Blossom Street Brides (Blossom Street #10)(48)

“I haven’t given it any thought yet,” Lydia asked. “What would you like?”

“Spaghetti,” Casey muttered, knowing it was Cody’s favorite meal and generally what he requested.

To his credit, Cody pretended not to hear his sister. “Can we have tacos and Spanish rice?”

“That’s a switch,” Casey said, louder this time.

“That,” he said pointedly, “is my new favorite dinner.”

“I’ll take hamburger out of the freezer right now,” Lydia told him.

“Thanks, Mom.” The screen door slammed as her son hurried to meet the school bus.

Seeing that Casey seemed to be in a bear of a mood, Lydia said nothing, preferring that her daughter reach out to her. She noticed that Casey had barely touched her breakfast. She swirled the spoon around the oatmeal a couple of times but didn’t eat. Lydia resisted placing her hand against the girl’s forehead to see if the teenager had a fever.

The silence was louder than a shouting match, and when Lydia couldn’t bear it any longer, she tried another tactic. “That reporter I met Sunday at McDonald’s is stopping by the shop this morning.”

Casey perked up slightly. “Will your picture be in the newspaper?”

Lydia couldn’t be sure. The reporter had wanted to do the interview right then, but Lydia couldn’t. Not with Brad and the kids waiting for her, and so they’d arranged to meet this morning. “I doubt she’ll want more than a statement or two.”

“Didn’t she ask to take your picture or that of the shop?” Casey sounded offended that Lydia hadn’t been promised the front-page headline.

“She didn’t say anything about a photographer.”

“Oh.” As though terribly disappointed, Casey’s shoulders sagged.

“I’m not even sure why she wants to interview me. I don’t have anything to do with those knitting baskets.”

“But the yarn is from the shop.”

“I know. I’m convinced it’s one of my customers.” While Lydia recognized the yarn, most of which had been discontinued long ago, she hadn’t come up with answers. The wide variety of yarns told her that whoever it was had been a longtime customer. She’d asked several of her friends who frequented the shop but hadn’t gotten any help from that end.

Casey looked up. “I think it’s a wicked good idea.”

“I suppose.” It was a wicked good idea, she agreed. However, she wished whoever was responsible had thought to mention it to her.

“Come on, Mom. Everyone is talking about it.”

That was true enough. “It’s certainly gotten the shop a lot of attention, and we’ve gotten more business as a result … only …” She let the rest fade.

“Only what?” Casey pressed.

“Well … it’s a little embarrassing to have to tell everyone that I’m not involved. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it would have helped to coordinate with me. In some ways, I feel blindsided.”

Casey sat up straighter, and her eyes brightened. “I think I know who it is.”

“You know?”

“It’s a guess.”

“Guess away,” Lydia urged. Her daughter could be insightful at times, and there was every possibility that Casey had thought of an angle that had escaped Lydia.

Casey leaned forward slightly, and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “Margaret.”

“Margaret?” Lydia repeated, and had to squelch the urge to laugh. “Well, maybe, but I doubt it.”

“Trust me. It’s Margaret,” Casey said, and then advised, “Keep an eye on her. She can be secretive like that. Grandma told me that when Margaret was a teenager she used to sneak out of her bedroom in the middle of the night and meet up with friends.”

“Grandma told you that, did she?”

“Yes. She tells me lots of things. You didn’t do that because you were the good girl.”

She was the sick girl, but Lydia didn’t bother to correct her.

“I’ll keep a watch over Margaret,” she promised, although if it was her sister it would be a complete shock. Margaret was many things, but this publicity ploy wasn’t her style. She had an in-your-face kind of personality. Going behind Lydia’s back and delivering knitting baskets around the neighborhood didn’t sound a bit like her sister.

“Can you drive me to school?” Casey asked after glancing at the time.

“Okay.” As it was, her daughter had already missed the bus, and if she was going to get to school anytime close to the bell, it would mean Lydia would need to drive her. “Hurry.”

“I will.” Casey’s mood seemed only slightly more chipper. Any improvement was a plus, though.

Quickly, Lydia cleared the table and stuck the dirty bowls inside the dishwasher. She got the promised hamburger out of the freezer and set it on a plate on the counter and grabbed her raincoat and purse. The sky looked dark and brooding, which sort of matched her daughter’s mood.

Lydia was already in the car when Casey joined her. The teenager snapped her seat belt into place and expelled her breath as though she’d greatly exerted herself with the effort.

Taking a risk, Lydia asked, “Did you have another bad dream last night?” She hadn’t heard Casey, but then, if she hadn’t cried out, Lydia could have slept through it.