Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(24)

“Are you Anne Marie Roche?” he asked.

“I am.” She wondered again why this strikingly handsome man was seeking her out. Most likely he was here to sell her insurance or to show her a new gift line. She’d never seen him before, so it couldn’t be anything personal. Which was just as well; attractive though he was, Anne Marie could only respond to him in an abstract way. Since Robert’s death, she hadn’t been interested in dating. And once Ellen entered her life, her entire world had begun to revolve around her daughter.

His demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“I’m Tim Carlsen.”

What was that about? If he was a salesman, he hadn’t bothered with a friendly approach. “Hello, Tim,” she said, refusing to allow him to intimidate her. “Can I help you with something?”

He looked at Teresa, who’d busied herself organizing a display of new children’s books. She did her best to pretend she wasn’t listening in on the conversation, although she couldn’t avoid hearing it.

“Can I ask what this is about?” Anne Marie asked, trying again.

“Perhaps it would be better if we spoke privately,” Tim said.

“About?”

He stiffened his shoulders. “Ellen,” he said quietly. “This is in regard to the child you’ve recently adopted.”

Anne Marie felt the oxygen rush from her lungs. But rather than reveal her surprise, she gestured calmly toward her off ice. She felt paralyzed as she tried to f igure out what possible connection this man could have to her daughter. The birth certif icate hadn’t named a father, and yet…

Inside the off ice, she took her seat behind the desk. Tim pulled up a chair across from her, not waiting for an invitation.

“You know my daughter?” she asked, wanting to make sure he understood that no one else had any legal right to the child. Her visitor shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that I do not.”

For some reason, this information reassured Anne Marie.

“How do you know about Ellen, then?”

“I’ve only heard of her.” Tim stared at the f loor. “I’m a recovering alcoholic with eight years’ sobriety.”

Heard of her how? was the f irst thing she wanted to ask. But she had no idea how to respond to his confession, nor did she understand why he felt it was necessary to tell her such a personal fact.

“Congratulations,” she said tentatively, “but what’s that got to do with Ellen or me?”

“I met Candy Falk at probably the lowest point in my life,” he continued, ignoring her question.

No one needed to remind Anne Marie that Candy Falk was Ellen’s birth mother and a known drug addict.

“Back then Candy and I were both using.”

“Drugs?”

Tim nodded. “Drugs, all kinds of drugs, you name it. But also alcohol. It wasn’t a good time…. Like I said, it was a low point for me.”

A tingling spread down Anne Marie’s neck. Her suspicion had been correct. She was starting to connect the dots and she didn’t like the picture that was taking shape in her mind.

“You still haven’t told me what any of this has to do with my daughter,” she said curtly. Ellen was part of Anne Marie’s life now. A very precious part, and she wasn’t about to let some man— some stranger—step in and make a claim.

Again Tim ignored her question. “Candy and I broke up, and my family arranged for me to enter rehab. I’ve been clean and sober ever since.”

“And?”

“I follow the twelve steps and traditions of AA. With my sponsor’s support, I’ve begun making amends wherever possible.”

“That’s good of you, but I don’t see what any of this has to do with Ellen or me.” As far as Anne Marie was concerned, this conversation was over. She stood and motioned toward the door.

“Please sit down, Ms. Roche.”

Her resolve melted under the force of his gaze and Anne Marie slowly sank back into her chair.

“As part of my attempt to make amends, I tried to locate Candy,” Tim said. “I couldn’t f ind her but I remembered where her mother used to live.” He looked away. “I needed her forgiveness, too.”

“Dolores?”

He spoke in a clear, even voice. “Candy and I stole money from her mother and I wanted to return it.”

Anne Marie swallowed. This was only a fraction, a tiny fraction, of the pain Candy Falk had brought into her mother’s life.

“I remembered the house where Candy had taken me, but it was empty.”

“Yes, I know.”

He didn’t seem to hear. “The neighbor was watering her rosebushes and we got to talking. She said Dolores had passed away some time ago and that her grandchild had been adopted.”

Anne Marie didn’t comment.

“I asked where Candy was, but the neighbor didn’t know.”

This was information Anne Marie was willing to pass along.

“I don’t know, either. Someplace in California, I think. I understand she’s still an addict.”

“I suspected as much,” he said with a grimace.

“It’s sad….” In case Tim hadn’t heard, she added, “Ellen’s aunt, Clarisse, is in prison.”