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Make time for friends. Make time for Debbie Macomber.

CEDAR COVE

16 Lighthouse Road

204 Rosewood Lane

311 Pelican Court

44 Cranberry Point

50 Harbor Street

6 Rainier Drive

74 Seaside Avenue

8 Sandpiper Way

92 Pacific Boulevard

BLOSSOM STREET

The Shop on Blossom Street

A Good Yarn

Susannah’s Garden

(previously published as Old Boyfriends) Back on Blossom Street (previously published as Wednesdays at Four) Twenty Wishes Summer on Blossom Street Hannah’s List

Thursdays at Eight

Christmas in Seattle

Falling for Christmas

A Mother’s Gift

A Turn in the Road

Debbie Macomber

www.mirabooks.co.uk

With heartfelt appreciation to Nancy Berland

who has helped me navigate every turn in the road

in my publishing career

Dear Friends,

My husband, Wayne, and I love road trips. Because we have two homes, one in Washington State and the other in Florida, we drive back and forth twice a year. In case you’re interested, that’s 3,323 miles, door to door. Wayne plans the route and we’ve visited nearly every state between Washington and Florida. Perhaps because of that, I’ve always wanted to write a book that involved a cross-country drive.

Since I first wrote A Good Yarn, which introduced the character Bethanne Hamlin, she’s been on my mind. When her husband left her and their family for a younger woman, Bethanne was devastated and eventually joined a knitting class as a kind of therapy. The friends she made in Lydia’s yarn store helped her deal with the abrupt change in her life.

The idea for Bethanne’s party business actually came from my daughter, Jenny Adele, who held a wonderfully creative party for our oldest grandson when he turned eight. They were living on a one-family income, so money was tight. Using her imagination and playing on Cameron’s interest in the army, she mailed out draft notices as party invitations. Then my son-in-law designed an obstacle course on their property. Adding to the fun, my oldest son, Ted, a former Army Ranger, provided camouflage makeup and MREs. The boys had the time of their lives and the entire party cost little more than a cake mix and a few stamps.

I was proud of Bethanne and the success of her business and I wanted to do more with this character. I didn’t like Grant, her ex-husband, the first time around, but when he reappeared in A Turn in the Road he was much more sympathetic. He’s recognised his mistake and wants his family back. This is a difficult decision for Bethanne. As it happens, she has an opportunity to travel across the country with her daughter and her ex-mother-in-law. Three generations of women each facing … a turn in the road. By the way, if you’re a committed film buff, you may notice that I’ve moved the release date of Breakfast at Tiffany’s forward by a few months. I took this liberty because—well, frankly, it worked for the story.

As always, I’m eager to hear from my readers. You can reach me in two ways: either by logging on to my website at www.DebbieMacomber.com and signing the guestbook, or by contacting me at PO Box 1458, Port Orchard, WA 98366, USA.

Warmly,

One

“I think Dad wants to get back together.” Bethanne’s daughter, Annie, spoke with studied nonchalance. “He still loves you, Mom.”

Bethanne’s spoon hovered over her bowl of soup as they sat at a window table in theirfavorite café. This wasn’t actually news and shouldn’t have come as any surprise. Didn’t come as any surprise. She’d seen the signs, as recently as this morning. These days Grant was inventing excuses to call her.

Six years ago her world had imploded when her husband confessed that he’d fallen in love with another woman. With barely a backward glance, Grant had walked out—out of their home, their marriage, their lives. And now he wanted back in.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Annie asked, toying with her fork. She watched her mother intently.

“Not really.” She swallowed the soup and lowered her spoon for another taste.

Annie, it seemed, had forgotten. But not Bethanne.

The morning Grant told her he wanted a divorce would stay in her mind forever. He couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough. He’d retained a lawyer and advised her to do the same, then coldly informed her that all future communication would be through their lawyers. The less contact with her and their children, the better, he’d said. A clean break was best.

Grant’s decision had struck Bethanne with the force and unpredictability of a hurricane. She’d stumbled blindly through the next few months, trying to hold her family together, clinging to the semblance of normality while her world disintegrated around her. “You really don’t have anything to say?” Annie prodded.

“No,” Bethanne said shortly. She swallowed another spoonful of soup and reached for the herb scone. “What disturbs me is that your father would let you do his talking for him.”

Annie had the grace to look chastened, but she pushed her food away as if she’d suddenly lost her appetite.

At one time Bethanne had dreamed Grant would regret what he’d done, that he’d seek her forgiveness and come crawling back to her. She’d wanted him to suffer for the way he’d treated her, for the hurt he’d inflicted when he’d turned his back on their children.

But in the years since the divorce, Bethanne had gradually found her footing and, in the process, discovered a self she didn’t know existed—a stronger, independent Bethanne, a woman forged in the fire of despair. Now her two children were on their own; her oldest, Andrew, was engaged to be married in a few weeks, following his graduation from law school. As for her daughter, Annie was a year from obtaining her MBA. She worked part-time with Bethanne on the creative end of the party business Bethanne had established in the wake of her divorce.

During her twenty years of marriage, Bethanne had become known for her lavish and inventive parties. She’d taken pride in making Grant look good by hosting unforgettable events for clients and potential clients—an invitation to Grant’s home became a sought-after privilege in certain circles. Her birthday parties for Andrew and Annie were legendary. But never once had she dreamed that her party-giving skills would eventually be parlayed into such a success.

She’d started the business, which she called simply Parties, as a way of making enough money to continue living in their family home, although she’d had to take out a substantial second mortgage to get Parties off the ground. Grant had paid the required support, but depending on that would’ve meant moving to a smaller house in a different neighborhood. If ever her children needed stability, she knew, it was in the period after the divorce. She’d since paid off both mortgages.

To Bethanne’s astonishment, the business had taken off immediately. She’d started small, with themed birthday parties for children. The Alice in Wonderland Tea Party had been the most popular of the dozens of concepts she’d created. With busy schedules, parents were looking for an easy, economical way to make birthday parties special. Bethanne’s company had filled that need.

Currently, there were five Parties stores in the Seattle area, including the original location, and she was considering a deal that offered national franchising opportunities. The key was to keep the ideas fresh and the prices reasonable. This past winter she’d added a “birthday party in a box”—more scaled-down, do-it-yourself versions of her trademarked theme parties.

A year earlier Bethanne had hired Julia Hayden as her corporate operations manager. Julia was efficient, dedicated and gifted. She loved the job and had begun overseeing the company’s day-to-day activities, freeing Bethanne to focus on creative development. Annie worked with her, and the two of them had recently developed birthday party ideas for cats and dogs, which was now a popular trend, especially among childless, affluent professionals. They’d expanded into other types of parties, too—anniversary and retirement celebrations, Christmas and even Halloween events.

Bethanne signaled for the check, and they went their separate ways with a quick hug and a wave. Annie was walking back to the office, while Bethanne headed for Blossom Street and A Good Yarn. Knitting had become one of her favourite activities. When she needed to think, nothing helped more than sitting down with a knitting project. She felt a sense of happy anticipation as she parked in front of the yarn store, which was owned by her dear friend Lydia Goetz.

With the wedding only six weeks away, she’d wanted to knit something for Courtney, her almost-daughter-in-law, to wear during the wedding.

The wedding. It was why Grant had called her two weeks ago—their son’s marriage had given him a legitimate excuse—and he’d called twice since then, including this morning.

Other than the occasional joint decisions they’d made regarding their children, they’d had little personal contact since the divorce. Then Grant had phoned her with a question about a wedding gift for Andrew and Courtney. He’d been friendly and relaxed. And this week, he’d asked her to dinner.

Dinner. She and Grant. After six years?

She’d heard from Annie that his marriage to Tiffany had ended in divorce the previous year—after a brief separation—and felt genuinely sorry for him. This was a second divorce for Tiffany, as well. In fact, Bethanne had briefly dated Paul, Tiffany’s first husband, shortly after the divorce, although date wasn’t exactly the right word. They’d been more of a two-person support group, helping each other grapple with their betrayal by the people they loved.

Unfortunately, Andrew’s relationship with his father remained cool. Her son had met his father’s desertion with a bitter resolve that only seemed to harden as he grew older. Andrew was polite but kept an emotional distance from Grant.

For Annie, sixteen at the time, the divorce had been nothing short of devastating. Always a “daddy’s girl,” she’d acted out her shock and pain as only a willful teenager can. Annie blamed Tiffany for stealing her father away and had done everything she could to sabotage the marriage. But Bethanne was also a target for her rage during those early months. Annie had railed at her for being too “boring” and “clueless” to keep her father happy. Bethanne had never responded to Annie’s accusations about her failures as a wife, afraid to reveal how close to home her words had hit. Eventually, Annie had adjusted to the new reality, although she still referred to Grant’s second wife in sarcastic tones as “the lovely Tiffany.”

Bethanne thought about her conversation with him that morning. His excuse for calling this time was so flimsy Bethanne couldn’t even remember what it was. He’d kept her on the line, relating office gossip as if she was still intimately familiar with the goings-on at his workplace. After several minutes of chatter, he reminded her that she hadn’t given him a definite answer regarding his dinner invitation.

“Grant,” she’d said bluntly. “Why are you doing this?”

For a moment there was silence on the other end. When he spoke, any hints of lightheartedness were gone. “I made a mistake, Bethanne.” His voice caught, and for once he seemed at a loss for words. “A major one.” He left the rest unsaid, but she knew what he meant. He wanted things back the way they used to be.

Well, good luck with that. Bethanne wasn’t the same naive woman he’d divorced, and she wasn’t interested in retracing her steps.

After six years on her own, she’d discovered she didn’t want or need a man complicating her life. Years ago she’d read somewhere that “it takes a hell of a man to replace no man.” At first, that remark had seemed merely humorous; she hadn’t completely understood what it meant. She did now.

While she was flattered that Grant wanted to reconcile, the situation wasn’t that simple. He’d had his chance. He was the one who’d deserted her, who’d left her floundering and shaken. Without ever thinking about the consequences of his actions, he’d ripped apart their family, betrayed her and their children, robbed them all of their security.

Now he was sorry. Fine. He’d seen the error of his ways and realized what a terrible mistake he’d made.

So of course he wanted her back. She was a successful businesswoman with a growing company that received lots of media and corporate interest. In six short years she’d made a name for herself. She’d been interviewed by Forbes and the Wall Street Journal. A piece had been written about her in USA Today. Her ex had his nerve.

Contrition was all well and good. Bethanne felt a certain vindication in hearing Grant admit how wrong he’d been, a certain sense of righteousness. She’d forgiven him to the best of her ability, refusing to let herself be trapped in the mire of resentment. He had a new life and so did she. But forgiveness, she’d learned, was tricky. Just when she felt sure she was beyond rancor, she’d find herself wallowing in indignation. Like the night three years ago when the pipe burst in the basement and she couldn’t figure out where to turn off the water. If Grant had been there he would’ve known what to do. By the time she found the tap she’d been shaking with anger, and as unreasonable as it seemed, she’d blamed Grant. This was all his fault. He should’ve been there. How dared he do this to her and, worse, to their children!.

She should reject his invitation, she told herself now. Laugh in his face. Tell him to take a hike.

To her astonishment she couldn’t.

It had taken courage for Grant to approach her, courage and, yes, nerve. She’d give him that. Crazy though it might be, Bethanne realized she still had feelings for Grant, feelings she’d pushed aside for the past few years. She didn’t love him, not in the all-consuming way she had when theywere married. Back then, she’d been blind to his flaws and his weaknesses, blind to what should’ve been obvious, especially after he’d started the affair. His betrayal had revealedthat the man she’d married was selfish and shallow. And yet he hadn’t always been like that. She couldn’t forget the companionship—and the passion—of their early years together…

She loved him.

She hated him.

Both emotions warred within her.

“Dinner for old times’ sake,” he’d almost pleaded. “Besides, we need to talk about Andrew’s wedding.”

Six years ago Bethanne had been desperate for him to come home. Her pride was gone. What she’d craved was exactly what Grant wanted now—for everything to go back to the way it had been. At the time she’d believed she could fix whatever was wrong. They’d been happy, and could be again.

When it became apparent that his affair with Tiffany wasn’t a fling and Grant fully intended to go through with the divorce, an all-consuming rage had taken root. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. At night she lay awake plotting revenge. One day Grant would be sorry. He’d beg her to take him back and she’d laugh in his face. He would pay for what he’d done.

Then, several months after the divorce was finalized, she woke with that familiar ugly feeling in the pit of her stomach and realized this corrosive, soul-destroying bitterness couldn’t continue. As the saying had it, the best revenge was living well—living a successful, independent life. So Bethanne had dedicated herself to her business.

Gradually, she’d stopped thinking about Grant. She embraced her new life, her new identity. Indirectly, she had Grant to thank for her flourishing business, her circle of loyal new friends, for the strength and confidence she’d never known she had. It felt odd to her now that she’d once been content to be simply Grant’s wife, looking after his social affairs and staying in the background.

Dinner for old times’ sake? Just the two of them?

In the years since the divorce, Bethanne had dated a number of men. Besides Tiffany’s ex, a couple of them stood out in her mind. But she’d been so focused on building her business that neither relationship had lasted more than six months. She wasn’t ready or willing to make a serious commitment to anyone. Those relationships, albeit short, had boosted her depleted ego. She’d enjoyed them but she wasn’t looking for a long-term commitment.

Bethanne had concluded their phone call without giving Grant an answer. She needed to ponder her ex-husband’s newfound contrition, and there was no more effective way of doing that than knitting. It was both productive and contemplative; you created something while you meditated on your problems. That was why she’d stopped at Lydia’s—to pick up yarn for the elegant finger-less gloves she’d make for Courtney’s wedding.

Lydia glanced up from the display she was working on and smiled when Bethanne entered the store. “You got my message! The cashmere yarn’s in.”

Bethanne smiled back. “I can hardly wait to get started.” Knitting had seen her through the darkest days of her life. Annie was the one who’d signed her up for classes, because even dialing the phone number for the yarn store was more than she could manage back then; the smallest tasks had seemed insurmountable. In retrospect, Bethanne knew she’d fallen into a dangerous depression.

Annie had enrolled Bethanne in a beginners’ sock-knitting class. Meeting the other women had been a turning point for her. Her new friends gave her courage and the determination to emerge from her ordeal a stronger woman. Not only that, it was through the knitting class that she’d met Elise, and through Elise, Maverick. He’d ended up being the “angel” who’d helped her launch Parties. Her classmates had reminded Bethanne that she wasn’t alone, rebuilding her confidence one stitch at a time.

That class was the beginning of Bethanne’s new life. And Part Two turned out to be better than Part One had ever been. Was it possible to knit the two halves together again? Did she want to?

“The pattern isn’t difficult,” Lydia told her as she brought the yarn to the cash register. “Once you do a couple of repeats, I’m sure you won’t have a problem, but if you do, just stop by and I’ll help you figure it out.”

Bethanne paid for the purchase, grateful that Lydia had wound the yarn, saving her the effort. At first, she’d considered knitting Courtney’s veil, but there wasn’t time. Although a bit disappointed, she knew fingerless gloves were a far more manageable project. Her hope was that the gloves would be beautiful enough to become a family heirloom, passed down from one generation to the next.

“Alix was in this week and brought Tommy with her,” Lydia said as she handed Bethanne the yarn. “You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown. It’s hard to believe he’s nearly a year old.”

Alix, a friend of theirs, was employed as a baker at the French Café across the street. “She’s gone back to work?”

Lydia nodded. “Just part-time. Now with Winter pregnant … there must be something in the water over there.” Lydia grinned. “Or the coffee.”

So many changes on Blossom Street, and all of them good.

“How’s Casey?” Bethanne asked about Lydia’s adopted daughter. A couple of months before, when Casey turned thirteen, Bethanne had planned her birthday party.

“Casey’s fine,” Lydia assured her. “She had a few academic challenges and will be attending summer school again. It’s not the end of the world but Casey tends to get down on herself. We’re working on that.” Lydia leaned against the counter. “The poor kid came to us with a lot of baggage.”

“No doubt about that.” Bethanne had to admire Brad and Lydia for opening their hearts and their home to the troubled girl.

“It helps that she’s so close to my mother… My biggest fear is what’ll happen once Mom is gone,” Lydia said, her voice subdued.

“Is your mother doing okay?”

Lydia rubbed her eyes. “Not really.” She gave a small, hopeless shrug. “She’s declining, and that’s so hard to watch. You know, she sometimes forgets who I am but she always remembers Casey. I think it’s one of those small miracles. It makes Casey feel important and loved, which she is. Everyone at the assisted-living complex adores Casey. I wouldn’t be surprised if they hired her once she’s old enough to have a job. Her patience with Mom and Mom’s friends is amazing. She loves hearing their stories.”

Bethanne nodded sympathetically.

“No one seems to have enough time for the elderly anymore….” Lydia shook her head. “I’m guilty of rushing visits myself, but not Casey. She sits and listens for hours and never seems to get impatient, even when Mom repeats the same story over and over again.”

“And Margaret?” Bethanne noticed that Lydia’s older sister, who often worked with her, wasn’t in the store.

“She took the day off. Wednesdays are slow, and she had a dentist’s appointment at eleven. I told her to enjoy the afternoon.”

Margaret was a store fixture and so different from Lydia that new customers often didn’t realize they were sisters. Margaret was good-hearted but tended to be gruff and opinionated, and took a bit of getting used to. “How’s business going?” she ventured, aware that she was the only person in the store at the moment.

“Surprisingly well.” Lydia cheered visibly. “People turn to domestic pursuits during recessions, and lots of people want to knit these days.”

“Have you talked to Anne Marie and Ellen since they moved?”

Lydia returned to arranging the yarn display. “Practically every day. Ellen didn’t want to leave Blossom Street but I see her as much as ever. She has plenty of friends in her new neighborhood and has definitely made the adjustment.”

“I’m so happy for her.” A young widow, Anne Marie had adopted the girl after volunteering at a local grade school. Although Lydia had never said so, Bethanne knew that Ellen’s adoption had influenced her and Brad to make Casey part of their family.

“Do you have a few minutes for tea?” Lydia asked.

Bethanne checked her watch. “Sorry, no, I’m on my way to the office. I’m supposed to meet with Julia.”

“Soon, then.” Lydia waved as Bethanne opened the door.

“Soon,” Bethanne promised.

“Stop by if you have any trouble with that pattern,” she called over her shoulder.

“I will.”

As she unlocked her car, Bethanne looked over at the French Café and was startled to see her ex-mother-in-law, Ruth Hamlin, sitting at an outside table eating her lunch.

Despite the divorce, Bethanne had a warm relationship with Ruth. For her children’s sake she’d kept in touch with Grant’s mother and his younger sister, Robin. But as Lydia had so recently reminded her, no one had enough time for older people anymore. Bethanne felt guilty as charged. She rarely saw Ruth these days, and it had been several weeks since they’d talked.

Ruth had been horrified by Grant’s decision to walk away from his family. She hadn’t been shy about letting her son know her feelings, either. She’d always been generous and supportive to Bethanne, making her feel like a beloved daughter in every way. Ruth had stood at Bethanne’s side through the divorce proceedings, convinced that Grant would one day realize his mistake.

Bethanne rushed impulsively across the street. She really didn’t have time and the ever-punctual Julia would be waiting. As it was, Bethanne had spent far longer with Lydia than she’d intended. In addition, she had a tight afternoon schedule that included a meeting with her managers. But Bethanne was determined to make time for the woman who’d once been such an enormous encouragement to her.

“Ruth?”

Her mother-in-law looked up from her soup and sandwich plate and instantly broke into a smile. “Bethanne, my goodness, I never expected to see you here.”

The two women hugged. “I was picking up some yarn I ordered. What are you doing in this neighborhood?” Bethanne pulled out the chair opposite Ruth’s and sat down.

Her mother-in-law placed both hands in her lap. “Robin suggested we meet here for lunch. It’s not that far from the courthouse, but you know Robin …”

“Has she left already?” Bethanne looked around, then down at Ruth’s barely touched plate.

“She didn’t show up,” Ruth said, coloring slightly. “I’m sure she got stuck in court…. ” Robin was with the Prosecuting Attorney’s office in Seattle, and frequently dealt with violent crime.

Bethanne frowned. “Did you call her?”

Ruth shook her head. “I refuse to carry a cell phone. They’re an intrusion on people’s privacy and—well, never mind. Although I will admit that at times like this a cell would come in handy.”

“Would you like me to phone?”

“Oh, would you, dear?” Ruth squeezed her hand gratefully. “I’d appreciate it.”

Digging in her purse, Bethanne found her cell. She had Robin’s number in her contacts and, holding the phone to her ear, waited for the call to connect. Robin’s phone went directly to voice mail, which meant she was probably still in court.

“I think you must be right,” Bethanne told Ruth.

The older woman exhaled. “I was afraid of that. I don’t know when we’ll have a chance to meet again before I leave.” Ruth straightened and picked up her sandwich. “But it doesn’t really matter, because my daughter is not going to change my mind.”

“Change your mind about what?”

Ruth lifted her chin. “Robin wants to talk me out of attending my fifty-year class reunion.” She took a determined bite of her turkey-and-bacon sandwich.

Why would her sister-in-law do such a thing? “I hope you go,” Bethanne said.

“I am, and nothing she says will convince me otherwise.” Bethanne had never seen Ruth so fired up.

“Good for you.” She watched in amusement as her ex-mother-in-law chewed with righteous resolve.

Swallowing, Ruth relaxed and sent Bethanne a grateful smile. “And I intend to drive to Florida by myself. That’s all there is to it.”

Two

“Florida?” Bethanne repeated slowly. Her mother-in-law wanted to drive across the entire country? Alone?

“Oh, Bethanne, not you, too.” Ruth groaned. “I’m perfectly capable of making the trip.”

“Can’t you fly?” As far as she knew, Ruth didn’t have any fear of air travel.

“Of course I could, but what fun is that?” Ruth tossed her napkin on the table. “For years Richard promised me a cross-country trip. I’d spend days planning the route, and I’d write all my friends to tell them we were coming. Then invariably something would come up at Richard’s work.” Her lips tightened at the memory. “He canceled the trip three times until I finally gave up.”

Richard was a workaholic who hardly ever took vacations. He spent most weekends in the office of his engineering firm, missing countless baseball games and piano recitals. In fact, he died in that very same office. How long had he been gone now? Seven years, maybe eight, by Bethanne’s calculations.

Grant had taken his father’s death especially hard. They weren’t close but Grant had looked up to his father and respected his work ethic. As for Robin—well, she’d been cut from the same cloth as Richard. She’d married right out of law school, but divorced three years later. Robin was wedded to her job; there wasn’t room for anything or anyone else. Even her desire for a family had faded next to the demands and rewards of her meteoric career. The only time Bethanne actually saw her sister-in-law was at Christmas and that hadn’t happened in years, not since before the divorce. They did chat by phone every now and then, and Robin remembered to send cards and checks on Andrew’s and Annie’s birthdays. But she wasn’t involved in their lives—or anyone else’s, it seemed, except her colleagues’.

“I’m not getting any younger, you know,” Ruth went on, interrupting Bethanne’s musings. “If I’m going to see the country, I don’t feel I can delay it anymore. I wanted to ask Robin to accompany me but we both know that would be a waste of breath. I don’t think she’s taken more than a week off in the past ten years.”

Bethanne had nothing to add. Ruth was right; Robin would never go on a road trip with her mother, would never devote two or three weeks to family.

“In all these years, I’ve only been back to my hometown three times.” Ruth’s words were tinged with longing. “For my parents’ funerals and then once for a brief vacation. But I’ve kept in touch with several of my high school friends. Diane and Jane both came out to Seattle with their families to visit. When we were together, it was like we were teenagers all over again! I enjoyed it so much, and the reunion’s the perfect opportunity to see them. I’m determined to go.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

Bethanne could tell that she wasn’t going to dissuade her. “Then you should do it,” she said mildly.

“I am,” Ruth insisted. “I’m leaving the first of June.”

“So soon?” Bethanne raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, the reunion’s on the seventeenth and that gives me plenty of time to see the sights. I’ve always wanted to visit Mount Rushmore and the Badlands. My grandparents originally settled in the Dakotas, you know.”

Bethanne didn’t want to discourage Ruth, but she did feel a twinge of anxiety about her traveling that distance by herself. She’d be an easy mark, especially alone.

Ruth fixed her with a stubborn glare. “Before you say anything, I want you to know I’ve rented a car since I’m planning to fly back, and I’ve already booked my flight from Florida to Seattle. So don’t even try to talk me out of this.”

Bethanne gave up the idea of arguing with her and instead patted the older woman on the arm.

“No one takes the time to travel by car anymore,” Ruth said plaintively. “Life is ‘rush here’ and ‘rush there.’ My children are grown, and I’m sorry to say they’re both a disappointment to me. I hardly ever see either Robin or Grant. I’m sixty-eight years old and—” Her voice cracked. “I am not old and I refuse to be treated like I’m too fragile to know my own mind.”

Bethanne reached across the table and clasped Ruth’s hand. She thought of Casey Goetz and the close relationship she had with Lydia’s mother. In a few years it might be difficult for Ruth to drive cross-country. It was either take this trip now or give up her long-held dream.

“I’ll go with you,” Bethanne said in a soft voice.

Ruth’s head shot up. “You?”

“I haven’t taken a vacation in years.” Aside from a few trips with the kids to visit relatives, her last real vacation had been with Grant. They’d gone to Italy to celebrate their tenth anniversary.

Ruth continued to stare at her, obviously at a loss for words.

“It would do me good to get away for a few weeks,” Bethanne said. “I have some decisions to make that I’d like to mull over. Getting away will give me a chance to do that.”

“You’re serious? You’d drive with me?”

“Of course.” Bethanne smiled at Ruth’s excitement.

“I want to see New Orleans!”

“I’d love that,” Bethanne said.

“And Branson, Missouri …”

“You, me and the Oak Ridge Boys,” Bethanne said, laughing now and feeling energized by her spur-of-the-moment decision.

“And Andy Williams,” Ruth moaned, crossing her hands over her heart.

“Fine, Andy Williams, it is.” Bethanne was gratified by Ruth’s reaction. “It might take me a couple of days to clear my desk,” she warned. Thankfully, Julia was more than capable of filling in for her.

“I don’t plan to leave until after Memorial Day,” Ruth said, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Oh, Bethanne, you don’t know how happy this makes me.”

“I’m happy, too,” she said, and she was. This spontaneous decision felt incredibly right. She needed time away to think about Grant’s recent overtures. She didn’t know if it was possible or even desirable for them to reconnect; after everything she’d been through, she could hardly imagine him in her life again. And yet … She couldn’t help wondering whether her feelings for Grant, the love that had survived the divorce, would be enough to sustain a second attempt at marriage. Could the woman she’d become find a place for him in the very different life she’d created?

“You’re sure about this?” Ruth pressed.

“Positive.”

Ruth studied her, frowning slightly. “You aren’t doing it out of pity, are you?”

“No.” Bethanne tried to hold back a smile.

“Well, I don’t care if it’s pity or not. I’m just grateful to have you along.”

And then she clapped her hands like a schoolgirl.

“Mom,” Annie cried the instant Bethanne walked into Parties’ Queen Ann Hill headquarters. The retail store was her very first location, and she’d quickly taken over the offices on the second floor. “Where have you been? Julia’s been waiting for half an hour, and the other managers are arriving in fifteen minutes!” “Sorry, sorry …” Bethannemumbled. “You didn’t answer your cell.” Annie was pacing Bethanne’s office like afretful cat. “I was with Grandma Hamlin.” Annie stopped pacing. “She’s okay, isn’t she?” “Never better.” Bethanne went into the supply cabinet and grabbed a yellow pad. Although Julia was already in the conference room, she picked up the messages on her desk and shuffled through them. She paused when she saw Grant’s name.

“Dad phoned,” Annie said from behind her. “I talked to him.”

Bethanne turned to face her daughter. To her relief, Annie and Grant had mended fences in the past couple of years; their once-close relationship had reemerged. Father and daughter had always been so much alike, both of them charmers, both of them stubborn to the point of inflexibility. Their reconciliation had really begun when Tiffany left Grant. Annie certainly hadn’t shed any tears over the breakup of that marriage. In fact, she’d had difficulty hiding her joy.

“I feel like Dad’s himself again these days,” Annie said earnestly.

“I’m glad,” Bethanne responded, returning her attention to the stack of phone messages.

“He’s working really hard to make it up to Andrew and me.”

Bethanne met her daughter’s gaze squarely. “He’s your father, and you two are the most precious things on earth to him.” She doubted Grant understood how close he’d come to losing his children during the years he’d made Tiffany his priority.

“Are you going to call him back?” Annie asked.

The slip was at the bottom of her pile. “I’ll do it when I have time,” Bethanne said firmly. “Now, I can’t keep Julia waiting any longer.”

As they hurried down the hallway, Annie said breathlessly, “Vance called this afternoon.”

Vance was her daughter’s college boyfriend. They’d dated on and off for almost three years. Bethanne knew Annie was serious about him, but she felt they were both too immature to even think about marriage. Despite her age and accomplishments, Annie still seemed so young to Bethanne. Perhaps it was a result of the divorce, but Annie’s attachment to both her and Grant struck her as a bit excessive—seeking them out for advice and approval at every turn. Bethanne wondered if she’d been that dependent on her parents when she was Annie’s age. She didn’t think so. However, she hadn’t had to cope with the disintegration of her family or the anger and grief it caused.

“Vance calls or texts at least six times a day,” Bethanne said. That might be an exaggeration but they seemed to be in constant communication.

“He asked me to dinner at the Space Needle!” Annie was practically vibrating with excitement.

Bethanne arched an eyebrow. “Are you two celebrating a special anniversary?”

“Not that I remember. And trust me, if anyone would remember, it’s me.”

Bethanne agreed. Like her father, Annie had extraordinary recall when it came to dates, facts and figures; she’d always been a top student in math and history. Bethanne thought of the endless memory games Annie and Grant loved to play on long car trips, egging each other on to greater and greater feats of recall.

“Then what’s the occasion?”

Her daughter’s eyes were wide. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask me to marry him,” she whispered.

Bethanne did an admirable job of hiding her dismay. “Really?”

Annie nodded. “When I mentioned something last week about Andrew and Courtney’s wedding, he told me he’s a big believer in marriage and family.”

“Family is important,” Bethanne said noncommittally.

“Yes, and we agree on practically everything—family, church, politics. Those are the important subjects, don’t you think?” Annie searched Bethanne’s face for confirmation.

“I do, but a single comment on the subject doesn’t mean Vance is ready to propose, Annie.” Bethanne’s voice was gentle, but inside she marveled at her daughter’s naiveté. She didn’t want Annie to set herself up for disappointment. A mother never outgrew her protective instincts, she realized.

“Oh, I know, but Nicole saw him at a jewelry store in the University District. It only makes sense that he was looking at engagement rings. Why else does a guy go to a jeweler?”

For any number of reasons, but Bethanne couldn’t bring herself to burst her daughter’s bubble. “When’s the hot date?”

“Friday night.”

“Fabulous. I hope everything works out.” Either way—engagement or not—she had concerns, but this wasn’t the time to discuss them.

“Thanks, Mom.” Annie just about skipped down the hall toward her own office.

“Annie,” Bethanne called out, stopping her. “I have a bit of news myself.”

Her daughter turned back, anxiety clouding her eyes.

“When I saw your grandma, she told me she’s planning to drive to Florida next week. I’ve decided to go with her.”

Annie’s mouth sagged open. “You and Grandma are driving to Florida?”

Bethanne laughed. “Don’t say it like that. We’re two mature women who can look after ourselves. Your grandmother’s wanted to make a road trip across the country nearly her entire adult life, and for one reason or another it’s always been put off. She’s determined to go—and I can’t let her go alone.”

“What about Aunt Robin?” As soon as the words were out, Annie shook her head. “Never mind. Aunt Robin wouldn’t take the time for that.”

Bethanne nodded. “It was a … sudden decision.”

“What about the business?” Annie nodded in the direction of the conference room, where the various store managers would soon be gathering.

“Julia can handle whatever comes up in the next few weeks,” Bethanne said calmly. “I’ll be accessible by phone and email, if she really needs me.”

Annie stared at Bethanne. “Wow, Mom, taking off on the spur of the moment—that isn’t like you.”

“True, but I’ve got a lot to think about right now, and this will give me a chance to weigh my options.”

“Does Dad know?”

“Not yet,” Bethanne said, waving as she hurried to the conference room. “I’m sure your grandmother will tell him when the time is right.”

The meeting with Julia was abbreviated due to the arrival of the managers. Afterward, Julia and Bethanne parted with a promise to catch up the following day. When she finally made it back to her office to return phone calls, Bethanne saved Grant’s for last. The commercial real estate market was still depressed across the country, but it had recently started to pick up in the Seattle area. As the broker in charge of one of his company’s most successful offices, Grant had significant responsibilities.

His assistant connected her immediately. “Bethanne,” he said, sounding grateful to hear from her.

“Hello, Grant. Annie told me you called.” She got right to the point; they were both busy people.

“Tell me, when did our little girl become such a dynamic young businesswoman?”

Bethanne smiled. “I believe she inherited her talent from you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Grant countered. “You’re the business powerhouse these days.”

Grant had always been skilled at making everyone feel special—like the most important person in the room—and it had served him well in his career. Now he was turning that charm on her, something he hadn’t done in years.

“I called about dinner on Friday. You never did say if you were available.”

She didn’t need a reminder; his invitation had been on her mind for the past three days.

“I thought we’d go to that little Mexican restaurant we used to like so much,” he went on, obviously—and correctly—interpreting her silence as hesitation.

“They’re still at the same location, can you believe it?” He laughed nervously. “What do you say? You and me, for old times’ sake?”

Bethanne closed her eyes, her knuckles white around the receiver. She was decidedly tired of that expression. “Not all our old times were that happy, Grant.”

“I know,” he was quick to admit. “But we do need to discuss Andrew’s wedding.”

“We can do that just as easily over the phone.”

“We could …” Grant conceded. “But I’d much rather do it over a margarita.” She heard him sigh. “You used to like yours on the rocks. Do you still prefer them that way?”

Bethanne couldn’t recall the last time she’d even had a margarita. Too many hours in the office and not nearly enough fun. “I suppose.”

“So, will you have dinner with me Friday night?” He wasn’t pleading, but she thought she detected a note of yearning in his voice.

She exhaled and, with her arm hugged tight around her middle, finally said, “All right.”

“I’ll pick you up—”

“I’ll meet you at the restaurant at seven,” she interjected, far more comfortable providing her own transportation.

“Seven,” he repeated, not bothering to hide his enthusiasm. “See you then.”

Three

Bethanne sat at her desk late Friday afternoon and reviewed the latest figures Julia had given her on the other five stores. She was fortunate that in a struggling economy, Parties continued to thrive. Julia had various suggestions she wanted Bethanne to consider, and in the past months Bethanne had come to rely on her more and more. If it wasn’t for her operations manager, she wouldn’t be able to take time off to travel with her mother-in-law.

In the years since the start-up of Parties, her business had experienced steady growth and, according to Julia, there was huge potential for the future as long as they were judicious about their finances and their expansion plans.

One of the benefits of her success was the knowledge that she could travel anyplace in the world she desired, something she’d long dreamed about. This was heady for Bethanne. She had good business instincts, as well as basic skills she’d learned watching her husband and his colleagues. Because her ideas were so innovative, she’d received more than her share of attention from the press. She kept copies of the articles written about her novel approach to parties.

Reaching for the folder, she leafed through it, scanning each news clipping and magazine article with a sense of pride and accomplishment. She paused at last year’s photograph of herself smiling at the camera, standing outside this building, which housed the original Parties. The photo was flattering. She was at her leanest, her shoulder-length brown hair turned up slightly at the ends. Not bad for forty-seven.

When she’d seen the picture, her thought had been that she looked happy. It was at that moment that she’d realized she was over Grant. Life did go on.

Soon after that photo was published with a profile of her in USA Today, Annie told her that Tiffany had left Grant and filed for divorce. A few days later, Grant had called to give Bethanne the news himself; it was the first time they’d spoken in months. He’d sounded depressed, and Bethanne had felt sympathetic. After all, she’d been there….

Grant. Her thoughts had turned to him often since his call earlier in the week. After years of forcing him from her mind, she found it uncomfortable to be entertaining memories of him now.

Bethanne checked her watch. If she was going to be on time to meet her ex-husband at Zapata’s, she needed to leave the office now. Because it was the start of the Memorial Day weekend, she was caught in heavy traffic and arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late.

As she entered the dining room, the scent of fried tortilla chips and spicy salsa triggered a wave of nostalgia. When they were first married, this hole-in-the-wall restaurant had been their favorite. They could order a bean burrito, plus two tacos with rice and beans, and split the dinner for $5.50, including tip. If they had extra money, they bought a single margarita with two straws.

It had been important to them both that Bethanne stay home with the children until they were in school. Once Annie went into first grade, Bethanne had been prepared to finish her degree and rejoin the workforce, but Grant had asked her not to. She was his partner, his support—and he liked having her available to manage the day-to-day tasks that allowed him to focus on his career. Bethanne had agreed; by then he was doing well financially and he always let her know how much he appreciated her support.

Seeing her across the room, Grant stood and waved. The small restaurant was crowded. Almost every seat was taken and the waitstaff angled between tables, carrying trays of drinks with chips and salsa. Mariachi music blared from the speakers.

Bethanne made her way over to Grant, who’d remained standing. He immediately helped her remove her jacket. He’d always been attentive about those gentlemanly details. He would open a door for her or pull out her chair as a matter of course—but he didn’t hesitate to rip out her heart.

Stop.

She refused to let the old bitterness overtake her. She’d never been the vindictive type, and she’d worked hard to put the past behind her.

“I ordered you a margarita,” Grant said as he slid her chair under her. She felt his hand graze her shoulder, lingering just a second beyond casual.

The warm chips and salsa were already there. Bethanne’s stomach growled as she reached for one, wondering if the salsa was still as spicy as she remembered. One bite assured her it was.

“The menu’s almost unchanged after all these years,” Grant said as he sat down across from her. He held her look for a moment before opening his menu again.

Obviously, this place brought back memories for him, too.

“I see the prices have changed,” she remarked, scanning her own menu. A picture of the Mexican general adorned the plastic front.

He smiled. “Well, I guess we can afford it now.”

Bethanne didn’t recognize any of the staff. The waitress brought two margaritas over ice, each with a thick ring of salt around the rim of the glass.

“At least we can have two drinks this time around,” Grant said, watching her lick the salt off her glass and take a sip.

His familiar use of we made it sound as if they were a couple again, but she didn’t react. “I hope the same holds true for dinner,” she said mildly.

“I believe anything you order will fit into my budget,” Grant murmured, still studying the selections.

“I don’t think I ever told you I don’t like bean burritos,” she blurted out.

“You don’t?” He sent her a shocked look over the top of his menu. “But … but we ordered it every time we came here.”

Bethanne said nothing. In their dozens of meals at Zapata’s, not once had he asked why she never ate her half of the burrito.

“I thought you were just being generous,” he said. “You know—saving more for me, the way you did for the kids.” He set down the menu, genuinely crestfallen. “I’m sorry, Bethanne, for being so oblivious.”

Bethanne was relieved that the waitress returned at that moment for their order. She chose the Tex-Mex salad, while Grant ordered chicken enchiladas and a bean burrito combination plate.

As soon as the waitress left the table, Bethanne took a long drink of her margarita, savoring the warmth spreading through her. She sat back in her chair and waited. Grant had asked for this meeting. She was curious to hear what he had to say.

“I’ve met Courtney a couple of times now,” he began, referring to their son’s fiancée. “I like her a great deal. She’s very down-to-earth, a good match for Andrew, I think.”

“I think so, too,” Bethanne murmured.

“I understand that Andrew and Courtney are planning the wedding themselves, and that you’re helping them, which makes sense.” It was rare to see Grant visibly nervous, but he seemed to be so now, fiddling with his silverware and avoiding eye contact. He cleared his throat. “I’d like to contribute.”

“You’ll need to take that up with Andrew and Courtney,” Bethanne said.

He nodded absently. They both knew that Andrew had ambivalent feelings toward his father. Bethanne felt a pang of sorrow for Grant. She knew he hoped the wedding would provide him with a means of getting closer to Andrew.

“So, is there anything I can do?” Grant asked.

“I’m not sure…. I’ve given Andrew and Courtney contact information and steered them toward people I trust.” The couple had made their own decisions, and while Bethanne had offered suggestions, this was their wedding. She’d walked a fine line, trying to advise them without being controlling.

“Weddings are expensive,” Grant observed.

“True enough.” Bethanne had seen people spend upward of thirty thousand dollars.

“I’d like to help financially.” He rested his hands on the table.

She sipped her margarita. “That’s kind of you, Grant, but you should be telling Andrew and Courtney this, not me.”

“I wanted you to know.”

“You’ve always been generous with the children,” Bethanne conceded. A slight exaggeration, but close enough to the truth.

“I almost lost them,” Grant muttered, staring at his hands. “I wasn’t sure, you know, if it was a good idea to tell Andrew I wanted to help financially … I thought it might be better coming from you.”

Bethanne waited until he met her eyes. “No, you tell Andrew,” she said. “He loves you, Grant. You’re his father.”

Grant bowed his head in a gesture of agreement or maybe just avoidance.

“Is that the reason you asked me to dinner?” she asked. Might as well be blunt—it would’ve saved her a lot of angst if he’d come right out and said so.

He didn’t answer for a moment. “I have something else I’d like to discuss,” he said quietly. She strained to hear him over the raucous mariachi music.

“What is it?”

“At the wedding … do you think—” He hesitated. “Would you object if the two of us sat together at the church? As Andrew’s parents?”

“Sat together?” Bethanne kept her expression neutral.

“Most divorced couples don’t,” he acknowledged.

“True.”

“I’d like to present a united front to our guests and, more importantly, to our families and our children.”

She tried not to grimace. He hadn’t been concerned about this “united front” when he’d abandoned them. Oh, why was it so hard to truly forgive? She was shocked by how easily her anger still surfaced, when she’d assumed that she’d moved past the pain.

“It won’t be awkward, if you think about it,” Grant reasoned. “You haven’t remarried and I’m single again. Wouldn’t it feel a bit odd for the two of us to sit separately?”

“You’re single now, but you haven’t always been,” she said tartly.

Grant stiffened. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. We’d sit together during the ceremony and stand together in the receiving line. If you agree, I’d appreciate it, but if not …” He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. “Well, if not—I’ll understand. I guess what I’m trying to say, and doing a rather poor job of it, is that I’ll accept whatever you decide.”

Bethanne couldn’t suppress her retort. “In other words, you want the world to know all is forgiven? That we’re still friends? That’s a noble thought, but I’m not sure it sends the right message.”

He looked down at his drink. “I know it may not be possible for you to ever completely forgive me.”

Bethanne felt a twinge of shame. She sighed heavily. “I apologize, Grant,” she said. “I don’t hate you. Really.” She’d given him twenty years of her life. He was the father of her children. And there was a part of her that still loved him.

Grant’s eyes flickered with hope. “Can we do that? The two of us together for Andrew’s sake on the most important day of his life?”

“I’ll think about it,” she promised.

“That’s all I ask,” he said, and didn’t raise the subject again.

Their meals arrived shortly afterward. Grant spooned salsa over his enchiladas. Bethanne remained silent as she waited for him to hand her the bowl.

“I understand Annie’s got a hot date tonight,” he said.

Although Annie rarely mentioned her conversations with her father, Bethanne knew the two of them spoke regularly these days.

“What’s your impression of Vance?” Grant asked, sliding his fork under the steaming enchilada.

Bethanne finished spooning salsa over her own dish as she gathered her thoughts. “He’s a good kid … a bit immature, I’d say.” She paused. “But then, so is Annie.” She took another sip of her drink. “He’s an archaeology major and graduated this year. As far as I know, he’s going to graduate school.”

“Annie seems to think he’s about to pop the question.”

“So she said.” Bethanne set her fork down. “Frankly, I feel they’re both too young for marriage. If they do become engaged, I hope they decide on a lengthy engagement.”

Grant frowned. “You don’t feel Vance is a good choice for our daughter?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you implied.”

Bethanne’s gaze was direct. “No, what I said is that I hope she’d have the sense to wait before making that kind of commitment.”

Grant took a bite of his enchilada. “Were we too young?”

She shrugged, uncertain how to answer. Like Annie and Vance, Bethanne and Grant had attended the same college. He was a business major and she’d been pursuing a degree in education. They’d met over the summer between her junior and senior year. From their first date, Grant Hamlin had become her entire world. They were engaged by Christmas, and while her parents liked Grant, they’d wanted them to delay the wedding until after Bethanne graduated.

Waiting, however, felt impossible. Grant was out of school and job-hunting. He was hired by Boeing in their corporate office, and with his first paycheck bought her an engagement ring.

Against her parents’ wishes, Bethanne dropped out of school just six months shy of graduation. From that point forward she’d dedicated her life to being a good wife and mother. She’d worked briefly in a department store, but only until Andrew’s birth.

“Too young?” she repeated his question. “Perhaps …”

They finished their meal quickly after that, avoiding awkward subjects. When they left the restaurant, Grant walked her to her car.

“I enjoyed dinner,” he said, standing beside her. “Did you?” The driver’s side door was open and she’d already thrown her purse on the passenger seat.

“I did.”

“And your dinner companion?”

She gave him a warning look: don’t push it. “Tonight brought back a lot of memories,” was all she said.

“It did for me, too.” He touched her car, tracing patterns in the dust. “We were happy, Bethanne,” he said, so softly she almost missed it.

She nodded, suddenly sad. “We were,” she agreed. “At one time.”

He tentatively raised his hands to touch the curve of her shoulders. “I’d give anything to take back the past six years,” he said, staring down at her.

“Make that seven,” she added. His affair with Tiffany had been going on long before he’d asked for the divorce.

“Seven,” he amended, and exhaled slowly. Then something in him seemed to deflate, and she read the regret in his eyes. “Tell me … is there any hope for us?”

As she considered his question, she saw him tense, as if anticipating a blow.

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. Everything was just so confusing….