Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

you. No, I’m here to help.”

      Again Margaret had a suspicious look. “Help me do what? Pack up our belongings?”

      I decided it was pointless to discuss this when I was sitting with a cashier’s check in my purse. I opened my handbag and handed it to Margaret.

      My sister took the check, read it, then frowned across the table at me. “Where did you get this money?” she demanded. “You went to Mom, didn’t you?”

      “No,” I said. One thing my sister had in abundance was pride. She’d absolutely insisted Mom not know about this. I’d kept my promise and hadn’t breathed a word to our mother.

      “I got a bank loan,” I said, unable to squelch my glee. “Think of it, Margaret. This is a huge step forward for me. A bank was willing to lend me money.” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. “That says something, doesn’t it? They seem to think I’m a good risk.”

      My sister held the check with both hands as if she were afraid to release it. “What did you tell the bank?”

      “They didn’t ask too many questions.” A slight exaggeration. I’d been drilled by one officer and then another, and I’d filled out as many forms as if I were being admitted to the hospital.

      “You used the shop as collateral?”

      I nodded. “It’s all I have.” That was true. My entire future, all I have and all I ever hope to have, is tied up in my yarn store.

      Margaret’s eyes filled with tears and she tried twice before she was able to speak. “I can’t let you do this.”

      “Too late. It’s already done.” Knowing Margaret, I’d expected an argument. That was one reason I’d had the cashier’s check made out in her name. “You’re going to take that check, Margaret,” I said using my sternest voice, “and give it to the mortgage company first thing tomorrow.”

      “I … I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can pay you back,” she muttered.

      I should have explained this earlier. “It isn’t a loan.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I’m giving you the money.”

      Stunned at first, Margaret said nothing, then shook her head. “I—I don’t know what to say.”

      “I mean it. The money is a gift.” I’d thought very carefully about this. If I made the ten thousand dollars a loan, it would always come between us. My relationship with my sister was too important to risk problems over money. As far as I was concerned, this was the best way to handle it.

      “I’m paying you back every cent,” my sister said, still on the verge of tears.

      “Margaret,” I said, stretching my arm across the table to take her hand. “I repeat—the money is a gift.”

      “One I fully intend on repaying with interest once Matt’s back on the job.”

      I could see that arguing with her was pointless. “Do whatever you feel you have to, but this isn’t a debt or a loan or anything. It’s a … a gift of love, from me to you. One day, who knows, I might need your help. I have in the past.” Maybe not financial support, but emotional. “Don’t you remember last year when I had that cancer scare? You were with me every single day. I couldn’t have made it through that time without you. Now it’s my turn.”

      Big tears finally spilled down her face and she struggled to speak. “Thank you,” she managed in a hoarse croak.

      I finished my iced tea and went home with a good feeling, grateful for the opportunity to help my sister. Although my store is officially closed on Mondays, I’m almost always there. I use Mondays to clear off my desk, process paperwork, place orders and get caught up on business.

      Whiskers greeted me as I came into the shop, weaving between my legs and making a general nuisance of himself. My cat objects to being alone for long periods. I’d been away for a good part of the morning, and Whiskers wasn’t happy with me. I crouched down and petted him, running my hand along his fur from ears to tail. He purred his appreciation as I murmured endearments.

      That was when I saw the business-size envelope on the floor, some distance from the mail slot. Someone had apparently slipped a letter under my door. I couldn’t imagine who or why. I straightened and walked over to pick it up.

      Almost immediately I recognized Cody’s printing. LYDIA was penciled across the front, with the Y and D almost double the size of the other letters.

      Heart pounding, I tore open the note. It was a simple message. I MISS YOU. CAN I SEE YOU SOME TIME? Without meaning to, I crumpled the paper in my hands. Since my last meeting with Brad, when he’d announced that he was going back to Janice, I hadn’t said a word to him. Not a single word. He’d come into the shop any number of times on business, but Margaret had always been there to run interference.

      I doubted Brad knew anything about this note. He’d abided by my wishes and not contacted me. I suspected even more strongly that the one time Brad’s name had come up on my Caller ID, it hadn’t been Brad at all, but his son. Cody hadn’t phoned since, probably on strict orders from his father.

      As I looked out the window, I noticed the UPS truck parked across the street. He wasn’t inside. Before I could change my mind or reconsider the wisdom of what I was about to do, I unlocked the door and walked outside to see him. I wasn’t sure where he was making his delivery, but I knew that sooner or later he’d reappear.

      I surveyed the neighborhood and was about to cross the street when he stepped out of the floral shop next door to me.

      “Brad,” I said, stopping him. “Could we talk for just a moment?” I made an effort to sound unaffected.

      He seemed surprised, but nodded. “Sure.”

      There were many things I wanted to say. I longed to tell him that I understood why he’d decided to try again with Janice. And—more than that—how much I loved him and Cody, how desperately I missed them both. But I didn’t. “I got a note from Cody.”

      “What? When?” He sounded shocked, distressed—and hopeful—all at once.

      “I found it this morning.” I looked down for fear of what he’d read in my eyes. “He wanted to know if he could talk to me sometime.”

      “He misses you,” Brad murmured.

      “I miss him, too.” And I missed Cody’s father, but I didn’t mention that. “I know this is hard on him and I … I don’t want to confuse Cody or upset Janice, so if you think it’s best if I don’t call him, I’ll understand.”

      Brad’s eyes held mine. “I appreciate that.”

      My heart felt like it was about to break. “You don’t want me to talk to Cody?” My disappointment obviously showed, because Brad quickly shook his head.

      “If Cody wants to talk to you and you’re willing, then I can’t see that it would do any harm.”

      “Thank you,” I whispered, overwhelmed and grateful. “Please recognize that I want Cody to have his family intact. When you first came to me, I was angry and hurt, but I’m over that now—over you.” This seemed to be my day for exaggeration. I was far from over Brad, but I had to pretend otherwise.

      He hesitated, as if he didn’t know what to say.

      “I’m dating again and … well, the two of us ignoring each other like this is silly.” The dating part was an outright lie. I was nowhere near ready for a new relationship.

      “Anyone I know?” Brad asked.

      I shook my head, unwilling to lie further. I’m not very good at it—and it’s not really a skill I hope to develop. I knew that if he questioned Margaret she’d cover for me, but I doubted he’d approach her; she’d been