A Good Yarn (Blossom Street #2)(92)

She left, smiling, and Paul leaned closer. “I want a contingency plan. I’ll do as you suggest, but if it doesn’t work out, I want you to know I’m coming back for you.”

“Paul,” she chastised, and then just gave in. “Oh, all right.”

“Good.” He grinned and lifted his mug in silent salute.

CHAPTER 40

“I do love a good yarn, fiction and fiber. The only thing that equals my joy in knitting is the pleasure of reading!”

LYDIA HOFFMAN

I visited Mom Sunday afternoon, and it was such a lovely autumn day that it seemed pointless to go back to an empty apartment. Sundays were the hardest for me. This particular Sunday, for some reason, felt lonelier than most. My love for Whiskers can take me only so far.

Mom looked better than she had in months, and seeing her smile cheered me considerably. Leaving her home of nearly fifty years must have been painful. I was grateful she’d accepted the upheaval in her life without an argument. After two weeks in a nursing home, the assisted living facility probably seemed like an extended vacation.

I think Mom understood, once she entered the hospital, that everything would change from that moment on. I could tell she was grateful to have less responsibility, although I don’t expect she’ll ever admit it. I know she missed her rose garden; I did, too.

We had lunch together in the dining room, and she introduced me to her new friends. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already met Ida and Francine last week and the week before that, too. Interestingly enough, Ida and Francine don’t appear to remember me, either.

Before leaving work on Friday evening, Margaret had invited me over for Sunday dinner but I’d declined. We see each other nearly every day and frankly, as much as I love my sister, I needed a break. I think she felt the same way since she readily accepted my explanation of “other plans.”

A number of subtle and not-so-subtle changes had taken place in the relationship between my sister and me. Margaret was knitting more, and I’d begun crocheting. It was almost as if we were both anxious to prove our willingness to see the other’s point of view.

With Sunday afternoon stretching before me, I drove to Green Lake. I’d missed walking the three-mile path around the lake with Brad and Cody and Chase. A dozen times or more, I’d stopped myself from driving there, but I decided not to stay away any longer. If Brad and Janice were on the path, I’d smile and greet them and simply keep going. Physical exercise is good for me and I refused to be deprived of an enjoyable walk just because there was a chance of an awkward encounter. I’d have to deal with it—and so would Brad.

It was a perfect day with the leaves just starting to turn and a light breeze coming off the water. I changed into my tennis shoes in the parking lot and stowed my purse in the trunk of my car. Carrying my car keys, I headed down the path.

I hadn’t gone more than a quarter of a mile when a golden retriever shot past me, dragging his leash. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough or alert enough to grab it. Somebody would be frantic about this runaway dog. For an instant I thought it was Chase, Cody’s dog, but it couldn’t be. Chase wasn’t that big. But within a few seconds, I heard Cody’s voice and I knew I was wrong.

“Chase! Chase! Get back here.”

I turned to look over my shoulder and saw that Cody was fast gaining on me. When he noticed me he halted abruptly, looked back, forward and then back again.

“Lydia,” he shouted and ran toward me, his arms open wide.

I caught him and hugged him close.

“I have to catch Chase,” he said, his eyes pleading with mine.

“Go,” I urged.

“Don’t leave, okay?” he pleaded, half running.

“I won’t,” I promised, but I wasn’t convinced, despite my earlier determination, that I was ready to see Brad and Janice together.

If I did come face to face with Janice, she’d probably gloat. It hadn’t taken me long to discover that she was completely self-absorbed and had little interest in being a mother. I suspected that if I did find her with Brad, she’d be delighted to let me know she could have her husband and son back any time she wanted. She’d certainly proved that to be true. One snap of her fingers, and Brad was there.

I hated myself for being so negative. I felt like returning to the parking lot and making my escape, but I didn’t want to break my promise to Cody.

Before I was ready to deal with it, I heard Brad shouting for his son. “Cody!” He didn’t sound too pleased to be chasing after him.

I glanced over my shoulder, surprised—and grateful—to see that he was alone. Janice was nowhere in sight. Intent on catching up with Cody, Brad jogged past me, eyes straight ahead, and had gone two or three feet before he looked back. Like Cody, he stopped, mentally debated what to do, then started toward me. But his arms weren’t open and waiting for a hug.

“Lydia.” My name was breathless as if he’d jogged a lengthy distance.

“I assume you’re looking for Cody and Chase.” Polite conversation was all I could manage.

“What are you—”

“Doing here?” I finished for him. “Walking,” I said, answering my own question.

He seemed dumbstruck.

“Cody’s about three minutes ahead of you, and Chase about half a minute ahead of Cody,” I said, pointing down the path. He didn’t need to waste time chatting with me when he had a son and a dog to catch.