Reluctantly Tim stood up. “Come on,” he said to Vanessa.
“Let’s talk about this without half the hospital listening in.”
They left and Anne Marie relaxed a little. She’d had enough of Vanessa’s hysterics for one day. Brushing her disheveled hair out of her face, she closed her eyes and wondered if she’d made a big mistake letting Tim into their lives. Just then, it seemed she had.
Before she could brood any more on the situation, the technician was back with Ellen and a copy of the X-ray. “Looks like you’re going to get a cast,” he said to Ellen. Her daughter’s face was dry of tears now but her eyes were wide and curious. “Can I have a pink one?”
“I’ll see what Dr. Sawyer has to say about that.”
It took another hour before the arm was set and the cast in place. Ellen looked admiringly down at her arm, which was encased in a hot-pink cast, and smiled up at Anne Marie. “It still hurts really bad.”
“I know it does, sweetheart.”
Ellen scooted out of the chair. “Where’s Dad?”
“With Vanessa.”
Ellen said nothing, just stared at the f loor. The assistant brought in paperwork for Anne Marie to sign. Once she did, they were free to go. Tim sat out in the waiting area and stood up when they appeared.
Ellen showed no delight at seeing him.
Tim knelt in front of her. “How’s my girl?” he asked.
“Okay. I have a cast.”
“So I see.”
“If you’d take me back to my car, I’d appreciate it,” Anne Marie said wearily.
“Of course. My dad lent me his. All I had at the house was the Harley.”
Anne Marie didn’t care who the car belonged to as long as she got where she needed to go. On the drive back to the family home, she didn’t inquire about Vanessa. Frankly, she didn’t care where the other woman was; she was just grateful not to be dealing with her anymore.
Anne Marie sat in the backseat with Ellen and got out as soon as he’d parked. All she wanted to do was escape, to get her daughter home.
“Apologize to your parents for me,” she said, unfastening Ellen’s seat belt. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
Hands in his pockets, Tim stood helplessly by as Anne Marie led Ellen to her car. “If there’s anything I can do…” he offered.
“There isn’t,” she said stiff ly.
“Can I phone you later and see how Ellen’s doing?”
She didn’t mean to be rude but she couldn’t face him again that night. “I’d rather you didn’t. Tomorrow would be f ine.”
“Okay.” He accepted that without argument. “Remember to call if there’s anything I can do.”
She nodded, but as far as Anne Marie was concerned Tim had done quite enough.
Chapter 33
Alix Turner
“Alix, we need to talk.”
Alix tensed. She recognized her employer’s tone of voice and it was ominous. Alix had already had a heart-toheart with Winter Adams, owner of the French Café, a few days earlier.
Alix had made a costly mistake this morning, her second that week. In both instances the entire batch of dough had to be dumped, wasting the ingredients and the time. Alix knew she was in the wrong, and she knew the mistakes had occurred because she was so agitated, mentally and physically. Although she’d gone several days without a cigarette, her body still screamed for nicotine. It was supposed to get easier, but it hadn’t. She knew why, too, but that didn’t help.
“Are you going to f ire me?” Alix demanded. She stepped into the off ice and held herself rigid, expecting the worst. It was what she deserved. If having to toss two different batches wasn’t bad enough, Alix had been irritable all week. She was afraid her employer had grown tired of her short temper, and what had happened this morning was the f inal straw. Winter obviously intended to let her go.
She looked at Alix and sighed loudly. “It’s not what I want to do. If you recall, I asked you to take over as manager next week when I’m on vacation.”
“But you’re doing it anyway, right?” Alix didn’t know why she felt the need to ask. Losing her job now would be disastrous. She and Jordan were living at the lake house, so with saving for a place of their own, increased transportation costs and much higher utilities, their budget was stretched to the limit. She’d had to give up cigarettes out of necessity as much as desire. She simply couldn’t afford to smoke.
“No,” Winter returned thoughtfully. “You’ve been a wonderful employee until just recently. I’m hoping you can resolve whatever’s bothering you.” She looked directly at Alix. “Do you think that’s possible?”
Alix swallowed hard and nodded. It was easy to blame her bad mood on her need for a smoke; however, the reason was more than her craving for nicotine.
The cigarettes were a convenient excuse, but the underlying problem was her fear of motherhood. She yearned for a child; at the same time the prospect still terrif ied her. Jordan did his best to reassure her but Alix couldn’t help worrying about her abilities as a mother. Her husband was willing to take the risk, willing to believe they’d be good parents. Alix was the one who doubted.
“I’ll work on a better attitude,” Alix promised as she left the office.
“Giving up smoking isn’t easy,” Winter said sympathetically.
“It causes mood swings and concentration problems—but with you I sense it’s more than that.”
“It is,” Alix agreed.
“Do you need some time to clear your head?” Winter asked.
“Could I have an hour?”
“Absolutely.”
Removing her apron, Alix decided she’d take a walk. She set out for the small park close to Blossom Street, her strides brisk, her thoughts no less so.
The day was overcast, dark skies threatening rain, but the weather suited her mood. The play section of the park was deserted. Alix sat on a swing and placed both hands on the chain, gently swaying back and forth.
“Hi.”
Alix glanced up to see Casey Marshall standing off to one side, looking morose. They’d talked a couple of times and understood each other, since they shared a similar background, with all the insecurities it engendered.
“Hey, what’s got you down?” Alix asked, putting aside her own troubles.
“I came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“I’m going to my new foster home next week.”
“So soon?”
Casey bit her lip. “It’s a good place. Evelyn told me. The best, she said.”
“I hated moving, too,” Alix told her. She remembered stuff ing everything she possessed in a small suitcase, leaving behind friends, pets and life as she’d known it for those months or years. Settling in with a new family was always diff icult. She’d hated starting over.
“It’s just that…” Casey left the rest unsaid. She sat in the swing next to Alix and kicked at the ground with the toe of her tennis shoes.
Alix didn’t need her to f inish the thought. “It’s hard to leave Lydia and Brad, isn’t it?”
Casey nodded. “They…they’re great. I know I sort of got pushed on them,” she murmured. “They want to adopt a baby…
Everyone does, right?”
“Right.” Alix couldn’t argue with the facts. Infants were quickly adopted and older children were often shuff led from home to home, family to family, never having the opportunity to put down roots in any one community.
“When I f irst came to them, I…I didn’t want to be there. It was only supposed to be a couple of days. Lydia and Brad opened their home to me and…and their hearts, too. I didn’t want to like them, but I did. I do.” Sadness seemed to emanate from her as she stared down at the ground.
“I know.” And Alix did. In the beginning she’d tried to blend in with her foster families, too, trying to prove she could be one of them, that she was worthy of love.
“It didn’t work,” Casey continued. “Everything I did was a disaster.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Alix was well aware of how hard Lydia had tried to make Casey feel welcome and part of their family.
“It is! ” Casey cried. “Last night I tried to surprise Lydia and make dinner and then the casserole boiled over and smoke was pouring out of the oven and the f ire alarm started beeping and dinner was ruined.” She said this in one giant breath.
“Did Brad or Lydia get upset?”
Casey shook her head. “Brad made a big joke of it. He said the f ire alarm should be called the dinner bell.”
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Alix smiled.
“And Cody thought it was cool ’cause we had to order pizza.”
“And Lydia?”
Casey glanced away. “Lydia…put her arm around me and said I shouldn’t worry about it. Then she showed me where she keeps the bigger casserole dish so if I wanted to try again I’d know which one to use.”
“So no one was upset with you.”
Casey jerked her head up. “I was upset with me,” she countered. “This was my way of thanking them and the whole dinner backf ired.”
The girl still looked upset; Alix understood that. Casey had wanted to do something nice and instead she’d revealed her incompetence. She was being unnecessarily hard on herself, which was a tendency Alix shared. She exaggerated every little thing that went wrong. At the moment Alix was sure Casey felt her whole life had been one mistake after another and everything she attempted was a disaster.
“That’s not all, either,” Casey said. “Lydia hired me to do small jobs at the store and she even paid me. She didn’t need to do that, but she did and then I goofed up really bad.”
“How?”
It didn’t seem possible that Casey’s shoulders could droop any lower, but they did. “Lydia asked me to put price stickers on a shipment of yarn. There were two different kinds of yarn and I accidentally switched the prices, so the expensive yarn was priced really low. As soon as I got it on the shelf, a lady came in and bought every skein and said Lydia had to give her the price I put on.”
“Did Lydia do it?”
Casey nodded.
Alix would bet Margaret had something to say about that.
“I told Lydia I’d pay her back but she said it wasn’t that big a deal. It was, though, and she lost a lot of money because I was careless.”
“Casey,” Alix said, “everyone makes mistakes. I made a big one this morning at the café and my employer had an excellent excuse to let me go.”
“What did you do that was so bad?” she asked as though it couldn’t possibly have been as bad as what she’d done. Alix wasn’t keen on proclaiming her stupidity. “I forgot the sugar in the cinnamon rolls. I bake them practically every morning and today I just left it out and the whole batch was ruined.”
“Did everyone get mad?”
“No, but those ingredients cost money, and then there’s also the time involved. Ms. Adams could’ve f ired me, with good reason.”
