Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(48)
CHAPTER 17
Colette Blake
Colette prayed she’d done the right thing in telling Alix about the pregnancy. She hadn’t intended to, but it had seemed so natural…. Every day it became more difficult to conceal the news. Her instinct was still to keep the baby a secret for fear Christian would somehow discover her condition before she was ready to let him know.
Embarrassment had kept her from revealing the pregnancy to her family and her in-laws. What could she possibly say to Derek’s parents? Thank goodness they lived in Chicago! At least they wouldn’t find out until she chose to tell them—which she would. Eventually. They were wonderful people who loved their son and loved her. Colette was their last link to Derek and they kept in touch with her. Sooner or later she’d need to tell them the truth.
Then, of course, there was Christian. She expelled him forcefully from her mind. He’d made his choice and she’d made hers. When the time came, whenever that might be, she’d break the news to him. It seemed wrong to tell others and not the baby’s father; that, however, couldn’t be helped.
Discussing her pregnancy with Alix had given her a sense of exhilaration and relief. That old saying about confession being good for the soul—she’d certainly found it to be true.
Her high spirits had continued during her afternoon with Steve Grisham. She’d enjoyed their date, yet she felt something was missing in their relationship. In the beginning she’d assumed it had to do with her and the secret she kept. But after Saturday she realized there was a lack of connection between them. She liked Steve and was grateful for his company, which was pleasant and undemanding. And yet…
It surprised her that he didn’t notice anything amiss. At the end of the evening he’d kissed her tenderly and seemed disappointed when she didn’t invite him into her apartment. He’d asked to see her again and they were meeting for dinner on Friday evening.
“That’s lovely,” Susannah said, nodding at the arrangement of roses Christian had ordered for Elizabeth Sasser. As if to prove he meant absolutely nothing to her, she’d worked doubly hard to make the arrangement as attractive as possible. Roses didn’t need much to enhance their beauty, but she’d carefully chosen a gleaming copper tub and interspersed ferns and baby’s breath among the deep-red blooms.
“Would you mind if I delivered this personally?” Colette asked. She couldn’t explain why she felt the need to meet the new woman in Christian’s life. Elizabeth had apparently made quite an impression on him. Christian’s past relationships had never lasted more than a few months, and yet he’d left his credit card number and instructions for a full year of weekly flower deliveries.
Susannah blinked at the unusual request. “We have a service.”
“I’ll do it on my own time.” That would save Susannah the delivery fee.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t,” Susannah returned, not bothering to conceal her surprise. “If you want to…”
“Thank you.” Colette wasn’t so convinced she’d be thankful after she’d made the delivery, though. Elizabeth was probably beautiful beyond description, talented and rich to boot. Colette’s own shortcomings overwhelmed her. All she could think was that she was setting herself up to feel like a pathetic little waif, insecure and ridiculous. And yet her curiosity overrode common sense.
Then she remembered her most recent conversation with Alix. Her friend had talked about the ugly voices that shouted at her and dragged her into despair. Voices that told her she was worthless. She’d referred to it as “stinking thinking.” Colette was hearing voices like that now. They were just as destructive as the voices Alix had mentioned. Everyone heard them at one time or another, Colette decided. She was determined not to listen.
Before she left Susannah’s Garden, Colette refreshed her makeup and ran a comb through her hair. The other woman might be Hollywood beautiful, but Colette wouldn’t allow that to influence her own feelings about her appearance or self-worth. Or so she repeatedly told herself as she sought out the Capitol Hill address.
When she pulled up in front of the huge three-story house—actually, mansion better described the residence—her confidence deflated faster than a balloon in a sticker bush. The lawn and yard were meticulously groomed. The sidewalk leading to the entrance was lined with blooming roses; their scent readily identified them as antique varieties and not hybrids. How like a man to send dozens of roses to a woman who had a yardful!
It took Colette several moments to find the courage to ring the bell. A full minute passed. Then an elderly woman, dressed in a black uniform with a white apron, opened the massive front door.
“Hello,” Colette said with a friendly smile. “I have a flower delivery for Ms. Elizabeth Sasser.” In all her life, she’d never known anyone rich enough to employ a maid.
The other woman unlatched the screen door and pushed it open, accepting the arrangement with both hands. “They’re especially beautiful this week.”
“Is Ms. Sasser at home?” Colette asked, while she still had the courage.
“Doris? Who’s at the door?” The voice was that of an older woman.
“Flowers, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Again?” A woman in her seventies or early eighties made her way into the entry, walking slowly but without a cane. Her silver hair was piled on top of her head and she wore a light pink pantsuit with a diamond brooch pinned at the collar.