Debbie Macomber - The Knitting Diaries - The Twenty-First Wish / Coming Unravelled / Return to Summer Island

“I should’ve known you’d be on top of things,” Mel said, apparently trying to make amends, although his compliment sounded grudging.

An awkward silence stretched between them. Ready to leave, Tim reached inside his pants pocket for his car keys. “I’d better get back to the office before my dad wonders where I am.” Tim worked as a broker at his father’s insurance agency.

“Yes, good idea,” Mel said.

“Mel,” Anne Marie whispered.

Taking the hint, Mel stepped forward. “It’s time I left, as well.”

Anne Marie and Ellen walked them both to the door. “Thank you for lunch, Mel. That was a special treat.”

“Thank you,” Ellen echoed.

“Would you like to take the leftovers home?” Anne Marie asked.

“No, you and Ellen keep them.” Then, with a sideways look at Tim, Mel announced, “Ellen’s favorite is chicken chow mein with crispy noodles.”

So that was how it was going to be. Mel was telling Tim he knew more about his daughter than Tim did. Tim felt his anger rise, but before he could respond, he inhaled a deep, calming breath and let the comment pass.

“Thank you, Tim, for the rhododendron,” Anne Marie said next. “I’ll plant it right away.”

“I’ll plant it for you,” Mel said.

Apparently, Mel was a slow learner, Tim thought. By now he should know better than to leap in and answer for Anne Marie.

He could predict her response.

“No, thank you, Mel. I’ll do it.” Anne Marie cast them both a warning look.

“Bye, Daddy. Bye, Punky,” Ellen said.

Mel’s face lit up triumphantly. He turned and started toward his car. Tim had parked behind him.

“She calls me Punky,” he said as they headed down the driveway together.

“Punky,” Tim repeated, suppressing a laugh. “Where did she come up with that?”

Mel shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

Not to be outdone, Tim said, “Ellen has a special name for me, too.”

“Oh?” Mel didn’t look as though he believed him.

“She calls me Daddy.”

With that, Tim opened his car door, slipped inside and drove off.

April 23

Moving day. I’m so thankful for all the friends who offered to help. I’ve been talking to Ellen about this move for weeks, describing it in positive terms. Yesterday evening, when I tucked her into bed at the apartment for the last time, I compared the move to starting a new knitting project. Even though it can be exciting and fun, it’s a little scary, too. There’s a lot of work involved and sometimes you make mistakes, but when you’re finished you have something that didn’t exist before. Something beautiful. This was an analogy Ellen could understand. We’ve both completed our current knitting projects, so we’ll begin new ones. The timing’s perfect. A new house. A new neighborhood for Ellen to explore. And a new knitting project.

“Ellen,” Anne Marie called, walking from room to room in their small apartment. “Where are you?”

“Here, Mom.” Ellen emerged from her bedroom, dragging her backpack.

Anne Marie knew Ellen had placed her most precious items inside the backpack instead of entrusting them to a box for someone else to transport. She had her knitting and her list of twenty wishes, along with a framed photograph of her grandmother and a book of poems Tim had given her. From the obvious weight of the knapsack, she’d stuffed other things in it, as well. Anne Marie hadn’t checked; she was busy enough doing her own last-minute packing.

“Tim’s here,” Anne Marie told her. Of all the friends who’d offered to help, he was the first to arrive.

After knocking once, he’d let himself into the apartment. “How are my girls this morning?” he asked cheerfully. He held a take-out coffee in one hand and wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt with the Mariners logo on the front. Both Tim and Ellen enjoyed baseball and declared themselves to be diehard Mariners fans.

“Girls?” Anne Marie repeated, one eyebrow cocked.

“How’s my girl? ” he corrected, and seemed rather amused with himself.

“Daddy!” Ellen raced to her father as if she hadn’t seen him in at least a month rather than the day before.

After setting his coffee on the kitchen counter, Tim caught Ellen and lifted her up for a hug.

Anne Marie looked away. She was happy Ellen had found her father and grateful for the affectionate relationship between them. Still, moments like this were hard to watch for reasons she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—identify. Finding him had been one of the girl’s wishes, which had prompted Anne Marie to allow the former addict into their lives. She could tell he genuinely loved the child.

“I brought my truck,” Tim said when he’d put Ellen back on the floor. “I can start taking down boxes if you like.”

“Can I ride over to the new house with you?” Ellen asked.

“That’s up to your mom.”

Anne Marie appreciated the fact that he’d acquiesced to her authority. “Fine by me. The others will be here any minute.”

She had plenty of volunteers—so many she’d had to turn some down. Her stepchildren, Melissa and Brandon, and Melissa’s husband, Michael, had offered, too. But they lived quite far away these days and she didn’t want to inconvenience them.

In her usual organized fashion, Anne Marie had carefully planned the move. She’d decided her friends would transport the boxes before the hired movers showed up. Whatever didn’t fit in Tim’s truck would go in their individual cars. With Lydia’s husband and family helping, Winter and Pierre from the French Café, plus Tim and his truck, Anne Marie thought it would only take one trip. They’d have lunch while the movers hauled the furniture from the apartment to the house, and after the truck had left, her small crew of friends would place the boxes in the appropriate rooms.

Tim sipped his coffee. “Where’s …?” He didn’t finish his question.

“Mel is stopping by after lunch. He had an appointment with a couple of out-of-town clients this morning.” Mel owned a thriving architectural firm and often met with clients on weekends.

She held her breath, waiting for some derogatory retort from Tim, which never came. She was relieved he’d kept his opinion to himself. Honestly, those two men could be as bad as junkyard dogs, so intent on challenging each other. Anne Marie sometimes felt like a scrap of food they were competing for. Her one hope was that Ellen didn’t sense the undercurrents between Mel and Tim. If she did, she hadn’t said anything.

“Alix has Baxter for the day,” Ellen explained to her father, obviously missing her adored dog.

“That’s good, don’t you think?” Tim asked.

Ellen shrugged. “I guess.”

“He might get lost or stepped on by someone if he was here. And you know Alix will take great care of him.”

“Alix and Jordan promised to bring him to the house this afternoon,” Anne Marie said. “Then Baxter can help you unpack your bedroom.”

Ellen nodded, but it was plain to see that she wasn’t happy to have Baxter with someone else, even someone she knew and trusted.

Within ten minutes, the Goetz family arrived. Brad, Cody and Casey ran energetically up the stairs; Lydia hadn’t been able to leave the store, as Saturday was one of her busiest times. Soon, with Anne Marie doling out instructions, they hauled boxes down to Tim’s truck. Pierre and Winter followed five minutes later.

“Winter won’t be lifting anything,” Pierre said.

“Pierre,” she muttered under her breath, looking slightly embarrassed.

Her husband replied in French. Anne Marie had been to France and had taken a few lessons, but he spoke far too quickly for her to understand. The one word that leaped out, though, was bébé .