Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(76)

“Now that I’m here,” she said, “I might as well check at the nurses’ station to see for myself how Max is doing.”

“They’re very busy,” Clark immediately countered.

“He’s in ICU, isn’t he?”

Clark exhaled. “Actually, he was moved earlier….” He let the rest fade. “Why don’t we all have a cup of coffee and I’ll update you?”

“So your father made a miraculous recovery in the last thirty minutes.” She didn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“He’s doing well enough for Mom to go home, but you have to understand he’s still at serious risk.”

Phoebe didn’t believe it.

“I could do with a cup of coffee,” Leanne said. “Decaf, of course. Anything with caffeine would keep me awake for hours.”

“You two go ahead,” Phoebe told them. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes. I’m going to use the ladies’ room.”

Clark stared after her as she hurried down the hall to the public restrooms. Once inside, she pulled out her cell phone, called directory assistance and had them connect her with the hospital’s receptionist.

“Could you please tell me what room Max Snowden’s in?” she began and silently asked God to forgive the lie. “I’d like to order f lowers online and apparently they need a room number.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Before long the woman was back. “Our records show that Mr. Snowden was released from the hospital two days ago.”

“I see,” Phoebe said through gritted teeth. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“It was my pleasure.”

It would be Phoebe’s pleasure to tell Clark what she thought of him. When she stepped out of the restroom, Clark and Leanne stood in the hallway waiting for her.

“Time to go, Mother,” she said f irmly.

Leanne cast her a confused glance. “But…what about coffee with Clark?”

Phoebe marched past him. “We aren’t having coffee with Clark.”

“Phoebe,” her mother said, struggling to keep pace with her.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re being rude. Clark’s father is very ill. Like you, I’m disappointed that Marlene isn’t here, but Clark told me she’s been with Max for days and is emotionally and physically exhausted.”

Phoebe stopped and turned to face her mother and Clark. “If that’s the case, then she wasn’t at the hospital.”

“But of course she was,” Leanne protested. “The entire family was gathered here…. Clark was just telling me about it.”

“That’s very interesting, Mom, since Max was released two days ago.” She looked directly at Clark. “Did you think I couldn’t call the hospital switchboard?”

He glared back at her and refused to answer.

“If anything like this ever happens again,” she said slowly and distinctly, “I’m calling the police.” She wanted to be sure he understood this wasn’t an idle threat. “I’m serious, Clark. One more incident like this and I’ll report you as a stalker.”

Her mother whirled around and confronted Clark, an expression of shock and disbelief on her face. “Is that true?” she demanded.

“Clark Snowden is the last person you should be asking about the truth,” Phoebe said in a withering voice as she turned and headed out the door, toward the parking garage. Her mother scurried after her, half trotting in an effort to keep up. Angry as she was, Phoebe couldn’t get away from Clark fast enough. If she’d ever had any doubts or second thoughts, this had sealed it. Thank goodness she’d followed her instincts and brought her mother along.

Leanne didn’t say anything for several minutes. “I think you might be right about Clark,” she f inally said, breathless by the time they entered the parking garage. “That man isn’t to be trusted.”

Chapter 27

With my work as a designer, I feel like I am leaving a legacy to pass on to future generations. I can’t imagine either of my children growing up without a relationship with knitting. I cannot wait until my kids are old enough to learn to knit, and we can sit and knit together. What other line of work allows you to create like this, alongside your family?

—Chrissy Gardiner, knit designer and teacher, www.gardineryarnworks.com

Lydia Goetz

I couldn’t help worrying about Casey. Ever since she’d received that phone call from Lee she’d been withdrawn and, frankly, difficult. Some days were definitely better than others, but this morning was apparently destined to be a bad one. When I called Casey for breakfast, I heard her slamming things around her bedroom and when she finally deigned to show up, she didn’t so much as offer a greeting or even an acknowledgement. Now, sitting at the kitchen table, she slouched over her cereal bowl almost as if she was afraid someone would jerk it away. I tried talking to her and her responses, such as they were, came in the form of grunts and growls. My efforts were mostly ignored.

“Would you like to come to the yarn store with me?” I asked. Her classes were over, so her other option was day camp.

“I’m going in early, even though I have class tonight.” I don’t know why I bothered to explain.