Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)

Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5) Page 31

“It was years ago….” She paused. “Well, to be honest, it happened shortly after we reunited.” Elise shook her head fondly. “That man was full of crazy ideas.”

“No wonder you loved him so much,” Barbie whispered.

“Oh, I did, I did. I regret all the years we wasted. Maverick wouldn’t let me talk about my regrets, though. He said we had to make up for lost time and we did everything in our power to squeeze thirty years of life into three.” The expression on her face showed both happiness and loss and was almost painful to watch.

Anne Marie’s eyes filled with tears, and she stared down at her binder. “What about you, Lillie?” she asked, wanting to draw attention away from Elise so the older woman could compose herself.

“You first,” Lillie insisted, offering Ellen some dessert. The girl studied the platter carefully and chose a blueberry tart.

Anne Marie smiled, then glanced down at her binder again. The sheet she’d turned to had a picture of the Eiffel Tower. “I want to go to Paris with someone I love.”

“That’s so nice,” Barbie murmured.

Anne Marie didn’t mention that this was one of Robert’s promises. She’d felt the lure of France, of Paris in particular, from her high school days, when she’d taken two years of French. Robert had spun wonderful stories of the adventures they’d have…someday. It was always in the future, always around the corner. Next month. Next season. Next year. And whenever they made tentative plans, his job interfered.

She tried to dismiss the thought. Her life was her own now and if there was happiness to be found, it was up to her to seek it. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, rely on anyone else ever again.

Because she’d loved and supported her husband, Anne Marie had never complained. Now it became clear that she’d lived her entire marriage based on tomorrow—on well-intentioned promises, directed toward the future.

“I believe you talked about that one before,” Elise reminded her. “It must be important to you.”

“It is.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to go alone.”

Ever practical, Elise said, “Okay, it’s not just about seeing Paris. It’s also about falling in love.”

“Yes, that’s true. I want to be in love again.”

“Good.”

“I do, too,” Lillie said quietly. Her gaze drifted down the table to her daughter.

Anne Marie was shocked to see tears glistening in Lillie’s eyes. “I have Twenty Wishes but only one is important,” Lillie said next. “None of the others means a thing without the first.”

“What’s that?” Elise asked. “As if I can’t guess.”

Lillie smiled briefly at Elise’s remark. “I want to fall in love again,” she said, “with a man who’s honorable. A man respected by his peers. A man of principle who values me as a woman…A man who’ll be my friend as well as my lover.” A tear rolled down the side of her face. “I have lived most of my life trying to please others. I don’t think I can do that anymore.”

“Nor should you,” Barbie said. “You deserve to find that man, Mom.”

Lillie’s voice shook. “So do you.”

“I know.”

Then to everyone’s astonishment, Barbie burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Mom, so sorry.”

“I am, too.”

Lillie pushed back her chair and a moment later, mother and daughter were hugging each other, weeping together.

Anne Marie looked at Elise, who shrugged. Once again Ellen tugged at the cuff of her blouse. “Why are they crying?” she asked in a loud whisper, leaning toward Anne Marie.

“I’m not sure.”

“Will they be okay?”

Anne Marie placed her arm around Ellen’s shoulders. “I think so,” she said.

As quickly as Lillie and Barbie had burst into tears, they started to laugh, dabbing their eyes with the linen napkins, smearing their mascara and giggling like teenagers.

Ellen began to giggle, too. Soon Elise joined in. After a while she got up and carried her dinner dishes into the kitchen and set them on the counter.

Anne Marie collected her plates and Ellen’s and did the same thing. This evening had been cathartic for all of them in some way. Except for Ellen, but Anne Marie knew the experience had been valuable for her, too.

Before she left she picked up her binder and as she shut it, her gaze fell on the Paris postcard she’d glued next to the cut-out picture of the Eiffel Tower.

One day she would go to Paris—and she wouldn’t go alone. Because the love of her life would be with her.

Chapter 20

When the official-looking woman in the no-nonsense suit walked into Blossom Street Books, Anne Marie knew she was the same one who’d called earlier in the day. She’d introduced herself as Evelyn Boyle, a social worker from Washington State Child Protective Services. She’d sounded calm, professional and reassuring; otherwise Anne Marie might have been alarmed. She had the paperwork Dolores Falk had given her before the surgery, and Ellen and Anne Marie spoke with Dolores frequently.

She didn’t understand why a social worker was involved now. In a few days, Dolores would be released from the care facility and Ellen would return to her. If the state was concerned about Ellen, it was too little, too late.

“You must be Ms. Boyle,” Anne Marie said as she stepped around the counter. Thankfully Theresa, who worked Friday afternoons, had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“And you must be Anne Marie.” The social worker came forward and thrust out her hand. “Please call me Evelyn.”

Despite the woman’s tranquil demeanor, Anne Marie was nervous.

“Is there someplace private where we could visit?” Evelyn asked.

“Sure.” Anne Marie momentarily left her and walked over to Theresa, who eyed her speculatively.

“Is everything all right?” Theresa whispered.

“It’s fine,” she whispered back. In slightly louder tones, she added, “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

Theresa nodded.

Anne Marie led Evelyn up the narrow stairway to the apartment. Now that Ellen was more comfortable living with Anne Marie, she’d left a pair of rubber boots on the steps. Anne Marie grabbed them on her way up the stairs.

Baxter stood there waiting for her, tail wagging wildly. He cocked his head to one side, as though curious about her unexpected appearance. After she’d paid Baxter the required amount of attention, he sniffed the social worker’s shoes, then returned to his bed in a corner of the kitchen.

Without asking, Anne Marie walked to the stove and put on water for tea. Evelyn pulled out a chair at the table, then set her briefcase on it and withdrew a yellow legal pad.

“How did you know Ellen was staying with me?” Anne Marie asked. She assumed Dolores hadn’t told Social Services, which meant it was either the hospital or someone from Woodrow Wilson Elementary, probably Helen Mayer.

“I received a call from Ellen’s school,” Evelyn said, confirming Anne Marie’s guess as she dug around the bottom of her purse for a pen.

Anne Marie stood with her back to the kitchen counter, hands behind her. “Ellen’s grandmother wrote a statement that gives me full guardianship of Ellen while Dolores is recuperating.” How legally binding that scribbled, almost illegible document was remained uncertain. Considering how desperate the poor woman had been for someone, anyone, to look after Ellen, she would’ve signed the girl’s care over to practically anyone.

“I gather you were originally supposed to have Ellen for only a few days.”

“Yes.” Anne Marie wanted to say more but restrained herself. In instances such as this, the less said the better. “Dolores made me promise Ellen wouldn’t go into a foster home.”

Evelyn Boyle glanced up. “There are many excellent foster homes in this area.”

“I’m sure there are….”

“But in essence, Anne Marie, Ellen is already in one.”

“I’m someone Ellen knows and trusts,” Anne Marie said quickly.

“That’s true. It’s exactly what I mean. You are her foster mother.” Evelyn waited a moment. “I do understand the situation correctly, don’t I? You and Ellen are not related in any way?”

“That’s correct,” she responded. But the question hovered in the air, swirling up doubts and fears.

The teakettle’s whistle offered a welcome respite. Anne Marie concentrated on pouring water into the pot. She covered it with a cozy and set it in the middle of the table to steep while she got two matching cups and saucers.

Her good dishes were packed away in the storage unit, and the apartment cupboard was filled with mismatched place settings. It had never bothered her before, but it did now. Logically she knew that Social Services wouldn’t pull Ellen from her care because her dishes didn’t match. Still, Anne Marie discovered that she didn’t want to take any chances.

She poured two mugs of tea, hating the way her hand trembled.

“I should tell you I stopped by the school before I drove over here.”

Anne Marie couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not. “Did you speak to Ellen?”

“I did,” Evelyn said as she reached for the sugar bowl and added a heaping teaspoon. “She had nothing but wonderful things to say about you. She told me about your visits to her grandmother and how you’ve bought her several pieces of clothing. Have you been to the house recently?”

“Twice,” Anne Marie replied. “Ellen needed some of her stuff, and I told Dolores I’d check on the place for her.”

“Excellent. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

Some of the tension seeped away.

Evelyn raised her cup. “Is it true you taught Ellen to knit?”

“Actually, we sort of taught each other. Ellen’s knitting a scarf for her grandmother and I’ve started a lap robe. The various colors don’t match and Dolores won’t be able to wear one near the other. Mine’s a shade of lavender and Ellen went with a peach and pink combination. It’s really lovely. I mean, who would’ve guessed…well, I suppose that isn’t important.” Anne Marie knew she was rambling and forced herself to stop. And yet, she couldn’t resist bragging about Ellen’s accomplishments.

Pushing back her chair, she hurried into the other room and got Ellen’s scarf, still on the needles. “Look how even her stitches are,” she said, displaying the child’s efforts. “My own aren’t half as neat. Ellen loves to knit and she’s already taught three of her friends. Her teacher was so impressed she thought it might be a good idea for the whole class to learn.”

Evelyn nodded approvingly. “Ellen’s teacher mentioned that to me. She said knitting will help the children with math concepts and learning patience. It’ll also give them a sense of achievement. I think it’s a terrific idea.”

“Really?” Anne Marie couldn’t hold back a smile.