Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(78)

Jordan shook his head. “Mom, I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more to discuss. Alix and I are going to be married at Grandma’s place on Star Lake.”

Susan looked helplessly at Jacqueline; Alix read her look and felt terrible. This wasn’t how she wanted her marriage to begin—with disappointments and regrets. For just an instant she wavered.

Jordan’s hand tightened around hers. Alix knew he understood her need to please others and was forestalling any tendency to surrender.

“Alix and I will be working on Grandma’s yard, getting it ready. It’s going to be a lovely wedding, our wedding, just the way Alix and I want it.”

“Yes, I know, but…” All at once, her argument seemed to die. Susan’s shoulders sagged with defeat and she nodded glumly. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” Alix assured her. “I’m going to need all kinds of help.”

“What about me?” Jacqueline asked, eager not to be excluded.

“You’ll both be vital to the success of our wedding.”

Susan’s loud sigh reverberated in the small office. “I just hate letting all that food go to waste,” she murmured.

“It won’t,” Alix promised. “We can talk to the caterer and reduce the order. We’re changing the menu a bit, but it’s still going to be exceptional. We’ll have tables set up outside and—”

“You want an outside wedding?” Susan made it sound as if Alix had declared she wanted the ceremony performed underwater with Elvis as minister.

“Yes,” Jordan answered for her. “Alix and I plan to be married in a place of beauty and peace, surrounded by those we love and not a group of strangers.”

“But—” Whatever she’d intended to say was broken off. “It could rain,” Susan said, and seemed almost hopeful that it would.

“No, it won’t,” Jordan said.

“You don’t know that.”

“Ah, but I do,” he retorted. “I’ve already asked God to bless our day with sunshine.”

CHAPTER 28

“Sometimes in the chaos of everyday life, knitting represents the one thing over which I seem to have any control…and that is sometimes just an illusion.”

Joan Schrouder, well-traveled knitting teacher and tech answer guru on many knitting lists

Lydia Goetz

I couldn’t believe the change in Margaret after Julia had positively identified Danny Chesterfield. She actually looked taller to me. I told Brad while I was making dinner one night and he lowered the paper and stared at me. He seemed to think it was a silly comment. If he’d seen her at the store recently, he would’ve noticed the difference himself, especially after this past weekend. Margaret, the girls and I participated in the Relay for Life cancer walk. As it turned out, it was a positive and very emotional experience not only for us but for Amanda Jennings, a teenage cancer survivor I’d come to know. Julia, Amanda and I took part in the survivors’ walk. Margaret and Hailey walked later, taking the early morning shift in the twenty-four-hour event.

I met Amanda through Annie Hamlin, daughter of my friend Bethanne. Two years ago, Annie came to me when Amanda was diagnosed with her second bout of cancer. I used to visit Amanda in the hospital back then, and we still keep in touch. Annie marched with us, too. Our conversation was lighthearted, and Amanda sounded like the teenager she is. She’d been in remission for fifteen months, and was doing well.

We all were.

I actually heard Margaret whistling one morning when she arrived for work. Whistling. I didn’t even know Margaret could whistle. Oh, she can do the kind of whistling where you insert two fingers in your mouth and let it rip. Even as a kid she was known for those ear-splitting blasts. This, however, was like a sweet song. Margaret! I hardly knew what to say—although not commenting was probably for the best.

She was extra helpful, too. The minute a customer walked in, she was right there, offering service and advice or instructions as needed. She couldn’t do enough, which was a strong contrast to the previous weeks, when she’d glared at anyone who had the temerity to walk into the shop.

This change in attitude was welcome for more reasons than the obvious. I’d missed her, missed our discussions and I’d especially missed her perspective concerning the changes in our mother’s life.

Without burdening Margaret with a lot of details, Brad and I had started looking for a facility capable of dealing with Mom’s diminishing mental capabilities.

Watching our mother decline was heart-wrenching. Several times I’d had to stop myself from telling my sister about Mom’s troubles. Until recently, we’d talked over every decision.

In the beginning, Margaret balked and said I was exaggerating. She claimed I was worrying too much about one brief conversation with a nurse. I wished that was true, but I knew otherwise. Still, I realized Margaret had all she could cope with just then and I’d accepted that I should be the one to look after our mother.

When I’d finished my lunch in the back office, there was a lull between customers. “Do you have a minute?” I asked as I joined my sister in the shop, thinking now would be a good time to discuss Mom.

Margaret looked up from her crocheting. “Sure. What do you need?” I couldn’t remember Margaret ever being this agreeable.