A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(52)

“What time will you be back?” Grams wanted to know as Courtney came through the kitchen on her way to the garage.

“Soon.”

“You’ve got money with you?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t bother hanging around to listen to any other questions. She wanted to escape and longed to feel the wind on her face and the sun on her neck as she pumped those pedals. The hell with Annie. She’d tried to help, tried to talk to her; she’d told her more than she’d ever shared with anyone about her mother, but it’d been a waste of time.

Courtney was breathless when she reached Blossom Street. As she turned the corner, A Good Yarn came into view and so did the French café on the other side of the street. The front window had a display of pastries.

Slowing the bike, she coasted to a stop outside the yarn store. Forcing her eyes away from the bakery window, she glanced into the front window of the shop and noticed Whiskers curled up, fast asleep. Lydia was busy with a customer; Margaret was, too. Even if Courtney did go directly inside, neither would have time to talk to her. Her gaze eagerly returned to the bakery.

Just last week Bethanne had talked about the chocolate éclairs 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.

CHAPTER 21

“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.”

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.