Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

and how delicious they were. Lydia had taken up the subject, raving about the croissants, but those éclairs were her favorite, too, she’d said. She made it sound as if she ate them by the dozen. If so, she hadn’t gained an ounce.

      Courtney had practically starved to death all week and she’d gained weight. It was hard enough to stay on this P diet; not seeing results was a case of adding insult to injury. Or was it the other way around? She could never remember.

      She peered inside the yarn store again and then looked over at the bakery. The pastries weren’t the only thing Lydia had bragged about. She’d made sure everyone knew that a girl from her original knitting class was one of the bakers. Her name was Alix, and she’d made a big deal about how it was spelled with an i instead of an e.

      Alix baked in the morning and waited behind the counter some afternoons. She also attended class at the culinary institute, so she must be good at making those delectable-sounding treats. The five-dollar bill in Courtney’s pocket felt like it was on fire. Éclairs didn’t start with the letter P. Okay, pastry did, but she was willing to overlook that minor detail.

      Driven by her desire to taste something sweet, Courtney walked her bike across the street and parked it against the side of the building. The girl behind the counter didn’t seem the knitting type. Then Courtney read her name tag. Alix with an i. Yup, just like Grams always said, appearances could be deceiving.

      “You’re Alix?” she asked.

      The other girl nodded. “Do I know you?”

      “Probably not. I’m in one of Lydia’s knitting classes.”

      She immediately brightened. “You wouldn’t happen to be Courtney, would you?”

      Surprised, Courtney nodded. “Lydia mentioned me?”

      “Yeah. Do you know what’s going on with her and Brad?”

      Courtney raised her eyes from the glass case, where the chocolate éclairs oozed rich custard and sat on a platter decorated with a paper doily. “Going on?” she repeated.

      “Yeah, since they broke up.”

      “I don’t know any more than you do.”

      “I hope they patch things up.” Alix sounded genuinely concerned.

      “How much for one of the chocolate éclairs?” They weren’t all that big, so perhaps she should order two.

      Alix told her, and Courtney calculated how much it would cost for two, with tax. Plus a Coke, and not the diet variety, either. She was sick of drinking sugar-free soda. If she was going on a sugar high, then she might as well go the whole way. Why cheat herself out of a soda?

      “Lydia said you’ve been losing weight. My hat’s off to you. It’s hard,” Alix said softly.

      Courtney nodded.

      “I make a mean low-fat, sugar-free chocolate latte.”

      Courtney’s mouth was watering for that éclair. “A latte?” She paused to consider her choices and realized she was being offered far more than an incentive to stay on her eating plan. Friendship had no calories, and it was the special on Alix’s menu.

      “I’ll take that latte,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could manage.

      Alix smiled. “Good. I’ll make my best one ever.”

      Courtney sighed with relief. Without Alix’s encouragement she probably would’ve given in and ordered the éclairs and eaten them so fast they’d disappear before she’d even tasted them. Then, they’d reappear on her thighs.

      “Thanks,” she said when Alix handed her the latte. “I appreciate the help.”

      “Anytime. Come back whenever you want. And if you find out anything about Brad and Lydia, let me know, all right?”

      “Will do,” Courtney promised. Her first sip of the latte was divine. This was just as good as Alix had promised. And latte didn’t start with the letter P.

      21

      CHAPTER

      “The act of knitting is a meditation, for the work of the hands compels the mind to rest, and gives free rein to movements of the soul.”

      —Author unknown, contributed by Darlene Hayes, www.handjiveknits.com.

       LYDIA HOFFMAN

      Tuesday morning when Margaret showed up for work, I knew right away that something was wrong. I hoped my sister would tell me. No matter what, though, I was determined not to pry it out of Margaret. Our relationship had been less strained, but I suspect that was primarily because of the situation between Brad and me.

      We’d arrived at an unspoken agreement. I didn’t inquire about Matt’s job search and she didn’t mention Brad. It was an uneasy truce. I knew she was curious and no doubt concerned; I felt the same way about her. I kept quiet about the fact that Brad had phoned me one evening. When his name came up on Caller ID, I didn’t pick up. I couldn’t. It occurred to me later that the call might be from Cody, and in some ways, that would’ve been even more difficult. I hadn’t guessed how much I’d miss him.

      With the passing of time, I’d begun to understand what Brad had meant about giving his son a family. As much as I love Cody, and I do, I had to accept that I’ll never be his mother. Brad loves him, and despite his feelings for me or for that matter Janice, his son had to come first. I could only love and admire him more for the strength of his devotion to Cody.

      When Brad divulged that he was talking to Janice, I was too hurt and angry to appreciate his sacrifice. But I came to realize that this wasn’t about Brad and his ex-wife, it was about Cody. It’d always been about Cody. Brad loves me, yet he was willing to let me go in order to give Cody back his mother.

      Strangely, Brad’s efforts to reconcile with Janice helped me grasp the depth of my own father’s love for me. Dad made sacrifices daily; sacrifices I came to expect because I was so sick and so needy. Not until he died did I appreciate everything my father had been to me.

      I would’ve loved to discuss Brad and Cody with my dad. He was always so wise and loving; he would’ve known just the right thing to say. Even now, I’d give anything to hear his voice again, to feel the comfort of his presence.

      “Looks like we need to order more sock yarn,” Margaret said, breaking into my thoughts.

      “Already?” The self-patterning yarn seemed to go out of the shop almost as fast as it came in.

      My class was going well. I’d wondered if holding it on a Tuesday afternoon was a mistake. It’s the first day of my work week and there always seemed to be a hundred things that required my attention. But I decided it was actually an advantage; the small class size meant I could develop real relationships with all three women, just as I had in my original class.

      During one class, Elise described the awkward situation with her ex-husband. Frankly, I was surprised she’d told us that much. She’d always been so restrained. I can’t tell you how shocked we all were when she revealed that Maverick was a professional gambler. The minute that was out, the conversation became lively indeed. What an interesting combination! A librarian and a gambler. This was the stuff of romance novels—but unfortunately there hadn’t been a happy ending for Elise.

      Bethanne Hamlin had ex-husband problems, too. But she was growing more self-confident every week. We could all see it; I’d say it even showed in her knitting. She was experiencing some difficulties with her teenage daughter, but she’d only touched on that subject briefly. I thought she might be afraid of saying too much because of Courtney, who’d become friends with Annie.

      Speaking of Courtney—we all loved her. What a charming girl and such a typical teenager. She talked about her father a great deal and was as excited to get an e-mail or a letter from him as she would an invitation to the senior prom. I was grateful