Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

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      “I’m afraid I’m confused,” Bethanne said.

      “I don’t blame you. I was confused myself.”

      “So, what does this mean?”

      “It means that this person, who again asked that his identity not be revealed, wants to give you the money.”

      “Give me the money,” she repeated.

      “That’s right.”

      Bethanne leaned forward in her chair. “Let me see if I understand this. Someone I don’t know wants to hand over five thousand dollars cash—to me. What’s the catch?”

      “There is no catch.”

      She still wasn’t sure she could believe this. “You’re positive about that?”

      He nodded. “With the proviso that if the opportunity arises, you will do the same for someone else.”

      “I see—well, I think I do. Sort of.”

      “In other words,” he continued, opening a file. “I have a cashier’s check for you in the amount of five thousand dollars.”

      Her jaw sagged open as the reality set in. She stared at Gary Schroeder, unable to comprehend who would do such a thing. Then it came to her. She knew of only one possible person who’d want to help her like this, and while she couldn’t be sure, she felt she had to ask.

      “I have a friend…. The money doesn’t happen to come from a man by the name of Paul Ormond, does it?”

      Mr. Schroeder shook his head. “As I explained earlier, your benefactor has requested anonymity.”

      “But it isn’t Paul?”

      He smiled kindly. “No.”

      Bethanne tried to think who else her benefactor might be. It didn’t seem at all likely that Grant would do this. She realized he had regrets about the divorce, but if he’d found it in his heart to give her this money, he’d certainly want her to know what he’d done.

      “Grant Hamlin?” she asked, just in case.

      Again the loan officer shook his head. “I can’t tell you any more, but I will let you know this. The man who contacted us is not related to you in any way. I suggest you put your questions about his name out of your mind for now. Invest these funds wisely and validate this person’s faith in you.”

      With the check clutched in her hand, Bethanne nodded and got slowly to her feet. “I will,” she promised. “I most certainly will.”

      She couldn’t guess who had such faith in her ability, but she would take this gift and use it wisely, as the loan officer had advised. And, in keeping with her benefactor’s proviso, she’d pass on his generosity when she had the chance.

      43

      CHAPTER

       COURTNEY PULANSKI

      “Grandma, I don’t understand,” Courtney said, staring at the express mail envelope. It was addressed to her with no indication of the sender’s identity. As soon as she’d seen the contents, she’d forgotten that Grandma had become Grams months ago.

      “What is it?” her grandmother asked, standing next to her in the foyer. The letter had been waiting for Courtney on the stair railing.

      Courtney handed it to her grandmother as she slid her backpack from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

      “It’s a cashier’s check,” Vera Pulanski murmured, sounding as shocked as Courtney.

      “You didn’t do this?” Courtney asked, unable to think of anyone else who might be responsible.

      “Me?” her grandmother exclaimed. “My goodness, child, if I had that kind of money, let me tell you I wouldn’t be spending it on a dress. Let’s see the card again.”

      Courtney reached for the envelope and pulled out the typewritten note. It read: BUY A DRESS AS BEAUTIFUL AS YOU ARE AND HAVE A WONDERFUL TIME AT HOMECOMING. It was signed YOUR FAIRY GODFATHER.

      Vera shook her head hopelessly. “I have no idea. It’s got to be someone who knows you … Could it be your dad?”

      “No, it was sent locally. Dated yesterday—Wednesday. And why would Dad do something like this anonymously?”

      Vera merely shrugged.

      “I’ve got to tell Andrew,” Courtney sank down on the bottom step and picked up the phone. She was so excited she couldn’t dial the number fast enough. Grams, of course, had that old-fashioned rotary phone, black and cumbersome. Annie was the one who answered.

      “Annie!” she cried. “You won’t believe what just happened!”

      “What?”

      “Someone sent me money for Homecoming. It’s a huge sum of money. Huge.”

      “How huge?”

      “Five hundred dollars.”

      Annie released a low whistle. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “I’m not. Is Andrew home?” She wasn’t sure why it seemed so important to tell him about this. She supposed it was so he’d know she planned to do him proud. Since he’d asked her to the Homecoming dance, they’d talked several times a day. Just last night, they’d spent almost two hours on the phone.

      Once word got out at school that Andrew Hamlin had asked her to be his date, she’d attracted a lot of attention. Some of the most popular kids were talking to her now—the very ones who hadn’t seen fit to even acknowledge her a couple of weeks ago. She wasn’t taken in by their interest, which struck her as false and opportunistic. While she was friendly and polite, these were not people she wanted as friends.

      “Sorry,” Annie said, sounding as disappointed as Courtney. “Andrew isn’t back from football practice, but I’ll tell him to phone you the minute he walks in the door.”

      Courtney should’ve realized Andrew would still be at school. “I’m so excited.” She had a dress, but it was a hand-me-down from her sister, who’d mailed it as soon as Courtney told her about the date. Rather frilly, it was a pretty pale-blue, much better suited to Julianna than her.

      “It’s so cool that you’re dating my brother.”

      “We aren’t dating,” Courtney reminded her friend. “We haven’t even gone out on a single date, and there’s nothing to say we will after tomorrow night.”

      “You will,” Annie insisted. “Andrew and I talk, you know.”

      Courtney bit her tongue to keep from questioning her about anything Andrew might’ve said. She knew that wouldn’t be right, despite her curiosity. Maybe she’d have a clearer sense of her future with Andrew after the dance.

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