Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

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      “Is this the young man you mentioned?” Grams asked, lowering her voice as if Andrew couldn’t hear the question. “The one you’re knitting the socks for?”

      Courtney wished she could snap her fingers and vanish, like the witch on that old TV series Grams sometimes watched. Her face felt hot and she glared at her grandmother.

      “She knit a lovely pair for her dad,” her grandmother was saying. “Those were navy blue, but these are green and—” She looked quizzically at Courtney. “Oh, dear, was that supposed to be a surprise?” Getting up with uncharacteristic agility, Grams scurried to the kitchen.

      Andrew stood, his eyes holding hers. “You’re knitting me socks?”

      Courtney nodded. “I’m just finishing up the gusset on the second one, but it’s nearly done.”

      “That’s the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me. It’s really … sweet.”

      Sweet. He thought of her as sweet. That was the last thing Courtney wanted.

      38

      CHAPTER

       ELISE BEAUMONT

      Bethanne’s invitation to visit was a welcome reprieve in the middle of Elise’s week. Bethanne had asked if she’d help check her budget. Elise was no expert, but she was willing to do what she could. She was also grateful for an excuse to get out of the house.

      Neither Aurora nor David ever mentioned Maverick in her presence. Unfortunately her grandsons, oblivious to the tension between their estranged grandparents, dragged his name into practically every conversation. Maverick was playing in some poker game in the Carry Bean, as the boys called it. She wished him well, but she couldn’t be part of his life. Their second attempt at being a couple was as much of a failure as the first. No, it was over for good.

      The bus dropped her off a block from Bethanne’s. She liked the other woman and found that they had more in common than anyone might expect. As divorced mothers, they’d been left to deal with the children and the house and everything else. Well, no need to dwell on that old history now, she decided.

      The Hamlins’ neighborhood was a busy one, and the house itself was charming. Elise walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, admiring the garden as she did. She’d just leaned over to take a closer look at a huge, coppery chrysanthemum when a smiling Bethanne opened the door. A pot of tea and a plate of brownies waited on the kitchen table.

      “Thank you for doing this,” Bethanne said, handing over a spiral notebook. “I asked you because this whole party business was your idea and … well, because you seem so clear-headed and sensible to me.” She sighed. “I’ve gone over these figures a dozen times and after a while, everything starts to blur.”

      “I know what you mean.”

      Bethanne had listed her monthly expenses in one column and the total alimony and child support she received from Grant in another. On a separate page, she’d set out the anticipated income from the parties she’d booked, including the deposits already paid, and the costs for each.

      Elise looked over all the lists and glanced up to see Bethanne watching her. “You need to charge more for your parties,” she said decisively. Before Bethanne could protest, she asked, “What’s your hourly wage?”

      “I—I don’t know. I just add twenty percent to the cost of each party and that’s what I charge.”

      Elise shook her head. “That’s not near enough. Don’t forget, you’re putting your creative genius behind each event.”

      “Creative genius,” Bethanne repeated. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

      “It’s true.” Elise refused to diminish Bethanne’s talent. “You’re offering something unique. No party is like any other. Each one’s exclusively designed around the child’s interests. But if you feel you might be pricing yourself out of a job …”

      “I do,” she murmured. “People can’t afford to pay me an outrageous fee on top of all their other expenses.”

      “Then standardize the parties. Make up a list of your favorites, the ones you’ve already created, and offer those when people call to inquire. Establish a price for each one, and give them the option of a standard party or a customized one.”

      Bethanne’s eyes lit up. “Of course … of course. I should’ve thought of that.” She smiled. “I can buy supplies in bulk and save money that way, too. Not to mention time.”

      “You might also contract with a local bakery, for the cakes.”

      They looked at each other and both spoke at the same moment. “Alix.”

      “Alix,” Elise repeated, “would be perfect. Plus she’d be bringing business into the French Café and that’s a feather in her cap.”

      “Fabulous.” Bethanne jumped up and gave Elise an impulsive hug. “Thank you, thank you, Elise. You’re the real genius here.”

      Elise smiled with pleasure. Before she left, she reminded Bethanne to pay herself better. “Start with twenty dollars an hour,” she said. “And your hours should include your preparation time, plus cleanup and driving.”

      Bethanne promised she would.

      Later, on the bus ride home, Elise felt the satisfaction of having helped a friend. But it wasn’t a one-way street by any means; she’d learned from Bethanne too. The younger woman’s lack of bitterness and anger toward Grant impressed her. When Elise had commented on her calm acceptance, Bethanne said she considered it a gift that had come to her because of the divorce.

      In Elise’s view, divorce didn’t mean anything except gut-wrenching emotional agony. But Bethanne had found nuggets of wisdom buried in the pain and suffering Grant’s betrayal had brought into her life.

      When Elise entered the house, she thought no one was home. Then she heard the sound of the television. Since it was a bright, sunny afternoon, she couldn’t imagine why the entire family would be staring at the TV.

      “What’s going on?” she asked, as she stood just inside the family room.

      “Shh.” Luke beckoned her in. “Grandpa’s on TV,” he whispered.

      “Mom.” Aurora glanced over her shoulder. “Sit with me. Dad’s playing poker on national TV.”

      “No, thank you.” Elise whirled around so fast, she nearly lost her balance. Television or not, it didn’t matter. Gambling was gambling. There’d be no stopping Maverick now that he’d made it all the way to national television. He’d live on that high for months to come, thinking he was invincible—that he couldn’t lose.

      “Mom?” A short time later, Aurora tapped gently on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

      “Of course.” Elise was determined to say something about allowing the children to … to admire their grandfather when it was obvious he had a problem.

      “You looked upset when you got home.”

      Elise СКАЧАТЬ