A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(62)

Courtney studied the graphic for another couple of minutes. “You might want to use a different font,” she suggested, “one of the less fancy ones. This one’s pretty but it’s kind of difficult to read. Try Comic Sans or Verdana. Or maybe Georgia.”

Annie made the changes, deciding on Comic Sans, and sat back to examine the effect. “Hey, I like that.”

So did Courtney. “This is really nice—you doing this for your mom, I mean.”

“She asked me to work at one of her parties this weekend,” she said, still focusing on the monitor.

“Are you going to?” Courtney didn’t mention that she’d volunteered, too.

“Yeah, I guess. She said you might be there.”

“I was thinking about it.”

“I’ll do it if you will,” Annie said and looked up, grinning.

A warm feeling touched Courtney. “Does this mean we’re friends?” she asked. It was an awkward question, but she needed to know.

Annie seemed to seriously consider it. After a moment she said, “I’d like that. And I know I already said this, but Andrew’s right—I do owe you. He says you saved my ass.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “So…thanks.”

“It’s okay.” Courtney dismissed her gratitude. “I did some pretty stupid stuff myself after Mom died. One day I started a fire behind the grocery store. I can’t even explain why I did it.” She lowered her head. No one knew about that, not even her sister. “I was hurting so bad. It was stupid, and if anyone ever found out, I’d probably still be in some detention center.”

“You didn’t go to a rave, though, did you?”

“No, but I was younger than you. Trust me—I got into my share of trouble.”

Annie’s responding smile was weak, and she bit her lip. “According to the therapist I saw, what happened to us is pretty common. I’m not alone. Families split up, fathers walk away, and the kids just have to cope. I’m not very good at that. And…and I thought my father loved me.”

“I’m sure he does.” Courtney felt confident of that, although she could tell it was hard for Annie to believe.

“Maybe,” Annie agreed reluctantly. “But he loves her more. It’s all right, though—I’m dealing with it.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried to blink them away.

“Can you print out that design?” Courtney asked, hoping to distract Annie. She pretended not to notice she was crying.

“Good idea.” Annie turned back to her computer, reached for the mouse and clicked on the printer icon. The printer started to hum, and they both stared at it as a sheet of paper slowly emerged.

Courtney picked it up and studied the design. “It looks fabulous.”

“You think so?” Annie asked. “I mean, I think it does, but it has to be perfect, you know? It has to look professional.”

“It does. Your mom’s going to flip when she sees it.”

Annie’s smile was bright with unshed tears. “Thanks, Court.”

Court—that was what her friends in Chicago used to call her. For the first time since she’d left home, she didn’t have that empty feeling in her stomach.

“Hey, what are you two up to?” Andrew asked, leaning against his sister’s door.

He looked really good. He must’ve just returned from football camp because he carried his gym bag, which was unzipped. His cleats were on top.

“I designed Mom some business cards,” Annie told him.

Courtney handed him the printout.

“Hey, this is good!”

“Don’t act so surprised,” his sister snapped.

His eyes met Courtney’s, and he grinned. “You two want to go out for pizza?”

“You buying?” Annie asked.

“Sure. I got paid this week.” He gestured at Courtney. “Can you come?”

“I’d like to.” One slice of pizza and a small salad would be fine. She’d enjoy her friends’ company and eat a reasonably healthy meal.

She was no longer trying to fill the hollowness inside.

CHAPTER 25

“Knitters just naturally create communities of friends and newfound friends at work, after work, or on the Internet, sharing their passion for knitting.”

Warm Up America! Foundation

LYDIA HOFFMAN

I’d been spending a lot of time outside the shop, talking to the loan managers at three local banks. I had to do something to help Margaret, but because of my medical history I was afraid I’d be refused a loan. My suspicions were right—until I talked to a wonderful manager at the third bank I tried. My business had been open for a little more than a year, I was showing a profit, and my latest checkup with Dr. Wilson had revealed that I was cancer-free. Seattle First, a small neighborhood bank, looked everything over and agreed to give me the loan. This was a red-letter day in my life as a business-woman. I was able to apply for and receive a loan! Definitely cause for celebration.

Margaret knew nothing about what I was doing. She made an effort to put on a brave front, the same way I did when it came to Brad. Matt still didn’t have a job in his field. He’d worked as an electrical engineer for Boeing, but I wasn’t really sure what he did. He’d recently found a job painting houses; I knew he hated it, but it brought in a paycheck, and with the little bit I paid Margaret they were managing to stay afloat. Except for their missed mortgage payments…