A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(102)

“It is for me,” Maverick said.

With that she acquiesced. However, she did feel it was only fair to remind him that she came with encumbrances. “Maverick,” she began, “don’t forget I’m in the middle of that lawsuit and—”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s a legal and financial mess.”

“It’ll work itself out. Just promise me you won’t worry about it.” He studied her intently.

Elise walked farther into the apartment and collapsed onto the edge of a brown leather sofa. “How can I not worry? You have no idea how much money I’ve lost. I can’t just forget about it.”

“No, but you can’t worry yourself sick over it, either. What will be will be. Nothing you do now is going to change anything. It’s in the hands of the courts—isn’t that what you told me?”

She nodded.

“From now on, I’ll take care of your financial concerns.”

At her automatic protest, he said, “Elise, I want to help you. I’m a rich man.”

She blinked twice. Rich? Maverick?

“Don’t look so shocked.”

“You’re a gambler, Maverick. No one makes money gambling.”

He sighed deeply. “I wasted too much of my life seeking that pot of gold, I’ll admit that now. There were plenty of other occupations I could’ve been successful at—but nothing interested me in the same way.” He gave an amused little shrug. “I was born with card sense.”

Elise remembered that he’d made every single child-support payment on time. She’d often wondered how he’d been able to manage it. She’d been willing to acknowledge that he must’ve had moderate success—but rich?

“You lost that poker tournament in the Caribbean,” she murmured.

“True. But the money for the second-place prize was eight hundred thousand dollars.”

Elise gasped.

“No matter what you say, those socks you knit brought me luck.”

If she hadn’t already been sitting, Elise’s knees would’ve gone out from under her. “Eight hundred thousand dollars?” she repeated in a voice that resembled a squeak. “You’ve got to be kidding.” She had no idea there was that kind of money in gambling.

“Apparently you aren’t aware of the recent popularity of poker.”

Dumbfounded, she shook her head.

“I’ve placed the majority in a trust fund for Aurora, David and the boys. Plus, I did a bit of what my mother called planting seeds of faith.”

Her head snapped up and she looked at him with wide eyes. “It was you,” she whispered. “You’re the one who gave Bethanne the money she needed.”

“If you say so.” His voice was nonchalant but his lips were curved in the slightest of smiles.

“I do. It had to be you.” Everything fell into place. Maverick had waited for her during each knitting class and on the way home she’d given him an update on each of her friends.

“You flew Courtney’s sister out here for the Homecoming dance. How did you ever find her?”

A twinkle flashed in his eyes. “Pulanski isn’t a name you hear every day, now, is it?”

“And Margaret’s husband?”

“He got that job on his own merits,” Maverick insisted, but the smile was growing as he continued. “Taking advantage of an old connection. A word dropped in the right ear. Although the signing bonus is another story.”

Elise knew nothing about any of that. “You do this sort of thing often?”

“On occasion. I like to practice what people refer to as random acts of kindness.”

“Only these weren’t so random, were they?”

“Perhaps not, but I figure whatever I give to others comes back tenfold. Not necessarily to me but to people who need it. People Bethanne or Matt or Courtney meet, maybe tomorrow, maybe ten years from now. Kindness is something that should always be passed on.”

Elise regarded him with open admiration. “Have you always been this wonderful and I just never noticed? Or is it a new development?”

He chuckled. “You don’t expect me to answer that honestly, do you?”

She brought her palm to his face and let her love shine through her eyes. “Oh, Maverick, I love you. Rich or poor, I love you. We’re going to have a very good life together—for however long God gives us.”

“The way I feel right now,” he whispered, “that’ll be a very long time.”

Elise hoped he was right.

CHAPTER 46

COURTNEY PULANSKI

The Next Year

Courtney hurried from her last class to her dorm room, hoping there was a card in the mail from Andrew. They e-mailed at least once a day and sometimes more. In their last communication, he’d suggested she check her mailbox in the near future. That was a sure sign he’d dropped something off for her at the post office. He was attending Washington State University on a football scholarship and Courtney was a freshman at the University of Illinois at Chicago.

To Courtney’s amazement, her senior year had proved to be the best part of her high-school experience. She’d arrived in Seattle overweight, lonely and miserable, certain she was destined to have a wretched year.