Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(32)

Hutch desperately wanted this lawsuit to disappear. However, writing a cheque for half a million dollars meant he’d be buying peace, and a tentative one at that. If he settled now, he was convinced he’d be opening the door for other such lawsuits and he refused to let that happen.

“I can’t do it, John.”

His father’s old friend sighed loudly. “I f igured you wouldn’t take it.”

“Do you seriously think I should?”

“I won’t say. The decision is yours, and you went with your instincts. It’s what your father would’ve done.”

Hutch replaced the receiver, pleased with the comparison—

until he remembered that his father had died at the age of f iftyeight.

Chapter 11

Phoebe Rylander

Phoebe hurried through the rain to the waterfront restaurant where she’d agreed to meet her mother for lunch. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe the invitation had been prompted by any desire for her company. In every likelihood, Clark would be the main topic of conversation.

Her f irst instinct had been to beg off. Several convenient excuses readily presented themselves. For one thing, Phoebe only had an hour’s lunch break and there was no guarantee she’d get back on time. Second, she’d seen her mother recently, although she’d cut their visit short because of Leanne’s insistence on discussing Clark. Yet, even though her mother would pressure her to forgive Clark and forget the entire unsavory mess, Phoebe had agreed to this lunch. She didn’t know why.

Then again, she did.

A part of her, the part that missed Clark so much, that missed his kisses and larger-than-life energy, hungered for any word of him. If she couldn’t have Clark—and she couldn’t—then, fool that she was, Phoebe wanted to hear about him. Her mother would be more than willing to give her the details she secretly longed for.

The outrage had faded now, replaced with a burning sadness. She loved Clark. He’d been a very important part of her life for nearly two years. It felt as if a giant hole had opened up in her everyday existence, a hole that seemed to grow deeper and wider every single day. Phoebe wavered between wishing Clark could be wiped from her memory and pathetically craving any scrap of information about him. Breaking off the relationship would’ve been so much easier if she could just turn off her feelings. Or ignore them. But despite everything, she still wanted Clark. Although she had a job that meant a lot to her, the days seemed empty. Her evenings were listless as she looked for ways to f ill the time she would otherwise have spent with Clark. The waterfront restaurant, close to Pike Place Market, was one of the places often frequented by tourists. The hostess was busy seating patrons when Phoebe arrived. She removed the scarf that had protected her hair from the drizzle and glanced over at the bank of windows with their view of the murky green waters of Puget Sound. To her surprise, her mother was already seated. Leanne waved; Phoebe waved back, then made her way through the maze of tables.

“You’re early.” That was a rarity. Phoebe took off her raincoat, hanging it on a hook outside the circular booth, and slid in next to her mother.

“I wanted to get us a good seat.” Leanne set aside the menu.

“I see you’re right on time, as usual.”

Phoebe didn’t comment. Her mother spoke as if being prompt was a character f law.

“The special of the day is a squash risotto and the soup is tomato basil.”

“They both sound nice,” Phoebe said, although she didn’t have much of an appetite.

“I’m ordering the barbecued shrimp,” her mother declared.

“It’s supposed to be excellent. Marlene Snowden recommended it the last time we ate here.” She paused, apparently wondering if she’d done the wrong thing in mentioning Clark’s mother.

Phoebe let the remark slide. “I’ll just have the soup.”

Leanne continued, a bit cautiously. “Speaking of Clark’s mother…”

“Must we?” Phoebe asked pointedly.

“Oh, Phoebe, I don’t think you realize how upset everyone is. Marlene phoned me in tears. She can’t believe you’d do something like this.”

“Me?” Phoebe cried, arousing curious looks from the people seated close by. “Why does all the blame fall on me?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Clark’s the one who can’t keep his pants zipped.”

Her mother blanched. “Phoebe, please…”

“I didn’t come here to discuss Clark, his family or anything to do with them,” she said, although that wasn’t strictly true. “If you feel you have to bring his name into the conversation, it might be best if I left now.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t do that. I’m sorry. It’s just that this is painful for me, too. Marlene and I have become such good friends.”

“Even if Clark and I are no longer engaged, there’s no reason you can’t still be friends with his mother,” Phoebe whispered, although she already knew the relationship was doomed. Her mother and Marlene had little in common. Leanne had loved being included in the Snowdens’ social circle, but with the engagement over, it was unlikely that Marlene would continue to invite Phoebe’s mother to the exclusive events she’d enjoyed so much. The waiter came for their drink order and to Phoebe’s astonishment her mother ordered an expensive glass of white wine. Phoebe asked for coffee. The weather seemed to suggest a hot drink; besides, she had to work this afternoon. Minutes later, their server was back with their drinks and wrote down their lunch choices.