Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ hear the knock at the shop door until the pounding grew louder. Leaping out of my chair, I hurried into the main part of the store; normally I’d simply explain that we were closed, but right now I didn’t feel I could turn down a single sale.

      However, it wasn’t a customer. Brad stood at the door with his hands cupped around his face, peering inside. As soon as he saw he’d gotten my attention, he backed away from the glass.

      The last time we’d talked had been almost a month ago. I’d had brief conversations with Cody but they seemed as painful for him as they were for me. When I’d talked to Cody at the end of August, his mother must have been standing close by, because he sounded tentative and cautious, almost as though he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He hadn’t called me since.

      Unlocking the door, I sighed. I didn’t have the physical energy or emotional resources to talk to Brad, so I decided not to allow him inside. Instead, I stood in the opening and waited.

      “Hi,” I said, hoping I’d found the right tone to convey my feelings.

      “Hi,” Brad said, hands in his uniform pockets. “Hadn’t seen you at the store in a while.”

      I could’ve stated the obvious and told him I hadn’t been at the shop more than an hour or so each day, but that seemed unnecessary. I didn’t respond.

      “Margaret said you found a place for your mom?”

      He made it a question. I answered as if it was. “We’re planning to move her next week.” If I could finish all the paperwork, arrange for all the necessary medical records, finalize the sale of Mom’s house and complete my dealings with her lawyer and her bank.

      “How are you holding up?” he asked.

      “I’m okay.” I didn’t want Brad’s sympathy; his concern would be my undoing. I was tempted to ask about Janice, but didn’t. If they were getting along well, I didn’t want to hear it. At the same time, I didn’t want to know if their reconciliation wasn’t working out. Just then, at the end of a long day in an emotionally crowded week, I couldn’t deal with another crisis. “How’s Cody?” It hurt my heart to ask because I missed him so much—missed our talks, missed hearing about his dog and the tricks he’d taught Chase. Difficult though our conversations often were, I needed them. I loved that child.

      “He’s doing great,” he said quickly, which I suppose was Brad’s way of informing me that his happy little family was flourishing.

      “Give him my love, would you?”

      “Of course. I’ve been worried about you,” he added as he stared down at the sidewalk.

      “Worried about me?” I asked, forcing surprise into my voice. “Whatever for?”

      He looked up, wearing a crooked half smile. “I know you, Lydia. When you’re under stress, it shows.”

      “How would you know? You haven’t seen me in weeks.”

      “I have seen you—I just haven’t made a point of seeking you out. You’re tired and—”

      “Yes,” I said, cutting him off. I didn’t need Brad Goetz to tell me what I already knew.

      “Let me take you out for a drink,” he suggested.

      I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

      “I know you’re dating someone else now, but this is just as friends.”

      Actually, I could hardly believe Margaret hadn’t enlightened Brad, hadn’t told him I’d lied about meeting someone new. I’d done that out of pride, and I regretted it.

      “Why not?”

      “I have one hard and fast rule when it comes to men,” I said, smiling as I spoke. “I avoid the married ones.”

      “Janice and I are divorced.”

      “Are you or are you not reconciling?” I snapped. Damn it, he couldn’t have it both ways.

      He didn’t answer at first, then muttered, “Janice and I are talking.”

      “In that case, having a drink with me would be inappropriate. I appreciate the offer, Brad, but … I don’t think so.”

      Brad said goodbye rather abruptly and left. I stood in the doorway, my arms crossed, and watched him walk away, feeling empty and alone. I closed and locked the door again, then returned slowly to my office.

      When someone tapped on the door ten minutes later, I half suspected Brad had come back. I turned and retraced my steps to peer through the glass.

      It wasn’t Brad. Instead, Alix Townsend stood on the other side. She held a plate of chocolate éclairs, which guaranteed I’d open the door.

      “Hi,” she greeted me cheerfully as I let her in.

      I’d dropped in at the charity knitting session that afternoon and she hadn’t been there, so I’d guessed she was working at the café. Her classes were usually in the morning.

      “I saw you and Brad talking just now. You don’t have to tell me what happened unless you want to—but I thought these might help.”

      I hid a smile. Brad might have succeeded in getting past my threshold if he’d brought chocolate.

      “I don’t have any worries a chocolate éclair won’t cure,” I said, leading the way to the office. “I’ve got coffee on, if you’re interested.”

      “I’d love a cup.” Alix followed me into my tiny office, where she settled on a corner of my desk, moving papers aside and making herself at home. I didn’t mind. That was Alix—why sit on a chair if there was a desk? Why walk if you could run? I loved her exuberance, her loyalty and her frequently unconventional behavior.

      I poured her a mug and felt slightly guilty because it looked so dark. I hoped it wasn’t bitter.

      “So Brad came to see you,” she said, unable to hide her curiosity, after all.

      In retrospect, my attitude toward him seemed coldhearted. Unkind. Part of me wanted to call him back, to begin the conversation all over again. I wouldn’t, though. Leaving things as they were was for the best. “Lydia?” Alix asked. She reached out to touch me.

      I nodded. “Yes, he did.”

      “Anything happening?” Although she’d brought the éclairs for me, Alix scooped one off the plate and took a bite. When the custard filling oozed out from the sides, she grabbed a tissue from the box on my desk.

      “Nothing really. How about with you and Jordan?”

      Alix raised her eyebrows. “You’re changing the subject.” She picked up the plate and offered me an éclair.

      I didn’t need a second invitation. “I know. I don’t want to talk about Brad, that’s all.”

      “He doesn’t want to talk about you, either,” Alix informed me. “He makes a delivery to the café every now and then, and he’s his old chatty self until I mention СКАЧАТЬ