The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(55)

When Alix lost sight of Jordan, she moved closer to the railing. Jordan skated past and waved. It didn’t take long for the church kids to notice the attention he paid Alix. Several stopped to look at her and chat among themselves. Alix ignored them.

“Is Jordan your friend?” a girl asked. She couldn’t be more than thirteen, with perfect dark hair and olive skin. Another girl, a blonde in braces, stood beside her.

Alix nodded.

“He mentioned you,” Blondie said.

Okay, so Alix was curious. “What did he say?”

The other girl answered. “Jordan said he’d invited a friend to join him. He said you used to be his valentine.”

Alix shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“He’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” Blondie said.

Alix shrugged again. Anything she said was sure to get back to Jordan.

“Aren’t you going to skate?” the first girl asked.

“Maybe later.”

Jordan went around the rink at least a dozen times, then pleaded fatigue and glided over to stand next to Alix. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been around.”

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

She almost hadn’t, but she didn’t mention the reason.

“You’ve never skated before, have you?”

“Every kid’s skated,” she returned, rather than confess the truth.

An hour later, Alix was wearing a pair of skates. Before she knew it, her two newfound friends had convinced her to give it a try. Once Alix had on the skates, the girls led her into the rink, each holding one of her hands.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to let you fall,” the blond girl promised.

The girls gripped her fingers hard enough for Alix to believe it.

She shouldn’t have.

Two feet onto the slick wooden floor, Alix started flailing. Not ten seconds later, she was flat on her butt. She didn’t have a chance to even think before Jordan came up behind her and tucked his arms under hers, swooping her upright.

“Everyone falls.” Then with his arm around her waist and his free hand holding hers, they made one full circuit of the rink. Kids whizzed past them at speeds that made Alix dizzy. She didn’t look. Couldn’t look. She needed all her concentration to remain upright.

“This isn’t so hard.” She was starting to get the feel of it. Despite herself she laughed. It was as if she were six years old again and Santa had delivered that pair of roller skates, after all.

“Cherie says you’re cool.”

Alix didn’t care what the little blond girl thought. “What do you say?” she asked Jordan.

He grinned down at her. “I think you’re pretty cool, too.”

His words were more beautiful than any music she’d ever heard.

CHAPTER 26

“People who say they don’t have enough patience to knit are precisely those who could most improve their lives by learning how!”

—Sally Melville, author of The Knitting Experience series

LYDIA HOFFMAN

T his has been quite a week. It’s unheard of for me to have two social engagements within the same seven-day period. My lunch on Wednesday with Carol did so much good—for both of us. I feel I connected with her and extended a hand of friendship. She responded, and I’m confident we’ll stay in touch, whether or not she continues to knit.

The class earlier this afternoon was the best yet. Following the incident in the back alley, Alix and Jacqueline were cordial and just shy of friendly. Jacqueline relayed the details of the confrontation in minute detail, with Alix leaping in to add comments. Anyone looking at them would think they were longtime friends.

When I asked Jacqueline how her husband had reacted when she told him about the incident, she’d gone suspiciously quiet. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I have the feeling all is not well between Jacqueline and Reese Donovan.

The class flew by, and then I was seeing Brad for drinks. We were meeting at The Pour House for a beer at six after I’d closed for the day. Despite the drizzle we’d had intermittently since early morning, I was in a great mood.

The Pour House was about two blocks off Blossom, and seemed to be a popular hangout for the after-work crowd. The noise level was high with music blaring from a jukebox, high-spirited laughter and a television above the bar, which had a ball game on. I’m not very interested in sports, but I know lots of men are. Between the noise and the room’s darkness, I felt a bit disoriented.

Brad had found a booth near the back, and when he saw me, he stood, waving his arms over his head. I smiled and waved back, then quickly made my way across the room, negotiating tables and chairs.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,” he said as he slid back into the booth.

“Am I late?” I glanced at my watch, and was surprised to see that it was almost fifteen minutes past six. I shook the rain off my jacket and Brad hung it up for me.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, but I’ve only got half an hour or so. The day care teacher said she’d keep Cody until seven-fifteen but not a minute longer and it takes me at least twenty minutes to get there.”

“How old is your son?”

“Eight. He keeps telling me he’s too old to be in day care, but I’m not letting him stay by himself all day.” Judging by Brad’s frown, I guessed this had been a frequent argument over the summer. “Sometimes I swear that kid’s eight going on eighteen.”