Blossom Street (Books 1-10). Debbie Macomber

should be. Bethanne told me this was all your idea.”

      Elise blushed, and wanting to deflect the attention, said, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

      “What are we having?” Luke asked suspiciously. He was the finicky eater in the family.

      Maverick peered into the oven and turned to face his grandson. “It looks like worms and blood to me.”

      “Maverick Beaumont!” Elise cried, horrified he’d say such a thing.

      Luke’s eyes widened with delight as he raced into the other room to share the news with his brother.

      “Better known as spaghetti pie,” Maverick informed his daughter.

      “Oh.”

      Elise smiled and admired Maverick for being so clever.

      “I’ll set the table,” he offered.

      “It’s early yet,” Aurora said. “Why don’t you and Mom collect a bouquet of flowers from the backyard and I’ll use them as a centerpiece. My roses are beautiful this summer.”

      Any other time, Elise would’ve objected and either given the task to Maverick or insisted on cutting the flowers herself. She should have then, but she didn’t.

      Together they went into the backyard, where Aurora’s roses bloomed against the high wooden fence. For their first anniversary David had given her an antique rosebush and year after year it had flourished. Now, on this July afternoon, the fragrance of roses perfumed the air.

      Elise inhaled deeply. “I’ll get the—”

      Maverick stopped her by taking her hand and entwining his fingers with hers. “Let’s just stroll around the yard for a few minutes. Would that be all right?”

      “Yes,” she said, barely recognizing her own voice. “That would be fine.”

      But it was more than fine.

      23

      CHAPTER

       BETHANNE HAMLIN

      “The thing is,” Bethanne said excitedly, reaching for another tortilla chip, “Grant was right.”

      Paul frowned. “Right about what?”

      “About how I should find a way to support myself. He won’t be financially responsible for me much longer, as he’s frequently pointed out. A couple of months ago, he told me to use my God-given talents to find a job. He was talking about childcare and so on, and he meant it sarcastically. At the time I was so furious with him I couldn’t see straight, but you know what? He was right.”

      Paul grinned, and once again Bethanne was struck by the fact that while he wasn’t a handsome man, he was an appealing one, easy to talk to and be around. They’d met for dinner after her first major birthday party, for Elise’s grandson. Because there’d been so little time, she’d had to arrange the party quickly, but everything had fallen nicely into place. The little boys had loved the dinosaur egg hunt, not to mention games like “pin the tail on the dinosaur,” which she’d created herself with Annie’s help.

      “Did I mention I got three new bookings from Luke’s party? I’m also going to do one—a really elaborate one—for a lady I met at the yarn store. They all want ‘my special touch’ for their kids’ parties,” she said. She dipped her chip in the thick salsa before bringing it to her mouth. The most thrilling part of all this was that with her clients’ deposits, she had enough money for Andrew to attend football camp. She’d nearly burst with pride when she handed it over to him.

      “I believe you did say something about upcoming parties.” Paul raised a salsa-laden chip.

      “More than once?” She had the feeling she’d probably repeated the same information a dozen times, but she couldn’t help it. This was the most wonderful thing to happen to her in … years.

      “As the kids got older, Grant used to think all the fuss I made over birthday parties was a waste of money,” she explained. “Who would’ve guessed his wife would make a career of it.” She stopped herself. “Ex-wife,” she corrected. She sighed. “Will I ever get used to saying that?”

      “I don’t know. I haven’t yet.”

      She refused to let that one slip destroy her mood. “I was really glad you phoned.”

      “I wanted to see how everything went with the party.”

      “I’m so happy and excited, and this … this is just great. I love Mexican food.”

      “Me, too.” He reached for his margarita and licked the salt from the edge of his glass before taking a sip.

      The sight of his tongue unnerved her. Bethanne immediately looked away, then chided herself for being silly. But perhaps it was a natural reaction. It’d been so long since she’d made love, she could hardly even remember.

      “Do you miss …” She hesitated to say it aloud, so she leaned toward him and whispered. “Sex?”

      “Sex.” Paul’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”

      They both laughed as if it was the funniest thing they’d heard in ages.

      “Really,” she pressed. “I want to know.”

      He nodded. “Big time. What about you?”

      She nodded, too. She couldn’t ask that question of anyone else, and it made her appreciate their friendship even more. They felt safe with each other; safe in speaking honestly about their anger and pain. There was something healing in that kind of openness.

      “How are things with Annie and Andrew?” he asked, deftly changing the subject.

      Bethanne was on her second margarita, which she knew had loosened her inhibitions, probably past the point of decorum. “I’ve had some long conversations with Annie since I learned she put sugar in Tiffany’s gas tank.” At first Annie had tried to deny it, but when she broke down and admitted what she’d done, they’d clung to each other, Bethanne’s heart breaking for her daughter.

      Annie had agreed to see the therapist, and after two visits, felt she had a better perspective on the family’s situation and her own feelings. There’d been several tearful discussions between mother and daughter. Annie seemed better now, more like her old self, and Bethanne sensed that her daughter could move forward, with or without her father.

      “Has Grant had a chance to talk to Annie?” Paul asked.

      Bethanne had mentioned his most recent visit, although she’d left out his inquiry about her relationship with Paul.

      “He phoned the house.” Bethanne shrugged. “I don’t know what he said, but Annie was on and off the phone in about two minutes, so it couldn’t have been much of a conversation.”

      “From what I understand, the insurance paid for the damage to Tiffany’s engine,” Paul told her.

      “Did she contact you?” Bethanne asked. Paul rarely mentioned his ex-wife.

      “No, but our agent told me about it. It’s a good thing Tiff continued the coverage for vandalism.”

      Bethanne nodded. She wouldn’t put it past Tiffany to have Annie arrested; even worse, she wasn’t sure Grant would stand up for their daughter. Yes, Annie had been wrong and she needed to accept the consequences of her actions, but Bethanne couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter being prosecuted. At the therapist’s suggestion, Annie had written Tiffany a letter of apology and Bethanne hoped the matter would end there.

      The waitress came by, and Bethanne ordered the fajita salad, while Paul chose the chicken enchilada plate. He waited until she’d left the table before resuming the conversation.

      “How’s Annie now?” he asked.

      “She’s dealing with