“You know what?” Jordan murmured. “I’m much happier with what we’re doing now.”

They hugged and Alix closed her eyes. In a little more than two weeks she would be Jordan Turner’s bride. June second couldn’t come fast enough.

CHAPTER 31

“Knitting a prayer shawl is ‘putting legs to your prayers.’ It is an outward reminder that someone cares.”

Cheryl Gunnells, Executive Director of Publications, Leisure Arts, Inc.

Lydia Goetz

Apparently, Alix hadn’t guessed that this last get-together of the shawl-knitting class was a surprise wedding shower for her. Once the word was out, I was delighted by how many people wanted to be part of it.

The first person to contact me was Carol Girard. She still had trouble believing she was actually pregnant. Every time we talked about it, Carol started to giggle. A pregnancy was never supposed to happen for her and Doug.

I told her I’d once read a scientific report that stated there was no logical reason a bumblebee should fly. The aerodynamics were all wrong, but apparently someone forgot to tell the bumblebee.

Carol’s pregnancy did give me pause. I wondered if such a miracle would be possible for me. Unfortunately, chemotherapy and radiation play havoc with the reproductive system.

A part of me longed for a child, an infant to hold and nurture and love. I’d assumed that in time this resurgence of baby hunger would go away, but it hadn’t yet. I lay awake at night thinking about a baby. Brad and I continued to discuss adoption, but we’d decided to think it over for a few months. There was no need to make a decision yet.

Back to Alix’s party…Bethanne Hamlin was supplying the decorations. Her party business had become a notable success, and there was even talk of franchising the company. Whenever I thought back to the first time I met her, I was astonished that this was the same woman. In those days, Bethanne had lacked the initiative to do something as simple as sign up for a knitting class; her daughter Annie was the one who’d phoned. To be fair, Bethanne was still staggering from the pain and shock of her divorce, and her self-esteem was in ashes.

Well, talk about rising from the ashes! The woman who was convinced she had no skills, no talents and no prospects, now headed a huge party business. The last I heard, she had thirty employees. Thirty!

Annie was in her first year of college and planned on getting a business degree so she could join her mother. Two years ago who would’ve believed something like this could happen?

Courtney, who’d also been in my sock-knitting class, mailed a gift for Alix when Annie Hamlin told her about the surprise shower. Courtney was away at the University of Illinois at Chicago; she hoped to eventually become a nutritionist. Bethanne’s son, Andrew, and Courtney were still in touch, too, which pleased me. I knew they’d maintained their long-distance relationship, because Courtney had recently e-mailed me about shipping her some yarn. She was knitting Andrew a sweater for his birthday in his school colors. Alix would love knowing that Courtney hadn’t forgotten her.

Naturally, Jacqueline and Tammie Lee planned to attend, even though they’d already been part of another shower for Alix at the country club. They were bringing all kinds of treats for the party, everything from small quiches to a selection of cheeses. Tammie Lee told me she was also preparing a southern delicacy—pickled hardboiled eggs. Jacqueline said I should count my blessings that Tammie Lee hadn’t decided to cart in a Crock-Pot full of boiled peanuts.

It warmed my heart to see the two of them getting along so well.

Margaret would be here, too. I’d hoped Julia and Hailey could come, but unfortunately, they both had after-school events. Margaret hadn’t said much about Julia lately. When I asked, she changed the subject, evaded the issue or glared defiantly. Clearly, this wasn’t something she wanted to discuss, especially now that Danny Chesterfield had been released. My sister’s anger and her frustration with the police had returned tenfold.

I tried not to worry about Julia or Margaret, but it was hard. Hailey and I talked every once in a while, and I got more news from her than I did from my own sister, whom I saw five days a week.

The door opened and Bethanne Hamlin breezed into the store, hauling a huge box. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, and her sleeveless summer dress revealed a golden tan. I could tell she felt embarrassed when I told her how gorgeous she looked, but it was the truth.

“Thanks for doing all this,” I said and would’ve hugged her if not for the large carton she held.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Bethanne set the box on the table and started to unpack. She had ties for the back of each chair, which resembled wedding veils, and silk flower bouquets that she attached to the veils, each one in a pastel shade. She draped the table with a decorated cloth and then brought out a silver tray with minisandwiches and sugar cookies shaped like champagne glasses.

Even before she’d finished, Jacqueline and Tammie Lee came in with their bounty, followed by Elise and Maverick Beaumont. I immediately pulled out a chair for Maverick, who seemed thinner than the last time I’d seen him. His complexion was pale, too, and he seemed weak and tired. He was losing his battle with cancer. No one needed to tell me that; I could see it for myself.

Elise stayed close to his side, as she had for the past two years. They were devoted to each other. Watching them together, so tender and loving, brought tears to my eyes. I hoped Brad and I would be like them in our old age.

Elise used to be an embittered woman who resented her ex-husband, Maverick, for his many supposed transgressions, including the fact that he was a professional gambler. Her life had become more and more rigid in her retirement, not less, as you might expect. But reconciling with Maverick had completely changed her.

In addition to being my friend, Elise was one of my very best customers. When it came to knitting, there wasn’t any project Elise couldn’t tackle. The most complicated patterns didn’t daunt her.

As the time neared for Alix’s arrival, everyone dispersed.

“I see her,” I called from where I stood by the window. I watched Alix leave the French Café, carrying a basket of what I suspected were warm croissants. “Hide, everyone,” I instructed, and all my friends scrambled. I hurried over to the counter.

The three customers in the shop had been told what was happening and been invited to join the festivities.

The bell chimed as Alix stepped inside, then paused, glancing around. I’m no actress, but I did my best to look as if this was an ordinary afternoon.

“What’s going on?” she asked, frowning.

I stood behind the cash register, trying to keep our little secret as long as possible. The plan was to wait until Alix approached the table before everyone leaped out and shouted, “Surprise!”

I shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“No one’s here,” Alix said in a puzzled voice.

“Colette and Susannah will be here in a few minutes.” In reality, they’d been among the first to show up. They had a large order to get out that night and it was a sacrifice for them to be here at all, but neither was willing to miss it.

Alix still didn’t move.

“Go on back.” I gestured to the rear of the shop.

Alix sent me an odd look, and I was sure that despite my efforts I’d given the surprise away. She moved past the yarn—and then everyone rushed forward to shout.

To my utter satisfaction, Alix was stunned. Her mouth fell open and she slowly turned and studied each face. The table was piled high with gifts and food, and everyone crowded around to offer her their best wishes.

Alix always claimed she wasn’t any good in social situations, but after I saw her at this wedding shower, I begged to differ. She charmed her friends and thanked them for their gifts with unquestionable sincerity. The gifts were mostly thoughtful with a few comical ones tossed in. My sister’s present, a toaster, was as practical as Margaret herself. Mine was a gift card for $100 worth of yarn. My favorite present was an oversize T-shirt with an image of Shakespeare knitting a sleeve. “That’s the ‘raveled sleeve of care,’” Elise the ex-librarian explained. “Sleep knits it up again. Isn’t that a lovely metaphor? It’s from Macbeth.”

“In other words, knitting puts you to sleep,” Maverick teased.

Alix laughed and hugged them both.

At closing time, the party broke up and people started drifting away. Bethanne had to leave early because of an “appointment”; I was willing to bet she was going out on a date, but I didn’t question her. I knew she’d met someone, and I was eager to hear the details. I could’ve asked Annie, who’d stayed to clear away the decorations, but I figured Bethanne would tell me when she was ready. I could wait.

At one point I saw Margaret talking intently to Alix and wondered what that was about. My sister didn’t look happy, nor did she seem to be congratulating Alix on her marriage. A while later, Alix moved off to visit with someone else. Then, before I knew it, Margaret had left for the day without even a word of farewell.

Colette and Susannah had to get back to the store to work on the arrangements for a funeral home, which was a new account Susannah had recently won.

Elise and Maverick didn’t last long after the gifts had been opened and the food served. I walked them to the car, which Elise drove. I could see the sadness in her eyes and felt an almost maternal urge to comfort her. These next few months were going to be difficult. Maverick, however, didn’t show any concern for himself.

I understood that, too. He’d received far more love and care in these last few years of his life than he’d ever dared to hope. I knew he was as content and happy as possible, happier than he’d been in all the years he was a champion poker player. He’d been a fairy godfather to us all and we loved him deeply, each and every one of us.

When I returned to the store, the only person left was Alix.

“I phoned Jordan,” she said as she gathered up her gifts. “He’s going to come by in a few minutes to drive me home.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

Alix helped me clean up and I saw her glance my way a couple of times.

“Were you surprised?” I asked as I dumped paper plates in the garbage.

“Totally.” She looked up at me, her eyes shining. “It was wonderful, Lydia. Thank you so much!”

“We were happy to do it for you, Alix,” I murmured, moved by the fervency of her response.

“Did you see me talking to Margaret?” Alix asked a few minutes later as she wrapped the leftover croissants in a plastic bag.

I nodded. Naturally, I was curious and hoped Alix would elaborate. Margaret shared so little with me these days.

“Margaret came to me,” Alix began. “She asked if we could talk privately.” Alix frowned, presumably at whatever Margaret had said. “I told her I’d talk to her, but it’d have to wait until after the shower. I couldn’t very well leave everyone,” she said.

I agreed, and couldn’t figure out what my sister had to say that was so confidential.

“When the party was winding down, she pulled me into a corner,” Alix went on. “It was about what happened to Julia. I thought things were sort of back to normal, but I guess not.”