Summer on Blossom Street

Page 6

Although Alix had never told her husband or her friends about the cigarettes, they all knew. She couldn’t hide the smell on her clothes, and the smoke clung to her hair, her hands. No one said anything. Jordan never chastised her or demanded she stop, but he wished she would, especially now that they were talking about starting a family.
Alix wanted to quit. It was important to give it up before she got pregnant. Jordan was due for a new job title and pay increase, and they’d decided it was the right time to become parents. While she longed for a baby, her fears nearly overwhelmed her. She had so many concerns. So many doubts. It wasn’t as if Alix had grown up with a good model of what a family ought to be. Her own mother was incarcerated at the women’s prison in Purdy. This wasn’t her f irst stint in jail, either. The mere thought of having a child thrilled her and terrif ied her in equal parts. Alix had no idea what kind of mother she’d be. Her own parents had been drunk most of the time. And when they drank, they fought.
As a child, Alix had often hidden in a closet where she lived with an imaginary family. In her make-believe world, she had a mother and father who loved each other and cherished her. She’d held on to that dream for years, escaping to a f ictional world because the real one had become increasingly violent. She was still in grade school when the state removed both Alix and her older brother from the family home. Between then and age sixteen, she’d drifted from one foster home to the next. Some weren’t so bad, but a few were dreadful. The only constant had been her brother. He’d died of a drug overdose while she was in her teens. As much as possible, she tried to put those terrible years behind her.
Despite all her misgivings, the prospect of having Jordan’s baby excited her. She decided she’d knit a special blanket for their yetto-be conceived child. That would show Jordan she was serious about quitting, too.
As she crossed the street to A Good Yarn, Alix noticed a sign in the window for a new knitting class. Knit to Quit. Alix had taken two of Lydia’s classes previously and enjoyed them both. More than that, she considered Lydia one of her dearest friends. Other than Jordan and her mentor, Jacqueline Donovan, Lydia was the person she conf ided in.
“Alix.” Lydia’s face lit up the instant Alix stepped inside. Whiskers, who’d been asleep in the window, extended his front paws and stretched his sleek back as he yawned, showing his pink gums and needle-sharp teeth.
“Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Alix walked over and gently scratched his ears. She loved Whiskers.
Lydia immediately hugged her. For a long time Alix hadn’t been comfortable with other people touching her. It still made her a little uneasy. Lydia was different, though, and she brief ly hugged her back.
“I hope you didn’t bring us any croissants,” Margaret said, joining them at the front of the store. “I’m watching my weight and those croissants are my weakness. Especially the almond ones.”
“Not to fear. We sold out.”
“Good.” Margaret sighed with relief. “What makes them so yummy, anyway?”
Alix answered her with a single word. “Butter.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “I should’ve known.”
“Actually I came for yarn,” Alix said. She was automatically drawn toward the DK-weight yarn in soft pastel colors. Lydia had displayed them in bins close to the cash register.
“Do you have a project in mind?” Lydia asked, following Alix’s gaze.
Alix felt funny telling others about the baby. But this was Lydia, so she f igured that made it okay. “It’s kind of a secret,” she began, “but Jordan and I are talking seriously about getting pregnant and I thought I should knit something for the baby.”
Margaret looked at Lydia. “I don’t suppose she happened to see the sign in the window.”
Lydia’s face f looded with irritation. “Margaret!”
“Well, Alix is smoking, isn’t she? All the evidence says it’s not good for a pregnant woman to smoke.”
“I know that,” Alix said, more defensively than she’d intended.
“You can talk directly to me, Margaret. I’m standing right here. Besides, I’m not pregnant yet—and I only smoke f ive cigarettes a day.”
“That’s f ive too many,” Margaret said emphatically. Margaret made overcoming an addiction sound simple.
“Quitting isn’t easy,” Alix said. “It’s not just a matter of willpower, you know.”
“I’ve never smoked,” Lydia returned in that calming way of hers. “But I’ve heard that cigarettes are as addictive as heroin. We’d love to have you in the class, Alix, if you’d care to join.”
The thought tempted her; still, she hesitated. “When is it?”
Lydia told her.
Alix decided to consider it. “What’s the project?”
Lydia’s classes were always interesting, not only the projects but the people who signed up. It was through that f irst knitting class that she’d met Jacqueline, who’d become both mentor and friend.
“I was thinking of having everyone work on a sampler scarf with a variety of patterns,” Lydia explained. “From what I can assess so far, everyone’s at a different skill level. The scarf shouldn’t be too difficult for a beginner but it’ll offer a bit of a challenge for more experienced knitters, too. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
A sampler scarf appealed to her. “How many people have signed up?”
“Just two so far, so there’s plenty of room.”
“What’s everyone quitting? Anyone else giving up smoking?”
Lydia shrugged. “Not that they said. And guess what? A man joined the class. His personal assistant found my ad in the phone directory.”
“A man?” That was intriguing. Apparently plenty of men were knitters, although they didn’t usually take classes. But then what did she know? She’d never actually met any and they had to learn somehow. So, why not a class?
“According to his assistant, he doesn’t currently knit.”
“What’s he quitting?”
Lydia looked uncertain. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t speak to him personally.”
“The lady who stopped in on Wednesday seemed almost distraught,” Margaret inserted. “She said something about a man, so I assume she’s either just out of a relationship or trying to end one.”
The group would certainly be varied, which made for a stimulating mix of ideas and personalities. “You know, it might not be a bad idea for me to do this. I’m going to need a scarf for this winter and I can work on the baby blanket when I’m f inished.”
Lydia smiled. “It would be wonderful to have you in one of my classes again.”
“It sure can’t hurt, especially if you’re sincere about giving up smoking,” Margaret put in.
Rather than take offense at Margaret’s attitude, Alix let her remark pass. Lydia’s sister didn’t have the ease with people or the engaging manner Lydia did, but she was a kindhearted person. A little critical, true—not that she was wrong in this instance. No matter what it took, Alix was quitting cigarettes once and for all. Alix lingered a while longer and purchased what she’d need for the class, then headed home to their cramped apartment. It was near the church, on a street off Blossom. They’d have to make other living arrangements before the baby arrived, since the apartment was barely big enough for two. She made a Cobb salad for dinner, with grilled chicken strips, blue cheese, hard-boiled eggs and sliced pickled beets, one of her favorite vegetables. Jordan liked turkey bacon on his, but she’d added that to the grocery list because they were out of it. Just as she was putting the f inishing touches on their dinner, Jordan walked in.
“Hi, sweetie,” he said, kissing her cheek. “How’d your day go?”
“Good.”
“Mine, too,” he told her. He sat down at their dining table.
“Have you got a moment to chat?” he asked.
A formal request like that wasn’t typical, so this must be important. “Of course,” she said. Jordan studied her as Alix left what she referred to as her alcove kitchen and sat down at the small table with the two chairs.
“Something wrong?” she inquired, feeling slightly nervous.
“Not really… It’s just that I got a call from my dad this afternoon. I must’ve spent an hour on the phone with him.”
Jordan and his father kept in close contact and spoke often, so the call in itself wasn’t unusual. “And?” she prodded.
“The family’s been trying to sell Grandma Turner’s house on the lake.”
That wasn’t new. After the funeral, the house had gone up for sale. The housing market was weak, and even lakefront properties weren’t selling. Grandma’s house was older, too. Alix felt the family was making a big mistake; she feared that in years to come they’d regret ever letting go of that wonderful home where Grandma Turner had spent her entire married life. Alix loved the old house with its expansive front yard and wide f lower beds. Grandma Turner had worked in her yard until the day before she died. She and Alix had developed a special friendship. Much of their time together was spent gardening, and the smell, the feel, of sun-warmed earth was something Alix would always associate with Sarah Turner. The older woman was everything she hoped to be one day: generous, gracious, accepting and loving. Not only had Jordan’s grandmother welcomed her into their family, but when Alix had been uncertain about going through with the wedding, Sarah had taken her in and sheltered her.
“Did the house sell?” Alix asked.
“Not yet.”
Her immediate reaction was a feeling of relief. The price had been lowered twice, but still no takers. What would’ve sold quickly as little as a year ago lingered on the market now.
“Dad doesn’t think it’s a good idea to leave the house vacant for so long.”
Alix agreed, but she was worried about renting it out. “Is he going to put it on the rental market?” she asked warily.
“Not exactly,” Jordan told her. “Dad suggested you and I move there until a buyer’s found.”
Alix nearly squealed with delight. Not once had the thought occurred to her and yet it was the perfect solution. “Jordan, I’d love that!” Their apartment was so tiny they had virtually no storage space. Wedding gifts had to be kept at his parents’ home because there was simply nowhere to put them. No similar enthusiasm showed in her husband’s eyes. “We need to think this through carefully, Alix. It sounds like a good idea now. I know you love the house, but there are complications.”
Alix was aware of those, but she didn’t care. Any inconvenience would be minimal compared to the benef its. “Well, sure, there are bound to be some changes,” she said. “For one thing, we’ll have to commute to the city every morning.”
“It’s more than that.” Jordan shook his head. “There’s no telling how soon it’ll be before someone makes an offer and the deal closes. Then we’d have to pack up and move out.”