Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ her fault nor his; it was an explosion of emotion and frustration. Doug had stormed out of the house and didn’t return until after midnight. Carol was relieved he hadn’t been driving, because she smelled alcohol on his breath when he returned.

      They made up the next morning, just as she’d known they would, and Doug had left for work after downing two cups of coffee and refusing breakfast. Now they had to wait, three weeks to be sure of the pregnancy and three months to be confident about it. By then their patience would be even more frayed.

      Ten days after the procedure, Lydia phoned. This was the first time she’d called Carol at home and it was good to hear a friendly voice.

      “I haven’t heard from you and was wondering how you’re doing,” Lydia said.

      “Great.” The high-pitched burst of enthusiasm betrayed her.

      “I mean, how are you really feeling?” Lydia murmured.

      “Not so great,” Carol admitted. “Oh, Lydia, this is hard. Right now, it’s a waiting game, and both Doug and I are so tense.”

      “Let me take you to lunch, and we’ll talk.”

      Lunch out sounded divine, but she knew Lydia had responsibilities. “What about the shop?”

      “I’ve already talked to Mom, and she’s going to come here for a couple of hours. Would you like to meet on the waterfront? It’s such a perfect day for it.”

      Carol agreed. The sun was out and Puget Sound was an intense sapphire blue. Nothing would please her more than to get away from the condo for a few hours.

      They chose a restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall place that specialized in fish and chips, scallops and shrimp dishes. By the time Carol arrived, Lydia had already obtained a table on the patio. The breeze off the water had the briny scent of sea air. Seagulls shrieked in their usual exuberant way. The white-topped peaks of the Olympics glowed in the distance and a Washington State ferry was docked at the pier close by. It was everything Carol loved about living in the Pacific Northwest.

      “This is an unexpected surprise,” Carol told her as she took the chair across from Lydia.

      “It’s just so beautiful I couldn’t bear to stay inside a minute longer. My mother’s been after me to take some time for myself, and today I decided she was right.”

      “Does she knit?”

      “Only a little—enough to get by. She loves the idea of standing in for me. It gives her an emotional boost to think she’s helping, and she is.”

      “Thank her for me.”

      Lydia smiled. “Actually, I’m grateful for the break, too. I needed it. I’m glad you could join me at the last minute.”

      Carol had only known Lydia a short while, but she considered the other woman her friend. Not since her college days had she had time to invest in friendships. Lydia had mentioned her eagerness to make new friends, too; they’d arrived at a similar point in their lives but for entirely different reasons. They’d talked frequently and Lydia encouraged Carol’s growing love for knitting. It was easy to like Lydia; she was so gentle, so quiet and unassuming. Carol had never once heard Lydia raise her voice or lose her patience. Only when she talked about knitting and yarn did she become animated or excited. Carol was impressed by Lydia’s calm manner when she dealt with the outbursts between Alix and Jacqueline. It couldn’t be easy having them both in the same class. More than once Carol had to bite her tongue to keep from asking if their behavior wasn’t a little juvenile.

      Seated under the shade of the overhead umbrella, Carol glanced at the menu. She decided on seafood fettuccini, a longtime favorite. She almost never ordered it in a restaurant because no recipe had ever matched the one her mother had given her. While she hadn’t done much cooking until recently, she made a delectable olive-oil-based seafood spaghetti that Doug always raved about.

      They discussed knitting and friendship, shared stories of growing up and talked about books they’d both read. The highlight of their lunch was the story of Alix rescuing Jacqueline from muggers in the back alley.

      Carol decided to stop at the market on her way home to pick up something for dinner. Her appetite had been nonexistent lately, ever since the procedure, and dinners had been thrown together at the last minute with little forethought or effort. If not for Doug, she would have foregone the meal entirely.

      When Carol left the waterfront, she felt a great deal better. Amazing what a little girl-time could do. She bought a small sirloin tip roast at the market and walked back to the condo, feeling refreshed, glorying in the sunshine.

      The moment he arrived home, Doug noticed the difference in her mood. He smiled and kissed her, then went into the bedroom to change clothes. When he reappeared, he had on his Mariners baseball jacket and hat.

      “You forgot, didn’t you?” he said when he saw the look on her face. “Bill and I have tickets for the game.”

      “Of course.” She shrugged off her disappointment. Her afternoon with Lydia had done her a world of good and she wouldn’t begrudge her husband a night with his longtime college friend.

      Minutes later, he was out the door. It was the first time all week she’d cooked a decent meal, and Doug wouldn’t be home to enjoy it. Life seemed to be full of such little ironies.

      She wasn’t feeling sorry for herself, not really, but her elated mood had definitely sagged by the time her brother phoned. They hadn’t talked since his visit the month before.

      “Can I come over?” he asked, sounding depressed.

      “Of course, but it’s just me. Doug’s at the Mariners’ game with Bill.”

      Rick’s sigh was audible. “Actually, that’s probably better.”

      This was a surprising comment. “What’s up?”

      “I’ll tell you when I get there.”

      Her brother showed up less than half an hour later. Carol hadn’t ever seen him look this bad—unshaven, with dark circles under his eyes. He collapsed into a chair and when she offered him a beer, he muttered, “Do you have anything stronger?”

      “Sorry,” she said. “Just wine.”

      “I’ll have a beer, then.” He leaned forward and braced his elbow on his knees, letting his forearms dangle.

      “Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?” she asked as she handed him a cold beer.

      Rick twisted off the cap and took a deep swig. “Was I born stupid or did I recently acquire this personality trait?”

      “The answer depends on your problem,” she said, sitting across from him. Infuriating though Rick could be, it was difficult to stay angry with him for long. She supposed his easygoing personality was as much of a hindrance as it was an asset. Perhaps everything had come too easily for him.

      “Lisa’s pregnant,” he said.

      Carol stared at him blankly. “Lisa? Lisa who?”

      He rubbed his eyes. “A flight attendant I’ve seen a few times.”

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