Twenty Wishes (Blossom Street #5)(8)

“I’m sure you did—and then some.”

Lillie nodded. “I got on the Internet and found a Web site that showed the invoice price, and then broke out the dealer’s typical overheads and advertising costs.”

Anne Marie was more impressed by the minute. “You really did your research.”

“My dear, you can find out just about anything on the Internet.” She raised her eyebrows. “I also discovered that the dealer cost includes a holdback for profit.” Lillie smiled roguishly as she continued her story. “The salesman was a charming fellow, I will say that. He expected to walk away with a substantial commission check, but I quickly disavowed him of that notion.”

Anne Marie stared at her, astonished. “How did you do it?”

“We started negotiating and I had him at the point of accepting my offer when I remembered that dealers sometimes get incentives and rebates on cars sold.”

“You mentioned that, too?”

“Darn right I did and he agreed to my terms.”

“Lillie, congratulations.” Anne Marie had no idea the older woman had such a head for business. As far as she was aware, Lillie hadn’t worked a day in her life, or at least not outside the home. In many ways Barbie was a younger version of her mother. Both women had married young, and each had chosen a husband ten or so years her senior. That was something Anne Marie had in common with them; the fact that they were both mothers was not. They’d promptly delivered the requisite child, in Barbie’s case, twin sons. If Anne Marie recalled correctly, the Foster boys, Eric and Kurt, were enrolled in separate East Coast schools—very elite ones, naturally.

“It feels so good to drive a vehicle I negotiated for myself,” Lillie said. “And this came about because of you.”

“Really, I just made an offhand comment.”

“It’s more than purchasing my own car,” she said, as though Anne Marie hadn’t spoken, “it was managing everything myself instead of handing the task over to someone else. I’ve always felt I could be a good businesswoman if I’d been given the opportunity.” She rubbed her hand over the arc of the steering wheel. “No one seemed to consider me capable of running my own affairs. Ironically, the person I needed to convince most was me. Thanks to you, I did.”

Anne Marie felt a bit uncomfortable; Lillie was giving her far more credit than she deserved.

“Come on,” Lillie said. “Get in.”

Swinging open the passenger door, Anne Marie climbed into the convertible and fastened her seat belt.

Lillie gripped the steering wheel tightly, throwing back her head. “I have to tell you, I’m really getting into this Twenty Wishes thing.”

“I am, too,” Anne Marie said. “When you phoned I was in the middle of making a scrapbook, a page for each wish. I’m going to cut out magazine pictures to visualize them and to document the various steps.”

Lillie turned to smile at her. “What a great idea.”

The praise encouraged her and Anne Marie quickly went on to describe the craft-store supplies she’d purchased. “I don’t have much of a list as yet, but I’m working on it. How about you?”

Lillie was silent for a moment. “I’ve decided I want to fall in love.” She spoke with a determination Anne Marie had never heard from her.

“Barbie said the same thing at our Valentine’s party,” Anne Marie pointed out.

“I know.”

Anne Marie waited.

“I’ve had plenty of men ask me out,” Lillie told her. “I don’t mean to sound egotistical, but I’m not interested in most of them.”

Anne Marie nodded, not surprised that “plenty of men” would find Lillie attractive.

“I’ve learned a thing or two in the last sixty-odd years,” Lillie was saying, “and I’m not as impressed with riches or connections as I once was. When I fall in love, I want it to be with a man of integrity. Someone who’s decent and kind and—” She paused as though searching for the right word. “Honorable. I want to fall in love with an honorable man.” She seemed embarrassed at having spoken her wish aloud, and leaned forward to start the engine. “As you might’ve guessed, my marriage—unlike my daughter’s—wasn’t a particularly good one. I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made when I was younger.” The car roared to life, then purred with the sound of a flawlessly tuned engine.

Checking behind her, Lillie backed out of the parking space on Blossom Street. From there they headed toward the freeway on-ramp. Lillie proposed a drive through the Kent Valley and along the Green River, and Anne Marie agreed.

Closing her eyes, Anne Marie let the cold February wind sweep past her. Lillie turned on the radio just as the DJ announced a hit from the late 1960s. Soon she was crooning along to The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind.” Anne Marie remembered her mother singing that song as a girl. Perhaps it was unusual to find herself good friends with a woman who was her mother’s contemporary. Sadly, although Anne Marie was an only child, she and her mother weren’t close. Her parents had divorced when she was in sixth grade, and the bitterness, especially on her mother’s part, had lingered through the years. It didn’t help that Anne Marie resembled her father. She’d had little contact with him after the divorce, and he died in a boating accident on Lake Washington when she was twenty-five. Her mother had never remarried.