Blossom Street Brides (Blossom Street #10)(70)

“So soon?” the teenager objected.

“Mom’s getting tired,” Lydia said, lowering her voice.

Her mother looked up, and in that instant Lydia knew that her own mother didn’t recognize who she was. “Can I get you anything before we go, Mom?” she asked, emphasizing their relationship.

Her mother blinked several times, and then it seemed her mind cleared. “I don’t need anything.”

Casey started to collect the Scrabble pieces and put them back inside the plastic bag before folding up the game board. Lydia half expected her daughter to protest their leaving before they finished playing. Surprisingly, she didn’t. Even Casey couldn’t ignore the fact that her grandmother’s decline was more and more apparent.

After hugging her mother, Lydia left her mom’s small apartment feeling sad and a little depressed. It was time to prepare herself to let go and release this woman who had given her life.

Once they were in the hallway outside the apartment, Casey asked, “Grandma’s not going to die, is she?”

The question was heavy on Lydia’s mind as well. “We all die sooner or later,” she said, being as evasive as she could.

“I mean die soon,” Casey clarified. “All that talk about her joining Grandpa worries me.” She jerked her backpack over her shoulder as if the weight of it had become heavier than she could carry.

“It worries me, too,” Lydia whispered.

Casey was silent until they reached the receptionist’s desk and collected the knitted scarves.

“That was a stupid idea,” the teenager muttered.

“What was?” Lydia asked.

“Whoever thought of those baskets with the yarn. It was stupid.”

Lydia realized Casey’s negative attitude was a result of the discussion regarding her grandmother. “Actually, whoever thought of it must be a generous, thoughtful person.”

“Why would you say that?” Casey asked. “All I ever heard was you complaining about it.”

“No, I haven’t.” Lydia was offended that Casey viewed her concern as complaining.

“Yes, you did,” she snapped. “You got all upset about that newspaper lady coming to talk to you.”

“I wasn’t upset,” Lydia explained. “I was worried because she seemed to think I was responsible, and I couldn’t take the credit when I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Once outside, they quickened their steps to avoid the drizzle.

“I hate the rain,” Casey muttered as she reached the parking lot.

“April showers bring May flowers.”

“It’s June. We should be watching flowers grow instead of dealing with this crap.”

“Casey, watch your mouth.”

Her daughter climbed into the passenger seat and slumped her shoulders forward as if saying she didn’t want to be interrupted. “I still say it’s stupid.”

“The rain?”

“That, too.”

“Are you still hung up on the knitted scarves?”

Casey didn’t answer.

“Actually, I think it was a good idea,” Lydia said conversationally, ignoring her daughter’s ugly mood. “It’s certainly brought attention to the shop. Business has increased by more than twenty percent since the knitting baskets started turning up.”

Completely uninterested, Casey glared out the side window. “Can I bake cookies when I get home?”

“If you want.”

“Gingersnaps, okay?”

Lydia hesitated. “You know those are Cody’s least favorite cookie, don’t you?”

“I happen to like gingersnaps.”

“You like a lot of cookies.”

“So now I’m fat.”

“Casey, my goodness, what’s the matter with you?”

“You just said I was fat.”

“I most certainly did not. What I meant to say was that there are any number of cookies you could choose to bake that the entire family would enjoy.”

“Why do I always have to cater to what Cody likes? It’s because he’s Brad’s real son and I’m adopted, isn’t it?”

Lydia was fast losing her patience. “That isn’t it at all. If you want to bake gingersnaps, then go ahead.”

“I don’t want to bake anything.”

“Fine, then don’t.”

For the remainder of the ride home, the silence in the car was as thick as a concrete block. As soon as Lydia put the vehicle in park, Casey opened the car door and jumped out as if she couldn’t get away from Lydia fast enough.

Gathering her patience, Lydia waited for a moment before following her daughter into the house. As soon as she opened the door, Brad looked up from the baseball game and frowned. “What’s Casey’s problem?”

“What happened now?” she asked.

Brad gestured weakly with his hands. “Don’t know. She walked in the door, looked at Cody, and called him a spoiled brat, and then proceeded down the hallway to her room. She nearly knocked the pictures off the wall, she slammed the door so hard.”

“Oh, dear.”

“What did I do wrong?” Cody asked, joining his parents. Lydia shrugged. “Casey wanted to bake cookies and suggested gingersnaps.”