The house was a rental property and Anne Marie had until the end of the month to get it cleaned out and ready for the next tenants.

That afternoon, with a few friends gathered around, Anne Marie and Ellen had laid Dolores Falk to rest. Throughout the service, Ellen stayed by Anne Marie’s side. She didn’t weep, although her eyes filled with tears more than once. Afterward, they’d returned to the apartment alone.

“I think Grandma Dolores was ready to live with Jesus,” Ellen had said calmly as she reached for her knitting bag. She seemed to find solace in knitting.

“What makes you say that?”

She’d glanced up. “I saw it in her eyes. She told me she was tired.”

Anne Marie had thought her heart would break.

Late Tuesday afternoon, Anne Marie and Ellen were in the apartment, planning a visit to Dolores’s house to sort out what to keep and what to give away, when the phone rang. It was Cathy in the bookstore. “The social worker’s here to talk to you. Should I send her up?”

“Yes, please.” Evelyn Boyle had said she’d hoped to attend the memorial service the previous day; she’d also said she had a court date and wasn’t sure how long that would last.

Anne Marie waited anxiously for her at the top of the stairs.

“How did everything go yesterday?” Evelyn asked, taking the steps one by one.

“It was very nice.” Several of Dolores’s neighbors had attended, and Helen Mayer from the school had been there, too, along with Lydia, Elise and Lillie. Dolores had requested that her remains be cremated; Anne Marie and Ellen would receive the ashes at a later date.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Anne Marie bit her lip until it hurt. “Do you have news?”

“I do.” The middle-aged woman paused on the landing and placed her hand over her heart. “Stairs are God’s way of telling me I’m not getting any younger.”

Anne Marie resisted the urge to shake her by the shoulders and demand to know what she’d learned. “Come in, please,” she invited, doing her best to disguise her nervousness.

The social worker stepped into the kitchen. Ellen sat at the table knitting, with Anne Marie’s notes for the disbursement of Dolores’s belongings scattered about. “My goodness,” Evelyn murmured, “who taught you to knit so well?”

“Anne Marie,” Ellen said without looking up. “I’m sorry, Ms. Boyle, but I can’t talk now. I’m counting stitches.”

“Perhaps you could move into the living room so Ms. Boyle and I can chat. Okay?” Anne Marie said.

“Okay.” With the ball of yarn under her arm, Ellen carried her wool and needles into the other room and, Anne Marie hoped, out of earshot.

Evelyn Boyle pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down as Anne Marie gathered up her notes and put them in a loose pile. Evelyn placed her briefcase on the table and opened it, then ceremoniously removed Ellen’s file.

Anne Marie sat across from her. Waiting…

“I located a copy of Ellen’s birth certificate and the father is listed—”

Anne Marie’s heart slammed hard against her ribs. She hadn’t expected this. “You have a name?” Okay, she’d deal with it. No matter what, Anne Marie would find a way to be part of Ellen’s life and she didn’t care what it cost.

Evelyn frowned. “If I’d been allowed to finish, you would’ve heard me say that Ellen’s father is listed as unknown.”

“That means…” Anne Marie was too excited to complete the question.

“It means that as far as the State of Washington is concerned, you’re free to adopt Ellen Falk.”

“Thank you,” Anne Marie whispered, her throat thickening with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

“Have you said anything to Ellen?”

Anne Marie had n’t felt she could until she had all the facts. “Not yet.”

“Then let’s tell her now.” The social worker called out to the eight-year-old. “Ellen, would you please join us in the kitchen?”

Ellen immediately came inside and sat down in the chair next to Anne Marie.

“Hello, Ellen.”

The child regarded the social worker suspiciously. Anne Marie didn’t blame her; it was Evelyn Boyle who’d taken her out of class and uprooted her entire life with the news of her grandmother’s death.

Hoping to reassure Ellen, Anne Marie leaned over and gently touched her arm.

“What would you think if Anne Marie became your mother?” Evelyn asked. “Would you like that?”

Ellen didn’t answer right away. Then she turned and looked at Anne Marie. “Would I call you Mom?”

“If you wanted,” Anne Marie said. “Or you could call me Anne Marie. Whatever you prefer.”

“Could I have play dates with my friend Cassie if you were my mom?”

“Yes, of course.” Anne Marie remembered the day of the school concert, when she’d been approached by the mother of Ellen’s friend about a possible exchange of play dates.

Ellen looked from Anne Marie to the social worker. “Would it mean no one could ever take me away again?”

“No one, not ever,” Anne Marie promised.

Ellen shrugged. “I guess it would be all right.”

“You guess?” Anne Marie teased. “You guess?”

Ellen’s face lit up with a huge smile. “I’d like it a whole lot.”

“I would, too,” Anne Marie told her.

Ellen bounded out of her chair and threw her arms around Anne Marie’s neck.

“Wonderful,” Evelyn Boyle whispered. “This is just perfect. It’s cases like this that make everything else worthwhile.” She opened the file again. “I have all the paperwork with me. Be warned, though, the process will take about six months.”

Anne Marie didn’t care how long it took. The paperwork was a mere formality.

She already had her daughter, and Ellen had her mother.

Nothing would ever come between them again.

Chapter 31

“Tell me where we’re going,” Mark said, wheeling his chair alongside Barbie on 4th Avenue. They’d left Seattle Fitness and, after some pestering on her part, Mark had agreed to join her. She refused to allow his mood to taint this lovely May afternoon. The sun was shining, and she was in love. Mark loved her, too, although he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

“It’s a secret. But we’re going to meet a couple of my friends first,” she explained. He knew that and had already agreed. “Stop acting so cranky.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You might not have noticed, but I don’t do well with most people.”

“I promise you’ll like Anne Marie and Ellen.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Mark, please, we’ve been through this.” She found it difficult to hold back a smile.

“You cheated,” Mark grumbled. “You lured me here under false pretenses, telling me you had a surprise for me.”

“I do have a surprise for you,” she said, ignoring his protests. “Besides, a deal is a deal.”

Mark slowed his pace. “I might be in a wheelchair, but…”

“A wheelchair doesn’t have anything to do with this.” They’d struck a bargain, and she was going to ensure he kept his part of it. She’d promised him dinner and an evening for just the two of them—after he’d met her friends. She hadn’t told him yet that dinner would be at her house.

“You don’t play fair,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t matter. You agreed.”

“Might I remind you that you had your legs wrapped around my waist at the time?”

“Oh, did I?” She loved being in the pool with Mark, especially when they had the entire area to themselves. It was never more than ten or fifteen minutes at the end of a session, and it didn’t always happen. But when it did…The water seemed to free him, allowing him to show his need for her in ways he never would while sitting in his chair. They played in the water, teased and kissed and chased each other. Gradually, the barriers Mark had erected against her, against the world, were coming down.

“These are two of your gal pals who also have a list of Twenty Wishes, right?”

“Right. Anne Marie has a list and I believe Ellen’s got one, as well.”

Mark still wasn’t satisfied. “But why do I have to meet them?”

She sighed. “Do you need a reason for everything?”

“Well, yes, I do,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s just how I am.”

“I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.”

“Okay, okay, but at least tell me where we’re going now.”

“If you must know,” she said, and smiled down at him, “we’re meeting them at a Burger King.” She’d been looking forward to introducing him to Anne Marie for quite a while.

He frowned. “I don’t eat fast food.”

Barbie knew Mark was a real stickler about his diet. For one thing, he had to be careful about his weight.

“We aren’t eating there. I’m making dinner at my place.”

Mark’s frown deepened. “I can’t get into your house,” he muttered.

“Mark,” she said, coming to a halt. “Would I invite you if you couldn’t get your wheelchair into my home?”

He studied her closely. “You have a ramp?”

She nodded.

His eyes revealed his shock. “You’re serious about us. You must be, if you’re going to all this trouble.”

“Are you finished arguing with me now?” She started walking again and had gone several feet before she realized he hadn’t budged. “Are you coming or not?”

Slowly, he wheeled toward her. “You really know how to get to a guy.”

“I’m happy you think so.” The joy that coursed through her was enough to send her dancing through the streets.

When they reached the Burger King restaurant, Barbie held open the door. As soon as they were inside, Ellen skipped toward her. “Barbie! Barbie—” She stopped abruptly when she saw Mark.

“Ellen, this is my friend Mark.”

“Hello,” Ellen said and solemnly held out her hand, which Mark shook. “I saw you before.”

“Did you? Where?”

“At the St. Patrick’s Day party in Freeway Park.”

“Did I see you?”

Ellen shrugged. “You were watching Barbie.”

That wasn’t the way Barbie remembered it. “You were?”

“You didn’t even watch the singers,” Ellen elaborated, studying Mark. “The whole show, all you did was look at Barbie.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably and was saved from having to respond by Anne Marie who’d just joined them.

“You must be Mark,” she said. “Barbie’s told me about you.”

“Has she really?” He twisted around to stare up at her.

“She’s only said the most flattering things,” Anne Marie told him with a grin.