Back on Blossom Street (3 page)

I sighed; I’d heard this far too often and it still made no sense to me.

“Why not?” I asked defensively.

“Think about it,” Margaret said. “Colette’s obviously
far more capable than she’s letting on. Why is she working in a flower shop? She could get a job anywhere.”

“She just lost her husband,” I muttered.

“A year ago. Okay, that’s tragic and I’m sorry, but it doesn’t mean she has to go into hiding, does it?”

“She isn’t hiding.” I didn’t know that for sure. But I argued with Margaret because I sincerely liked Colette; my sister was overreacting and it troubled me that she went through life seeing everyone as suspect.

“Then why’s she working next door for minimum wage?” Margaret pressed. “There’s more to her than meets the eye and until we find out what it is, I don’t think it’s wise to be so chummy.”

“Everyone handles grief differently,” I went on to explain, although I didn’t have the answers Margaret wanted. It was true that Colette had made a lot of major changes in a short time. Equally true that I didn’t know much about her circumstances.

“I doubt any of this has to do with her husband, anyway,” Margaret said, still looking in the direction of the stairs. “Mark my words, Colette’s hiding something.”

My sister sometimes shocked me with the things she said. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, that’s ridiculous!”

Margaret raised one shoulder. “Maybe, but I doubt it. Something about her doesn’t sit right with me. I know you like her and apparently Susannah does, too, but I’m reserving judgment until we learn more about her.”

I shook my head stubbornly. My instincts told me Colette was a good person.

Margaret frowned at my wordless response. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Careful?
She made Colette sound like a fugitive. “You’ve been reading too many detective novels,” I teased, knowing how much my sister enjoyed reading
suspense fiction. She kept a paperback tucked inside her purse and enjoyed discussing the plots with me. I tend to listen to audio books; that way, I can “read” and knit at the same time. That’s my idea of multitasking.

“Has Colette ever mentioned where she used to work before Susannah’s Garden?” Margaret asked.

“No…but why should she?”

Margaret cast me one of the looks that suggested I was far too trusting.

Clearly Margaret had a more vivid imagination than I did. “I don’t think she’s in the witness protection program, if that’s what you’re implying.” I walked to the front of the shop, rolled up the shade on the door and turned the Closed sign to Open. I saw that the rain had intensified in the last while. Whiskers immediately leaped into the window and curled up, purring softly.

“I wanted to discuss another knitting class,” I said, remembering my thoughts of earlier that morning. I flipped the light switch and through the steamy windows of the French Café across the street, I saw my friend Alix Townsend, who worked there as a baker. The rain came down in a torrent, falling so hard it bounced against the pavement and ran in the gutters. It’d been nearly two weeks since Alix and I had talked and I’d missed her. I knew she had less free time these days, since she was in the middle of planning her wedding.

Many changes had taken place since I’d come to Blossom Street. The French Café, of course, and Susannah’s Garden. There was a new bookstore three doors down from me now, and directly across from that was the old bank building, which had been turned into ultra-expensive condos. They sold so fast, even the real estate people were shocked. A few of the residents had taken my knitting classes and I was beginning to know them.

“Maybe I’ll go and see Alix this morning,” I said casually. I rarely ate breakfast but I was in the mood for something sweet. If I timed it right, maybe Alix would be able to join me for a muffin and a cup of coffee.

“You’re changing the subject again,” Margaret said from behind me.

“I am?” I tried to recall what we’d been discussing. “I didn’t mean to. I was just thinking about everything that’s happened on Blossom Street.”

Margaret glanced at me. “It all started with you and A Good Yarn,” my sister said. “You set the tone for this neighborhood. People like it here.”

Praise from Margaret was rare indeed and I felt a surge of pleasure at her words.

Despite the rain and despite our disagreement about Colette, I knew we were going to have a good day.

Alix Townsend

I
t was raining—again. Alix Townsend dashed across the street, already drenched by the rain that had been coming down steadily since the Thursday before. She needed a cigarette. Bad. After more than two years without one, she could hardly believe how intense the craving was. She felt blindsided by it. The damn wedding—that was the problem. A whole vocabulary of swearwords raced through her mind. In less than four months, on June second, she would become Reverend Jordan Turner’s wife, and frankly, that terrified her.

Alix Townsend a pastor’s wife! It was almost laughable. Although few people knew it, her mother was in prison for a variety of crimes, including forgery, passing bad checks and attempted murder. This wasn’t her first stint in jail, either. Tom, Alix’s only brother, was dead of a drug overdose and she hadn’t had any contact with her father since she was twelve. As far as she knew, he’d made no effort to get in touch with her. When it came to family, Alix definitely felt cheated.

She didn’t consider herself a fancy-church-wedding
candidate, but somehow, almost without noticing it, she’d become immersed in this whole crazy mess. This…this
sideshow
of a wedding.

“Alix,” Jordan shouted, running after her, his feet pounding hard as he crossed the road and splashed his way through the puddles on Blossom Street.

Alix had visited Jordan’s office during lunch break. They hadn’t actually argued, although they’d come close. She hated what this wedding had turned into, hated having no control, hated that no one seemed willing to listen. Not even Jordan. When she realized he wasn’t hearing her, she’d rushed out of his office with a huge lump in her throat. The stinging tears surprised her as much as the craving for a cigarette.

She ignored Jordan’s shout. With the rain and wind, it was easy to pretend she hadn’t heard him.

“Alix!” he yelled again and a moment later caught up with her.

She slowed her pace and he fell into step beside her. “What just happened back there?” he asked. He was obviously confused by the way she’d hightailed it out of his office.

“What do you mean?” she asked, annoyed that he couldn’t figure it out.

“Why’d you leave like that? We were right in the middle of a conversation and all of a sudden, you’re gone.”

“You weren’t
listening
to me,” she said, looking up at him, not caring that the rain had drenched her short hair, dripping down her face and onto her chin.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he began. “I—”

“You don’t
know?
” she cried, struggling not to get emotional. “Shouldn’t I have some say in my own wedding?”

“You do.” He still seemed befuddled. “The last thing
I remember was you telling me Jacqueline and Reese had decided to hold the reception at their country club.”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” she asked him.

“I think it’s very generous.”

“It is, but…” Jacqueline and Reese had been wonderful—about everything. Alix owed them far more than she could ever repay.

She’d met Jacqueline in a knitting class at A Good Yarn, and after a rough start the older woman had taken Alix under her wing. Alix had signed up for that class in order to work off community service hours on a trumped-up drug charge; she’d decided to knit a baby blanket and donate it to charity. Her caseworker had approved the project and that was the beginning of her friendship with the Donovans.

Through Reese Donovan’s business connections and the Rotary Club, Alix had been able to attend culinary school. The Donovans had provided part-time employment, as well. She’d filled in as their housekeeper when needed, and they’d let her move into their guesthouse, where she still lived. Jacqueline and Reese were about as close to family as Alix ever hoped to have. They’d given her the love, encouragement and support her own parents never had, and Alix loved them in return. She’d asked their daughter-in-law, Tammie Lee, to serve as her matron of honor. Jordan’s brother, Bret, was to be his best man.

“From what my mother told me, Jacqueline had to call in all kinds of favors to get the country club for a Saturday in June,” Jordan said.

“I know.” The guilt was even stronger than her craving for a cigarette. “But, Jordan—the country club?”

Her fiancé placed his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get out of the rain.” He led her under the awning outside the French Café. The rain beat against it and the water fell in a solid sheet over the edge.

“Mom was really pleased when I told her what Jacqueline had done,” Jordan continued.

Alix lowered her head. Jordan’s mother was a subject best avoided. Susan Turner would’ve preferred a more traditional bride for her son. Her future mother-in-law hadn’t said or done anything overt, but Alix wasn’t stupid. She
knew.
Jordan was close to his parents, though, and Alix would never mention any of this to him.

“Kiss me.”

Jordan’s eyes flared wide. “Here? Now?” He glanced over his shoulder through the large picture window at the café filled with customers.

Alix nodded, not caring who saw them or what anyone thought. “And not a peck on the cheek, either. I need a
real
kiss.”

“All right.” He clasped her shoulders with both hands and bent down to cover her mouth with his. His lips were warm and moist as they touched hers, his mouth slightly open. Relaxing, she savored his taste, his feel. She did her best to remember that while a big fancy wedding wasn’t what
she
wanted, it would make a lot of people happy—people like Jordan and his family and Jacqueline and Reese. She’d do it; she didn’t have to like it. With that in mind, she slid her arms around Jordan’s neck and leaned into him. She wanted him to know how much she loved him. She
must
love him if she was willing to go through with this craziness.

When he broke off the kiss, she sighed and instantly felt better.

“You have to talk to me, Alix,” he whispered, holding her tight, nuzzling her neck. “Tell me when you’re worried about something….”

“I did. You weren’t listening.”

“I was trying,” he said in a low voice. “Do you want to call off the wedding? Is that it?”

“No!” Her response came fast and vehemently. “I love you. I want us to be married.”

He brushed the wet hair from her forehead, his eyes intense. “And I love you.”

She looked away because the love shining from his eyes confused her and made it difficult to speak. “As soon as you gave me the engagement ring, I should’ve known everything would change.”

“In what way?” he asked.

“Before…before, it was just you and me—and your teens, of course.” As a youth pastor, Jordan planned church-related activities with the teenagers in his congregation. Alix often tagged along to help. It was understood that once they were married, her role would continue in a larger capacity. That was fine; she enjoyed working with that age-group. She related to a lot of the temptations they faced in the world and found it gratifying that she was able to steer some of them away from making negative choices, choices she’d made as a teenager and come to regret.

Then the minute he’d slipped the engagement ring on her finger, life as she knew it changed.

As soon as she heard the news, Jacqueline had instantly started talking about the wedding. In fact, for Christmas, Jacqueline had presented Alix with a huge hardcover book titled
Planning the Perfect Wedding.
At the time, Alix hadn’t given the actual ceremony much thought. She figured she’d marry Jordan with his family and a few friends in attendance, open gifts, eat cake, and that would be it.

Boy, was she wrong. The wedding was turning into a production, like a Broadway musical or something, with a dinner that cost more per plate than she’d earned in a week back when she’d been employed at the video store.

That wasn’t all. The dress—correction,
gown
—had become a major issue. Each one she’d seen came covered with expensive lace or hundreds of tiny pearls. Or both. Jacqueline had taken her to a boutique, and Alix had made the mistake of glancing at the price tag. She’d nearly fainted. People bought cars for less money than those dresses!

“Can’t we elope?” she pleaded, her face buried in Jordan’s chest. She knew the answer; still, she had to ask.

“Sweetheart, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” She looked up, hoping he’d give her the confidence she needed to see this through. The acceptance—the resignation—she’d felt earlier had faded. She was no longer sure she could be Alix Townsend, Perfect Bride. The wedding was four months away and already she could feel the panic rising inside her.

More than anything she wanted to be Jordan’s wife. She’d fallen in love with him when they were in the sixth grade; he embodied everything she’d ever longed for in life. Then she’d met him again three years ago, shortly after she’d joined the knitting class. She remembered every single fact about Jordan from grade school. She remembered what she’d learned about his family, too. His mom and dad loved each other and cared for their children. They weren’t drunks and losers like her parents. They had regular meals, during which the entire family sat down at the table and talked about their day. In Alix’s home, no one did anything together. If her mother was inclined to cook, dinner was left on the stove and everyone dished up their own meals. Most nights Alix ate alone in front of the television while her parents argued in the background. More often than she cared to count, the fights turned physical and she hid in the closet, where she’d invented a fantasy world—a whole family of
parents and siblings like the ones on TV. Or the ones at Jordan’s house…

The contrast between her life and his didn’t stop there. Alix’s mother had once fired a gun at her father and landed in jail. By the time she left school, Alix had gone through a whole series of foster homes. During those years she’d been in plenty of trouble, too. But when Tom died of a drug overdose, it had hit her hard. Alix knew she was headed for the same fate if she didn’t change her life. From that moment, she swore off drugs. They were death with a capital
D.
She’d been tempted more than once, but had always found the courage to walk away.

“The wedding’s just one day out of our lives,” Jordan pointed out.

Alix sighed. Twenty-four hours—actually, less than that—she could handle. The wedding was scheduled for five o’clock in the afternoon, followed by a dinner and reception at the country club. Jordan already had reservations at a hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, for their honeymoon. If enduring a formal wedding meant she’d be Jordan’s wife at the end of that day, then she’d do it without another word of complaint.

“I know this isn’t your kind of thing,” Jordan said, kissing the top of her wet head. “The truth is, all I care about is being married to you.”

“Really?”

He smiled. “Really.”

“Then why don’t we just get married by ourselves and tell everyone after the fact?” Even as she said it, Alix knew that would never happen.

“We can’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry. My mother would feel we’d cheated her and…there’d be talk.”

“Talk,” she repeated, her voice numb.

“I work in a church,” he reminded her unnecessarily.
“Eloping isn’t a good example to pass along to the kids in the congregation. You might not realize it, but they watch everything we say and do.”

This wasn’t news to Alix, since she was well aware of how the teens looked up to Jordan and consequently, to her. She remembered the first time she’d seen Jordan with a group of church kids at a local skating rink. He’d made her think of the Pied Piper leading children through the town. Those kids thought the world of him; they idolized him and had sent frequent glances her way, apparently shocked that he was associated with her. They weren’t the only ones.

It’d taken Alix a long time to believe that Jordan loved her. Even now, she wasn’t sure what had attracted him to her. Whatever it was, she felt deeply grateful.

“It’ll be a small wedding,” Jordan promised.

She nodded. Her guest list was limited to a few friends, most of whom she’d met through the knitting class. Maybe twenty people.

“Mom’s putting together her list this week.”

At the mention of his mother, Alix tensed. She liked Jordan’s mother but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a disappointment to Susan Turner. In truth, Alix didn’t blame her and was determined to do whatever she could to make this relationship a successful one.

She derived some comfort from knowing that Jacqueline hadn’t liked her daughter-in-law in the beginning, either. Jacqueline couldn’t understand why Paul, their only son, would marry someone like Tammie Lee, whose southern background was so dissimilar to his own.

If Alix recalled correctly, Jacqueline had had another woman in mind for Paul. Tammie Lee had persevered, though, and eventually her kindness and charm had won Jacqueline over. By the time her first grandchild was
born, Jacqueline had wholeheartedly accepted Tammie Lee. Now they were as close as…well, family. And Alix considered Tammie Lee one of her best friends.

Susan Turner might well have another woman in mind for her youngest son, too. If so, Jordan had never mentioned anyone. One Sunday, three years ago, Alix had slipped into the back of the church without Jordan’s knowledge. As part of the service he’d sung a duet with a beautiful blonde—who’d turned out to be his cousin. But seeing him with someone else, even in church, had infuriated Alix. Jordan had been equally upset with her for jumping to conclusions. He was right. Not once in all the time they’d dated had Jordan given her reason to suspect he was interested in anyone else.

That didn’t mean his mother shared his certainty about Alix, though. Still, Susan had always been polite, if a bit cool. Jordan got along exceptionally well with his parents, and the last thing Alix wanted to do was mess that up for him.

“You need something to take your mind off all this wedding business,” Jordan said.

“Like what?” She was eager to do anything that would help her get through the next few months.