What a ridiculous idea. “Like I have time for… crafts?”

“It’s only a suggestion, but it’ll help your thumb, too.”

Hutch jerked his thumb back and forth and felt it tighten. It was especially stiff in the morning. But knitting? Him? The gym he could handle, but knitting? If any of his friends or employees heard about that, he’d be a laughingstock.

“How about you?” Hutch asked, suddenly suspicious. “Do you knit?”

“Yeah.” Dave grinned again. “My wife taught me.”

“Get outta here!”

“It works, Hutch. Give it a try.” Dave reached for his pad, wrote out the prescriptions and handed it to him. Hutch stared down at the small sheet of paper. He never would’ve believed he’d be on blood pressure medication in his thirties. Dave was right; this didn’t bode well.

“I want to see you again in two months.”

Hutch nodded. He stood and pulled a candy bar from his inside pocket. “I brought you something.”

Dave accepted it and looked up expectantly.

“We’re about to launch this nationwide. It’s called the Mount Saint Helens bar.”

Dave turned it over and read the description. “Coconut covered with dark chocolate and a liquid chocolate center. An explosion of f lavor.”

“That’s what I’ve been working on for the last eighteen months. We f inally have a national distributor willing to give us a shot.” His friend couldn’t appreciate how diff icult it was to get into the bigger markets when he was up against the huge candy companies. Hutch believed in this new product and was prepared to gamble on the future of the business. So far, everything seemed positive— if he didn’t end up forking out millions over a frivolous lawsuit. Dave examined the packaging and Hutch could tell he was impressed. “Sugar’s not too high,” he murmured, “and 70 percent cocoa is good.”

“Practically health food,” Hutch said with a smile. He began to turn away.

Dave stopped him. “Two months, Hutch. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t.” He walked out of the off ice and galloped down four f lights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. He couldn’t disagree with Dave about getting more exercise. But there just weren’t enough hours in the day. He delegated whatever he could but so much still demanded his personal attention. By the time he returned to his off ice, Dave was f ifteen minutes behind schedule. Gail Wendell, his personal assistant, relaxed her anxious face the moment he walked in the door. She stood as if expecting him to need something right away.

“Mr. Williams is waiting in your off ice,” she told him.

Hutch glanced at his watch. It was past one and he’d skipped breakfast and was feeling light-headed. Hardly surprising, considering all the blood Dave had taken earlier. “Can you order me lunch?”

“Teriyaki chicken?” Gail asked.

It was one of his favorites. High sodium, though. “Could you get me a salad with a side of cottage cheese?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t like cottage cheese.”

“I don’t, but it’s supposed to be good for you. Doc said I need a more balanced diet.”

“Okay, cottage cheese it is. Anything else?”

Hutch nodded. “Find a gym close to my place and sign me up.”

His assistant made a note on her pad.

“And…” He hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I need a knitting class.”

He watched, but Gail didn’t bat an eye.

“See if you can f ind an evening class somewhere in the downtown Seattle area.” His condo was in a central location and he didn’t want to travel far for this craziness. Actually, he’d be astonished if Gail found such a class, which would be f ine by him. He could tell Dave he’d tried and leave it at that.

“I’ll look into it right away.”

Dave reached inside his pocket for the prescription. “Would you please have this f illed for me, too?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Gail, you’re the greatest.”

She grinned. “Your father used to say the same thing.”

She was a valuable asset to the company, and Hutch was grateful she’d stayed on through this lengthy transition period. He knew, however, that it wouldn’t be long before she retired.

He hadn’t worked out what he’d do then. Thankfully, it wasn’t a question he needed to answer that minute. The remainder of his day was routine, with meetings stacked on meetings, and it was nearly seven o’clock when he left the off ice. Instead of driving to his condo, he stopped at his mother’s house in Bellevue. She’d tried to call him earlier in the afternoon but he’d been tied up in a meeting with the ad agency. Gloria Hutchinson’s face brightened the instant Hutch walked in the door. “I’m so glad you came by.”

He made an effort to visit and update her on what was happening at the off ice at least once a week.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No, but I had a late lunch.”

“It doesn’t matter. You should eat.” Hutch enjoyed the way she fussed over him and knew his mother needed to be needed. She’d adjusted to widowhood with diff iculty. Fortunately his sister, Jessie, spent a lot of time with her, for which Hutch was grateful. The three of them had always been close and still were.

“I called you this afternoon.”

“I got the message,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, his mother took out eggs and cheese and set them on the kitchen counter. “I called to see how your physical went.”

“It was f ine.” No reason to worry her.

“How’s your cholesterol?”

“Excellent.” That was true, anyway.

“Oh, good.” The rest of his health was far from excellent, but he didn’t plan to mention that.

“You’re too thin.”

Hutch didn’t think so but he didn’t want to argue. “Yeah, I could put on a few pounds,” he said mildly.

She added grated cheese to the eggs and whipped them together. Melting a pat of butter in the pan, she poured in the eggs and cheese and stirred.

Without asking, Hutch slid two slices of bread—whole wheat, he told himself righteously—in the toaster.

“I can’t tell you the number of nights I made your father eggs for dinner,” his mother went on to say. “The two of you are so much alike.” As if she suddenly realized what she’d said, Gloria paused. “Do take care of yourself, Hutch. You will, won’t you?”

She turned to cast him a pleading look.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” he said in a cheerful voice that took a bit of effort. “I’m f it as a f iddle.”

Her eyes grew sad. “I thought your father was, too.”

“I got a gym membership today.”

“That’s wonderful.” She spooned the scrambled eggs onto a plate and set it on the breakfast bar.

Hutch pulled up a stool. “I start an exercise program f irst thing in the morning.” He’d set his alarm an hour earlier and launch into his three-times-a-week regimen. The prospect of losing an hour’s sleep left him feeling vaguely depressed. But that was nothing compared to how he felt about the knitting class….

The toast popped up; his mother buttered it and brought it to him. Hutch stood to get some of his favorite homemade raspberry jelly from the refrigerator.

“What you really need is a wife.”

This was a frequent topic of conversation initiated by his mother. The truth was, Hutch would’ve liked nothing better, but meeting the right woman wasn’t easy. Not with his busy schedule. He’d tried the Internet but that hadn’t worked out. It was too complicated, too time-consuming. Neither had the dating service he’d contacted. Whenever he’d met a woman, who, according to the professional matchmakers, was perfect for him, the spark just wasn’t there. It’d happened repeatedly until he’d f inally given up.

“Do you have a candidate in mind?” he asked. From her returning smile, he knew she did.

“It’s a school friend of Jessie’s.”

“Okay.” His sister had impeccable taste—in everything.

“Divorced?”

His mother nodded.

“Kids?”

“A boy and girl and they’re both darling.”

“So you’ve met her?”

His mother grinned sheepishly. “Yes, and I think she’s delightful. Would you like her phone number?”

“Sure.” He had no idea when he’d be able to meet this

“delightful” woman, but that was a minor detail. The least he could do was try.

“Don’t tell the whole world, but I’m taking a knitting class.”

He offered this tidbit because he thought it would please his mother—and to shift the conversation away from his marital status.

Her eyes widened. “You?”

“It’s supposed to help me relax and Dave said it might be good therapy for my thumb.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. It’s on Wednesday nights. First class is next week.”

She blinked. “You aren’t pulling my leg, are you?”

“Would I do that?”

She laughed, then placed her hands on both sides of his face and affectionately kissed his cheek. “I never guessed that my son would become a knitter.” She laughed again. “Not me, not my daughter, but my son.”

His own laughter was a little forced. However, he’d committed himself now. And how hard could knitting be, anyway?

Chapter 4

Alix Turner

Friday afternoon Alix Turner hung up her baker’s apron in the kitchen of the French Café. Her shift had started at f ive that morning and now, at two-thirty, she was f inished. Jordan, her husband, was a youth pastor. He wouldn’t be done at the church until close to six, which gave her time to take care of a few personal matters.

Standing in the alley behind the café, Alix lit her cigarette and took a long drag. She was down to f ive a day now, and was gradually working herself up to quitting completely. All f ive were smoked during breaks at work. Nights were the hardest, but she knew Jordan wouldn’t appreciate her lighting up at home. Jordan didn’t want her smoking at all. He was worried about the effects of cigarettes on her health, and he was right to be concerned. She worried about it, too. But all the dire warnings hadn’t been enough to successfully break her addiction to nicotine. She was careful not to smoke in front of the kids in Jordan’s youth group, since it wouldn’t be appropriate for the minister’s wife to provide such a bad example.

Jordan was well aware that he wasn’t getting any angel when he married her. But her past wasn’t a problem between them, and she wanted to be sure the smoking wasn’t, either—or didn’t become one. She’d quit before, lots of times, and she could do it again.

Alix blamed the wedding for the fact that she was smoking now. Between her friend Jacqueline and Jordan’s mother, the whole affair had turned into a circus. In the midst of all that pressure, Alix had to f ind something to settle her nerves. She’d bought a pack of cigarettes on impulse and that was that. In the end, Alix and Jordan had a lovely wedding at Star Lake, on Grandma Turner’s property. However, by then the habit of smoking had insinuated itself into her life and now, a year later, she was struggling to break it.