Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(13)

That was three years ago. Three long years. She regretted her failed marriage, and afterward had thrown herself into her career even more. Following her mother’s advice had sustained her through the loneliness and the sense of loss that accompanied her breakup with Joe. Perhaps she could look back at that painful period after this morning and feel that it had all been worth it.

“A date,” she repeated. “It must be more than a year ago now. What makes you ask?”

Robin shrugged.

“What about you?”

“Longer.”

Libby sympathized. “Anyone interested?” Clearly Robin had a reason for bringing up the subject again.

“A man interested in me?” Robin repeated. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“Anyone you find interesting?” Libby asked.

Robin popped up like a jack-in-the box and headed for the shower. “I’ve got to get to work.”

So that was it. Robin had a crush on someone. Well, well, well. Good for her. And they were enough alike that Libby understood the problem: Robin didn’t have a clue what to do about it. Libby wouldn’t have had, either. Relationships were often complicated, and getting involved could get sticky. It must be someone in Robin’s office. Although it was tempting, Libby didn’t pry. Robin would tell her when she was ready.

Libby grabbed her towel and followed her friend into the shower room.

She was dressing when Robin joined her. “I went back to that yarn store,” Libby mentioned casually, hooking up her bra.

“Oh? Are you knitting a project?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you knitting?”

“Preemie hats for Seattle General. I knit ten Friday night and ran out of yarn so I went back on Saturday to buy more. I knit another twenty over the weekend.”

Robin laughed. “As compulsive as ever.” She grabbed her workout bag. “See you Wednesday.”

“See ya,” Libby echoed.

Libby returned to A Good Yarn that same morning only to find a sign on the door indicating that the store was closed on Mondays. Seeing movement inside, she peered through the front window, her nose pressed against the glass and her hands at the sides of her head to block the reflection. She saw Casey and Lydia inside the shop.

Casey noticed her and hurried to the door, unlatching it. “We’re closed.”

“So I see. I came to drop off the hats I knit,” Libby explained. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Come in,” Lydia invited, joining her daughter. “I was just doing some paperwork and Casey and Ava were going to walk over to Seattle General to deliver the hats.”

“If you’d like, I’ll go with you,” Libby said. She wasn’t sure what made her volunteer, but she could see from the way Lydia reacted that she was glad that she wouldn’t need to send the girls off without an adult.

“That would be great.”

“My pleasure.” She had the time, so why not?

Ava avoided looking at her, but when she did, she offered Libby a shy smile.

“We have over two hundred hats,” Casey announced proudly. “The hospital goes through them real fast.”

“I think they share the hats with a number of other facilities in the Puget Sound area,” Lydia explained.

Casey and Ava divided the load between them, carting it in two plastic bags.

“Deliver the hats directly to Sharon Jennings on the third floor,” Lydia instructed. “Have reception notify Sharon and she’ll make sure you get passes.” Lydia walked them to the door and saw them out.

The three started down the sidewalk past the flower shop. As an adult, Libby had never spent much time with kids and wasn’t sure how to start a conversation. She needn’t have worried—Casey liked to chatter.

“Did you know I’m adopted?”

“I didn’t,” Libby said.

“I was twelve and came as a foster kid. Lydia and Brad wanted a baby but they got me instead. I have a little brother; he isn’t adopted—he’s from Brad’s first marriage. I have a real brother, too. He’s in jail right now. I write him and he’s happy that I’m part of a family.”

“Oh. Does he need an attorney?” asked Libby, only half-joking.

Casey laughed, apparently finding the offer amusing. “It’s too late for that. Lee’s getting out soon and is thinking about joining the army if he can. Brad told me the army has high standards these days and they might not take him.”

“You have a brother, too, don’t you, Ava?” Libby asked, wanting to draw the other girl into the conversation.

Ava nodded.

“He’s two years older and a real pest,” Casey supplied. “Ava lives with her grandmother and her grandmother works.”

“So you’re alone most of the day?” Libby turned it into a question, looking down at the young teen.

Ava nodded. “She doesn’t get home until late, so I cook dinner.”

“I bet she appreciates that.” After her mother died, Libby had taken over the responsibility of meals for her and her father. Her repertoire of recipes had been limited, but her father rarely commented or encouraged her. Perhaps that was why Libby never enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. No need, considering what an excellent cook Joe was. He’d done the majority of the cooking. Following the divorce she missed his home-cooked meals almost as much as she missed him.