The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(4)

My older sister snickered. I’ve always hated that scoffing sound and had to grit my teeth in order to hide my reaction.

“I’m just getting ready to post a sign for my first knitting class.”

“Do you seriously think a handmade sign taped in the window is going to draw people into your store?” Margaret demanded. “Parking is a nightmare out there and even when the street’s open again, you can’t expect much traffic through this construction mess.”

“No, but—”

“I wish you well, but—”

“Do you?” I asked, cutting her off. My hands shook as I walked over to the display window and secured my notice for knitting classes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I turned to face my sister who, at five foot six, stood a good three inches taller than me. She outweighed me by about twenty pounds, too. Looking at us now, I wonder if anyone would guess we were related and yet when we were small we resembled each other quite a bit.

“I think you want me to fail,” I said honestly.

“That isn’t true! I came this morning because…because I’m interested in what you’re doing.” Her chin went up a notch as if she was daring me to challenge her again. “How old are you? Twenty-nine, thirty?”

“Thirty.”

“Isn’t it time you cut the apron strings?”

That was blatantly unfair. “I’m trying to do exactly that. I left Mom’s house and I moved into the apartment upstairs. I’ve started my own business, too, and I’d appreciate your support.”

She turned her hands over to display her palms. “Do you want me to buy yarn from you? Is that what you want? You know I don’t knit and have no desire to learn. I much prefer to crochet. And—”

“Just this once,” I said, cutting her off a second time, “couldn’t you think of one nice thing to say?” I waited, silently pleading with her to search inside her heart for at least a token word of encouragement.

My request seemed to be an overwhelming task for Margaret. She faltered for several seconds. “You have a good eye for color,” she finally said. She gestured toward the display of yarn I’d arranged on the table by the door.

“Thank you,” I said, hoping to sound gracious. I didn’t mention that I’d used a color wheel to create the display. Hard as it was for Margaret to offer me praise, I certainly wasn’t going to give her an opportunity to withdraw it.

Had we been closer, I would’ve told her the real reason I’d decided to open a yarn store. This shop was my affirmation of life. I was willing to invest everything I had to make it a success. Like the Viking conqueror who came ashore and burned his ships behind him, I had set my course. Succeed or go under.

As my father might say, I was taking responsibility for a future I couldn’t predict.

The bell above the door chimed again. I had a customer! My first real customer.

CHAPTER 2

JACQUELINE DONOVAN

T he angry exchange of words with her married son had distressed Jacqueline Donovan. She’d honestly tried to keep her negative feelings regarding her daughter-in-law to herself. But when Paul phoned to tell her Tammie Lee was five and a half months pregnant, Jacqueline had lost her temper and said things she shouldn’t have. Paul had hung up in mid-rant.

To complicate everything, her husband had phoned soon afterward, asking her to drop off blueprints at the construction site on Blossom Street. The argument with Paul weighing on her mind, she’d confessed what she’d said and now Reese was upset with her, too. Truth be told, she didn’t much care what her husband thought, but Paul, her only child—now, that was a different story.

Feeling anxious and depressed, Jacqueline drove down to the job site and wasted twenty minutes finding a parking space. Needless to say, the one she found was quite a distance down the street, across from a seedy-looking video store. Clutching the blueprints, she picked her way through the construction mess, muttering under her breath. Just leave it to Reese to screw up her entire day!

“You brought the drawings?” Her husband of thirty-three years walked out of the trailer to meet her as she neared the site. Jacqueline stepped over steel tubes, trying not to dirty or damage her Ferragamo heels. Her husband’s architectural firm, Donovan and Gray, was responsible for this renovation project. Dressed in a Brooks Brothers suit and a hard hat, Reese was still a good-looking man at fifty-nine.

Jacqueline handed him the all-important set of rolled-up prints. It was unusual for Reese to ask anything of her, which suited her perfectly. He set the prints inside the trailer and turned back to face her, standing just outside the door.

“I’m worried about Paul,” she said, doing her best to maintain her composure. Reese gave a tired shrug. He worked long hours and Jacqueline pretended to believe that all the time he spent away from home was business-related. She knew otherwise. So if he was tired, she certainly wasn’t going to sympathize.

For the sake of Paul and their friends, Jacqueline and Reese managed to put up a good front, but the marriage hadn’t been happy for a number of years. Reese had his life and she had hers. They hadn’t slept together since Paul left for college twelve years ago. In fact, there was very little they shared except their love for their son.

“So Tammie Lee is pregnant,” her husband said, ignoring her concern.