The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(50)

“One at a time, ladies,” the first officer said, holding up his hand. He was young and clean-cut and reminded her of her son. Paul would be outraged when he learned she’d nearly been mugged.

The officer started with Jacqueline and when he’d finished, he asked Alix a few questions and finally Lydia. Each woman described the men in slightly different ways, although Alix seemed reluctant to discuss the matter. At first she didn’t reveal their names, but if Alix had forgotten, Jacqueline hadn’t.

With their descriptions known, plus their first names, it made sense that the two hoodlums would be apprehended shortly. Jacqueline had already decided to press charges. All the while she was speaking, she clutched her Gucci bag with both hands.

“You two know each other?” the patrolman asked, glancing from Jacqueline to Alix.

“Of course,” Jacqueline said. “We’re taking knitting classes together.”

“Yeah,” Alix muttered, and defiantly tilted her chin in their direction as if daring him to challenge her. “Jacqueline and I are friends.”

“She saved me from God knows what,” Jacqueline murmured.

The officer shook his head. “It would’ve been smarter just to give them your purse.”

Jacqueline knew he was right. All the survival manuals stated that in such a situation, the best course of action was to drop the purse and run.

Once the policemen had left, Jacqueline looked over at Alix who remained seated at the table across from her. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You owe me.”

Jacqueline nodded in full agreement. She still wasn’t sure what had led Alix into the alley. When questioned by the police she explained that she’d seen Jacqueline go in there and didn’t think it was a safe place for her friend to be. So she’d followed her. And Jacqueline would be forever grateful that she had.

Her one concern was that she owed Alix now. She could only speculate what the girl would want as payment.

CHAPTER 24

CAROL GIRARD

T he two days following the IVF procedure had been the worst. The specialist had instructed Carol to stay perfectly still for forty-eight hours. The enforced rest got on her nerves after only a few hours, but with every breath she drew, with every solid beat of her heart, she made herself think positive, nurturing thoughts.

She was all too aware that she was at the very end of the road, technologically speaking, for a biological child. She and Doug had decided this was it. They got their three chances through the insurance company and two of them were gone. IVF was expensive, time-consuming, unpredictable and uncertain. Correction, some aspects of the procedure were a certainty. Injections, frequent bloodwork and ultrasounds. She’d been poked and prodded so often she barely noticed it anymore.

Carol refused to allow herself to dwell on any of the negatives. This time she’d have her baby. This time at least one of the fertilized eggs implanted in her womb would take hold—and she’d keep the pregnancy. Nine months from now, she’d hold a baby in her arms and experience the joy that had been denied her all these years.

Doug had been wonderful. He’d done everything possible to make her comfortable. Still, Carol recognized the look in his eyes, the longing that went un-spoken, and the fear that despite everything, they couldn’t, wouldn’t, have a child. This wasn’t easy for Doug and while he tried to hide it, Carol knew he was worried. So was she.

Thinking positive had grown more difficult by the second day, especially with Doug tiptoeing around her. The argument that flared between them that dreadful evening was neither her fault nor his; it was an explosion of emotion and frustration. Doug had stormed out of the house and didn’t return until after midnight. Carol was relieved he hadn’t been driving, because she smelled alcohol on his breath when he returned.

They made up the next morning, just as she’d known they would, and Doug had left for work after downing two cups of coffee and refusing breakfast. Now they had to wait, three weeks to be sure of the pregnancy and three months to be confident about it. By then their patience would be even more frayed.

Ten days after the procedure, Lydia phoned. This was the first time she’d called Carol at home and it was good to hear a friendly voice.

“I haven’t heard from you and was wondering how you’re doing,” Lydia said.

“Great.” The high-pitched burst of enthusiasm betrayed her.

“I mean, how are you really feeling?” Lydia murmured.

“Not so great,” Carol admitted. “Oh, Lydia, this is hard. Right now, it’s a waiting game, and both Doug and I are so tense.”

“Let me take you to lunch, and we’ll talk.”

Lunch out sounded divine, but she knew Lydia had responsibilities. “What about the shop?”

“I’ve already talked to Mom, and she’s going to come here for a couple of hours. Would you like to meet on the waterfront? It’s such a perfect day for it.”

Carol agreed. The sun was out and Puget Sound was an intense sapphire blue. Nothing would please her more than to get away from the condo for a few hours.

They chose a restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall place that specialized in fish and chips, scallops and shrimp dishes. By the time Carol arrived, Lydia had already obtained a table on the patio. The breeze off the water had the briny scent of sea air. Seagulls shrieked in their usual exuberant way. The white-topped peaks of the Olympics glowed in the distance and a Washington State ferry was docked at the pier close by. It was everything Carol loved about living in the Pacific Northwest.