Blossom Street (Books 1-10). Debbie Macomber
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Susannah smiled her gratitude.
Vivian crossed her arms in defiance. “I’m not leaving my home, and that’s all there is to it.”
Sandy shared a sympathetic look with Susannah. “Let’s get together soon,” she suggested.
Susannah shrugged, unsure what to tell her. Getting Vivian settled was her top priority. “I’d like to,” she began, “but…”
“I’m in the phone book, so call me.” Sandy squeezed her elbow, letting Susannah know she understood.
She would have welcomed the opportunity to visit with Sandy. They’d become friends after Carolyn was shipped off to boarding school. Sandy had been with her the night Jake had first asked her to dance.
A tingle of happiness went through her at the memory. They’d gone to a school function after the football game—a dance in the high school gym. Jake had been at the game, too, with Sharon, another girl from their class. He’d been talking to the players on the sidelines. Susannah had just started her junior year and Jake was a recent graduate. He worked at the mill and had stopped by the dance—without Sharon. Several of the senior girls flirted outrageously in hopes of getting his attention. Susannah thought he was the cutest boy in the universe, but she was convinced she didn’t have a chance with him. She was only sixteen; he was nineteen.
When Jake had crossed the gym floor and held out his hand to her, she’d nearly keeled over in a dead faint. He didn’t say a word as he drew her into his arms for a slow dance.
When the music faded, he’d looked into her eyes, smiled softly and touched her cheek with his index finger. Then, again without speaking, he walked away. If Sandy hadn’t come and collected her from the dance floor, Susannah figured she would’ve stood there like a statue with everyone dancing around her.
Oh, yes, Susannah definitely wanted to get together with Sandy. And not just because she’d have a chance to talk freely about Jake.
“This is a good price for—”
Her mother’s voice cut into Susannah’s musings. “It is,” she agreed automatically, although she didn’t have a clue what Vivian was talking about. Suddenly—impulsively—she faced her mother. Jake’s name hadn’t been mentioned in over thirty years and it was time for answers.
“Mom,” Susannah said. “Do you know whatever happened to Jake Presley?”
“Who?”
“Jake Presley, my boyfriend in high school.”
“He wasn’t that singer, was he?”
“No, Mom,” Susannah said. “That was Elvis.”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
She nodded. “I’m asking about Jake Presley. He used to live in Colville, remember?”
Her mother considered the question. “What did his father do?”
“He worked at the mill.” Susannah strained her memory, but she couldn’t recall his first name. Jake had been an only child. His mother had run off when he was four or five and he lived with his father.
After a moment, Vivian shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t remember any Jake Presley.”
“That’s all right,” Susannah said and struggled to hide her disappointment.
“I’m sorry.” Her mother seemed genuinely apologetic.
“It’s all right, Mom,” she said again.
Only it wasn’t.
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