      “You’re my first date in seven.”

      “Is that cause for celebration?”

      Paul chuckled. “I think it is.” With that he gestured to the waiter and they ordered a second glass of wine.

      Paul might not be the most attractive man she’d ever met, especially compared to Grant, but Bethanne was struck by how genuine he was, how generous and caring. Even though he was in as much pain as she was, he’d told her he was sorry that his wife had been the one to break up her family.

      “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, as they walked out of the restaurant.

      Bethanne had only one burning need. A job. “Do you know anyone who’d be willing to hire me?”

      “For what?”

      She sighed. “At this point, I’d do just about anything.”

      “Do you have computer skills?”

      “Well …” The truth was, she didn’t. Bethanne knew her way around the Internet, but mostly because her kids had shown her. She could manage basic word processing programs, but anything beyond that and she was at a loss.

      “Maybe you should get some training,” Paul suggested.

      He was right, but she hated the thought of it. This adjustment, trying to find employment after so many years out of the job market, was almost as difficult as the divorce.

      Paul insisted on walking her to where she’d parked her car. “I had a good time tonight, Bethanne, thank you.”

      “Thank you.” They exchanged handshakes. “If you ever need someone to talk to, give me a call.”

      He perked up. “You wouldn’t mind?”

      “Not in the least.”

      Bethanne listened to the radio on the drive home. It was almost ten by the time she pulled into the driveway. She hadn’t even made it to the house before the front door was thrown open and her children stood in the entrance glaring at her.

      “Just exactly where were you?” Annie demanded.

      “We were worried sick,” Andrew said.

      Bethanne stared back at them in complete shock. “I beg your pardon? Annie, I told you I was seeing an old friend.”

      “But you didn’t say you were going to be this late!” Annie cried in disgust.

      “We talked and … and the time flew,” Bethanne answered before she thought better of it.

      “I can’t believe you’d do this,” Andrew muttered.

      “What?”

      “After everything you’ve said to us about knowing where we are and who we’re with.” Andrew shook his head.

      “This is totally bogus,” Annie muttered.

      “Could you please let me in?” As they moved aside, she said, “I left you a note.”

      “I know, but you didn’t give us the guy’s name or tell us where you went. I’m not sure about this, Mom,” Andrew tried to explain. “It just doesn’t seem right that my mother’s the one on a date.”

      “It shouldn’t be such a big deal,” Annie said, speaking more thoughtfully now. “But it doesn’t feel right.”

      “It doesn’t for me either,” Bethanne agreed. “However, this is my new reality.” For the first time, she could say those hated words without flinching.

      “So we should get used to it?” Andrew asked.

      Bethanne nodded. Her children had nothing to worry about; she was their rock, their security. Their mother. That wouldn’t change no matter what their father did.

      13

      CHAPTER

       COURTNEY PULANSKI

      If Courtney could trust her grandmother’s antique scale, it showed that she’d lost four pounds. Five if she balanced on one foot and stared straight down at the dial. This was the first time in months that she’d managed to stay on any formal eating program. She felt good, really good.

      The exercising helped, she was sure of it. Her sister had e-mailed and suggested a low-carb diet, but Courtney preferred to make up one of her own. It was a very simple concept: she didn’t eat anything that started with the letter P. That included pasta, peanut butter, pizza, popcorn and just about everything else she’d craved in the last four years.

      She routinely heard from Julianna, who e-mailed her from Alaska every day. Julianna’s stories about life at the summer lodge—her coworkers, the guests, the wildlife—were endlessly entertaining. Jason sent her encouraging messages once or twice a week, and Courtney was grateful for them. She wrote both Jason and Julianna long e-mails in exchange. She hadn’t mentioned her P diet but she boasted proudly, at least to her sister, about each pound lost.

      Her father was in regular contact, too. This job in Brazil demanded a lot of his time, but she could tell he was trying hard to be there for her. She loved him for it. Now that she’d finished feeling sorry for herself, she realized how difficult this situation was for him. He desperately missed his children and talked constantly about when he’d return home. This year was destined to be the longest of all their lives.

      The only problem with living in Seattle was that Courtney still hadn’t met anyone her age. After that one disaster, when she’d run into all those sleek-bodied girls from the swim team, she’d avoided the pool on Mondays and Wednesdays—which was when the team practiced.

      She swam laps three mornings a week and biked on the other days. She’d even biked to her last knitting class, although her grandmother was convinced it wasn’t safe to ride a bicycle in Seattle traffic. It hadn’t been easy to go the full three miles, and she’d felt justified in congratulating herself. Riding a bike up the steep Seattle hills was a challenge. She figured Lance Armstrong would’ve been out of breath, too. At one point she’d had to stop, climb off her bike and walk when it became too much for her. Her new goal was to make it all the way up Capitol Hill without stopping. That would take practice, but she knew she’d eventually manage it.

      “Are you going out again?” her grandmother asked when Courtney bounced down the stairs. She had on her shorts and T-shirt and held her helmet by the straps.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ