Debbie Macomber: Blossom Street Bundle

The toast popped up; his mother buttered it and brought it to him. Hutch stood to get some of his favorite homemade raspberry jelly from the refrigerator.

“What you really need is a wife.”

This was a frequent topic of conversation initiated by his mother. The truth was, Hutch would’ve liked nothing better, but meeting the right woman wasn’t easy. Not with his busy schedule. He’d tried the Internet but that hadn’t worked out. It was too complicated, too time-consuming. Neither had the dating service he’d contacted. Whenever he’d met a woman, who, according to the professional matchmakers, was perfect for him, the spark just wasn’t there. It’d happened repeatedly until he’d finally given up.

“Do you have a candidate in mind?” he asked.

From her returning smile, he knew she did.

“It’s a school friend of Jessie’s.”

“Okay.” His sister had impeccable taste—in everything. “Divorced?”

His mother nodded.

“Kids?”

“A boy and girl and they’re both darling.”

“So you’ve met her?”

His mother grinned sheepishly. “Yes, and I think she’s delightful. Would you like her phone number?”

“Sure.” He had no idea when he’d be able to meet this “delightful” woman, but that was a minor detail. The least he could do was try.

“Don’t tell the whole world, but I’m taking a knitting class.” He offered this tidbit because he thought it would please his mother—and to shift the conversation away from his marital status.

Her eyes widened. “You?”

“It’s supposed to help me relax and Dave said it might be good therapy for my thumb.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. It’s on Wednesday nights. First class is next week.”

She blinked. “You aren’t pulling my leg, are you?”

“Would I do that?”

She laughed, then placed her hands on both sides of his face and affectionately kissed his cheek. “I never guessed that my son would become a knitter.” She laughed again. “Not me, not my daughter, but my son.”

His own laughter was a little forced. However, he’d committed himself now. And how hard could knitting be, anyway?

CHAPTER

Alix Turner

Friday afternoon Alix Turner hung up her baker’s apron in the kitchen of the French Café. Her shift had started at five that morning and now, at two-thirty, she was finished. Jordan, her husband, was a youth pastor. He wouldn’t be done at the church until close to six, which gave her time to take care of a few personal matters.

Standing in the alley behind the café, Alix lit her cigarette and took a long drag. She was down to five a day now, and was gradually working herself up to quitting completely. All five were smoked during breaks at work. Nights were the hardest, but she knew Jordan wouldn’t appreciate her lighting up at home. Jordan didn’t want her smoking at all. He was worried about the effects of cigarettes on her health, and he was right to be concerned. She worried about it, too. But all the dire warnings hadn’t been enough to successfully break her addiction to nicotine. She was careful not to smoke in front of the kids in Jordan’s youth group, since it wouldn’t be appropriate for the minister’s wife to provide such a bad example.

Jordan was well aware that he wasn’t getting any angel when he married her. But her past wasn’t a problem between them, and she wanted to be sure the smoking wasn’t, either—or didn’t become one. She’d quit before, lots of times, and she could do it again.

Alix blamed the wedding for the fact that she was smoking now. Between her friend Jacqueline and Jordan’s mother, the whole affair had turned into a circus. In the midst of all that pressure, Alix had to find something to settle her nerves. She’d bought a pack of cigarettes on impulse and that was that.

In the end, Alix and Jordan had a lovely wedding at Star Lake, on Grandma Turner’s property. However, by then the habit of smoking had insinuated itself into her life and now, a year later, she was struggling to break it.

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 first stint in jail, either.

The mere thought of having a child thrilled her and terrified 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 fictional 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 yet-to-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 confided 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 briefly 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 figured 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.”