Courtney felt a knot in her stomach. “Your mother put you up to this, didn’t she?” She got to her feet and started pacing. No wonder he was so vague! Courtney remembered that it was Bethanne who’d suggested Andrew find her a ride to and from school. She’d also coerced him into taking her to the Mariners’ game that first time.
“My mother had nothing to do with this.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Don’t go all psycho on me,” he muttered. He vaulted to his feet, raking his fingers through his hair. “Listen, there’s probably a better way to ask you to the Homecoming dance, but—”
Courtney’s head reared back. “You’re asking me to the dance?” She hadn’t dared to even hope for this. Was he serious? He wasn’t teasing her, was he? That would be too cruel.
He nodded. “But listen, there might be a bit of a problem with Melanie.”
“What do you mean?”
His shoulders rose in a sigh. “She’s the jealous type.”
“So the breakup wasn’t mutual?”
He shook his head sadly. “No. Not exactly. She’s pretty upset and, well—I felt I should warn you.”
Courtney frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Andrew smiled apologetically. “I was afraid if I did, you might refuse to go to the dance with me.” He studied her, an expectant look on his face.
This wasn’t a joke. He was serious. Andrew wanted to take her to Homecoming. “Oh, Andrew,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “I’d be honored to be your date.” She didn’t have a thing to wear—oh, if she’d ever needed her sister, it was now.
Andrew brightened. “Annie said you would.”
“She put you up to this?”
“No way, but she did give me some advice.” Andrew grinned, raising one foot. “She suggested I wear the socks. Did it work?”
Courtney laughed. “Tell her it did,” she said, smothering a laugh.
42
CHAPTER
BETHANNE HAMLIN
Bethanne was in the midst of party preparations for an eight-year-old boy. Todd was a fan of old-fashioned Western movies and TV shows, the cowboy and Indian shoot’em up kind. Bethanne had developed a party for him revolving around his favorite hero, the Lone Ranger. The invitations were out, and everyone was asked to come dressed as a cowboy. Bethanne planned to bring her guitar and she’d made arrangements to have a few bales of hay delivered. The parents had agreed to a campfire in their large backyard, and after various games, the boys would eat sitting around the fire and then she’d lead a singalong. In order to get in the mood, she’d tie a red bandanna around her neck and wear her cowgirl boots. She’d even bought a tin sheriff’s badge to pin to her plaid shirt.
Humming to Reba McEntire, she stirred the pork and beans warming on the stove. They were canned, but she’d added liquid smoke to give them the flavor of having been cooked on a campfire.
The games were more involved, since she wanted to stick to the western theme, and she planned to talk over her ideas with Andrew when he got home from school. Everything else was settled, including the menu.
Bethanne liked Elise’s idea of making a schedule of standard party ideas, so she wouldn’t need to start from scratch with every child. Who would’ve believed her creativity would get her this far? Her one drawback was the lack of start-up cash. It was hard to balance all her expenses and still make the house payments, but she was learning the importance of following a budget. Money was tight, but both her son and daughter understood that this was important. They all had to sacrifice if the business was going to survive.
The telephone rang, and Bethanne reached for it. Tucking the portable phone against her shoulder, she continued stirring. Pork and beans was the least expensive grocery item on her list, but she didn’t want to risk scorching them.
“This is Bethanne,” she said. When she could afford it, she intended to get a separate line for the party business.
“Ms. Hamlin, this is Gary Schroeder from Puget Sound Security.”
“Yes?”
“We talked briefly a few weeks ago about a loan application you’d submitted,” he said. “I hope I haven’t caught you at an inconvenient moment.”
Bethanne tried to remember this particular loan officer, but drew a blank. She’d been ushered in and out of each financial institution in record time, so it was little wonder she didn’t recall meeting him.
“This is fine.” The timer on the oven told her the birthday cake was finished.
“Perhaps it would be better if you stopped by our loan department at your earliest convenience,” he suggested.
“Ah.” Bethanne rationed her gas usage and preferred not to take unnecessary trips. “If you could tell me what this is about, I might be able to manage that,” she said. With the phone still pressed against her shoulder, she opened the oven door, slid out the top rack and tested the cake by inserting a toothpick into the center.
“There’s a check waiting for you, Ms. Hamlin,” the loan officer replied warmly.
“A check? The bank reconsidered?”
“We can discuss that when you arrive.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she said, her heart pounding hard. This was incredible! She couldn’t imagine what had convinced the bank to finally approve her loan. Whatever it was, she was ready to throw her arms around this man she couldn’t even remember meeting.
With the cake cooling on the counter and the beans in the fridge, Bethanne drove to the bank and parked in their nearby lot.
She found the desk with Gary Schroeder’s name and approached him, thrusting out her hand. “I’m Bethanne Hamlin,” she announced, then realized she still had her apron on. “Oops,” she said, untying it. “As you can see, I left in kind of a hurry.”
He gestured toward the chair. “Please, have a seat.”
Bethanne sat, perched on the edge of the chair.
“Thank you for coming so promptly,” he said.
“No problem. I did understand you correctly, didn’t I?” She gazed at him earnestly. “You did approve my loan?”
His mouth thinned. “Actually, no.”
“No,” she gasped. “Then why did you drag me all the way down here? I’m a busy woman, Mr. Schroeder. I have a business to run and—” The disappointment was so overwhelming she couldn’t finish. Not only had she wasted her time, but the gauge on her gas tank was hovering at empty. Raising her hopes like this was unfair! She stood up, ready to walk away, but Mr. Schroeder stopped her.
“You
