abruptly. “I don’t mean to imply…”
“I know,” she assured him. “I feel just as nervous as you.”
“Really?”
She laughed. “You mean you can’t tell?”
“No.” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I have a confession to make.”
“You?” Well, she’d already made two of her own.
“When I look at you,” he said in a low voice, “I forget to breathe.”
She wondered if he realized the effect his words had on her—or that she felt the very same way.
“Me, too,” she whispered. She might have said more but a booth became available and they slid inside.
They each ordered the enchiladas and lingered over coffee, chatting until after one in the morning. Only when Lillie couldn’t hold back a yawn did Hector suggest they call it a night.
He walked her to her car, which was one of the four or five still in the parking lot. The entire time Lillie prayed Hector would want to see her again. When he didn’t mention it, she was sure this would be their one and only date.
“I had a lovely evening,” she said, fumbling for her keys.
“So did I.”
“Thank you for everything.” She opened the car door and got in.
He nodded, stepping away as she started the engine.
Lillie’s heart was in her throat.
“Saturday,” he blurted out just as she was ready to drive away.
“Pardon?”
“Would you like to attend a lecture at the museum with me this Saturday?”
The relief was so overwhelming, she nearly broke into tears. “That would be wonderful, Hector.”
Wonderful didn’t begin to describe it.
Chapter 24
Wednesday afternoon, the sun was shining and the wind off Puget Sound was warm. This was a perfect spring day, and Anne Marie suddenly realized she felt…good. She’d almost forgotten what that was like. The comfort of the sun, the freshness of the breeze, the company of others—they all contributed to her sense of well-being. Most of all, though, she felt a contentment she hadn’t experienced since before her separation from Robert.
She’d just finished a knitting class with Elise Beaumont. Three other women had signed up, and the session had been fun, with plenty of banter as Elise reviewed their work.
While she was at the yarn store, Colette Dempsey came by with her infant daughter. At first Anne Marie had been afraid that seeing her friend with the baby would be painful; it wasn’t. Even though the world seemed to be full of surprise pregnancies and secret ones, too, she managed to distance herself from destructive emotions like envy.
She found she could genuinely delight in Colette’s joy. They talked for an hour, and the visit passed with barely a ripple of pain.
Anne Marie was saddened by the news that Colette and her husband, Christian, would be moving to California at the end of June for business reasons. Christian owned a successful importing firm and would be opening a second office in San Diego.
She recalled that only a year ago, Colette had been a widow like her, and that was something they’d had in common. But Colette had been hiding a pregnancy and she’d struggled with a painful dilemma that had been dramatically resolved.
Nothing dramatic had happened to Anne Marie in the last two months. Nothing had really changed, either; certainly not her circumstances, other than the fact that Ellen was living with her but that was only a temporary situation. The only difference was in Anne Marie’s attitude.
She still had to make an effort to maintain that attitude. Her Twenty Wishes had helped, because she now felt she had some control over her emotions. Doing something for someone else—Ellen—had, without a doubt, made the biggest difference.
To be honest, avoiding the question of Rebecca Gilroy had helped, too. One day soon, she’d ask who had fathered her son. But not until she felt ready to accept the answer.
After her knitting class, Anne Marie did a few errands and then collected Baxter so the two of them could meet Ellen’s school bus. The girl’s spirits had been low since she’d learned that her Grandma Dolores wouldn’t be home as quickly as they’d hoped.
Anne Marie decided a leisurely walk, maybe stopping somewhere for something to eat, might improve Ellen’s mood. As she waited on the street corner, the big yellow bus rumbled down Blossom Street. When it stopped and Ellen hopped out, Baxter strained against his leash, whining excitedly.
“How was school?” Anne Marie asked.
“Good.”
The noncommittal reply was typical. Generally it wasn’t until later in the evening, usually over dinner, that Ellen began to talk more freely. She appeared to need time to assimilate the day’s events and perhaps figure out how much to share.
“I thought we’d take Baxter for a walk together.”
“Okay.”
Ellen rarely showed much enthusiasm when Anne Marie suggested an outing. She revealed her pleasure in other ways. Anne Marie suspected she was afraid to let anyone know she was happy about something, for fear that the object of her happiness would be taken away.
“If you want, you can leave your backpack in the shop with Theresa.”
“Okay.” Ellen raced ahead and Anne Marie watched her employee place the heavy bag behind the counter. A minute later, Ellen was back.
“You ready?” Anne Marie asked.
“Ready.”
Baxter certainly was. Her Yorkie pulled at the leash; apparently Anne Marie wasn’t walking briskly enough to satisfy him. The dog had places to go, territory to mark and friends to greet, especially the friends who kept special treats just for him.
“Let’s walk down to Pike Place Market and have dinner at one of the sidewalk cafés,” Anne Marie said. “Does that sound good?”
Ellen shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Or would you rather go down to the waterfront and get fish and chips?”
Ellen didn’t seem to have an opinion one way or the other. “What do you want?”
Anne Marie had to think about it. “Pizza,” she finally said. “I haven’t had it in ages.”
“What kind?”
“Thin crust with lots of cheese.”
“And pepperoni.”
“Let’s see if we can find a restaurant where
