Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(96)

“But…why?”

“That I can’t answer.”

Colette frowned. “Has Elliott tracked him down in this other place?”

“No.” Elizabeth sighed heavily. “Not yet. He’s making arrangements to search for him now. I trust he’ll find Christian soon.”

Colette did, too. She was counting on it.

CHAPTER 35

“In knitting, as in life, there are usually two ways to go: The easy way and the hard way. Often we find out about the easy way only when we are three-quarters of the way through with the hard way.”

Ann Shayne and Kay Gardiner, Mason-Dixon Knitting Potter Craft, 2006

Lydia Goetz

I was very concerned about Margaret. I couldn’t ignore what Alix had told me about her wanting to pay someone to injure Danny Chesterfield. I waited, mulling over the situation before I approached Brad. When he heard my news, a dark frown crept slowly across his face.

“Do you think Matt knows about this?” he asked, bringing me a cup of coffee after dinner on Tuesday evening.

“I doubt it.” I gratefully accepted the coffee. It had become our habit to sit down and talk after the evening meal. We took turns making coffee or tea, and now that it was springtime, we often sat on the patio behind the house. I treasured these hours with my husband, even when we just sat in companionable silence.

Brad lounged on the deck chair next to me and cradled his mug with both hands. “We should tell him,” he finally said.

“I think so, too. Only…” I wasn’t sure how to say this. “You know how private Margaret can be.”

Brad looked over at me. “You don’t want to offend your sister by going behind her back.”

I nodded, feeling relieved at his understanding. “It might be best if we talked to the two of them together,” I said.

“How do you figure Margaret will react to being confronted with this?”

“Probably not well,” I admitted. “But I hope she’ll realize I couldn’t ignore this. I want her to know that I know.” My worst fear was that my sister would end up in jail while Danny Chesterfield roamed free. But Margaret was already in a prison of her own making, confined by her hate and her unwillingness to come to terms with what had happened.

Brad stood abruptly and set his mug aside. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” I should’ve known he wouldn’t want to delay doing something about this. Brad is a man of action.

I don’t think the same way Brad does, which is one reason I hadn’t mentioned it immediately. I needed to consider the problem from all angles, examine various options. Not Brad. He wanted to move forward, talk to Matt right away. A part of me was grateful not to carry this burden alone anymore, and yet I wasn’t sure that marching over to Matt and Margaret’s was the best course of action.

Brad settled the matter with one incisive question. “Do you want your sister to follow through with this?”

“No, but…”

“She will, Lydia.”

I knew he was right and the longer we waited, the more likely it was that Margaret would find someone to commit this crime on her behalf.

Fortunately, Cody had gone to his friend Zack’s down the street, and Mrs. Miller was happy to keep him there for another hour.

On the drive over to my sister’s, I asked Brad to do the talking once we arrived. I was nervous. Margaret can take offense so easily and she’d be furious with me for involving myself in affairs she considered none of my concern.

I pictured her blowing up at me, quitting her job and cutting off our relationship. That would devastate me. My mind always seemed to gravitate to the worst possible scenarios. It’s a tendency I’ve had for most of my life, even before the cancer. I find it frightening, unproductive and disconcerting—and I couldn’t quite suppress a sigh as I thought about this. I was about to confront my sister and risk the very relationship I treasured most, outside of the one I shared with my husband and son. And yet I had no choice. All at once I felt like weeping.

As the cliché has it, Brad could read me like a book. When we parked in front of my sister’s house, he gently took my hand. “Everything’s going to work out,” he assured me. “Don’t worry, okay?”

I hoped he was right.

Matt opened the screen door for us even before we made it to the top step. He’s a big man, tall and thick-waisted now that he’d reached middle age. I remember when my sister first started dating him in high school. I’d been half in love with him myself. My sister had chosen well; I liked and admired Matt.

“This is a nice surprise,” Matt said, leading us into the house. He kissed me on the cheek, and he and Brad exchanged handshakes.

Margaret stepped out of the kitchen, a dish towel tossed carelessly over one shoulder. She looked instantly suspicious. “What’s this about?” she asked.

“Sit down.” My brother-in-law gestured toward the sofa, ignoring Margaret’s lack of welcome. He turned off the television and, with his usual hospitality, offered us a drink.

We declined. Brad and I sat close to each other on the sofa. I folded my hands over my knees and waited for my husband to speak.

“I hope you’ll excuse our coming without any advance warning,” he began.

“Of course,” Matt said, glancing toward Margaret. “You’re welcome anytime.”