“Don’t know. The card’s addressed to you,” one of her employees announced.
Eagerly she removed the small envelope and tugged out the card. Mark had written his name, together with a short note. This time the flowers really are from me.
Chapter 27
The big day had finally come. Dolores Falk was going home after nearly a month away, first in the hospital and then a nursing facility. According to her physicians, the heart surgery had been a complete success and Dolores had many good years left.
Certainly Anne Marie had noticed a definite improvement in the older woman. Every day Dolores seemed to regain more of her strength and her spirit. She was as eager to get home as Ellen was to join her there.
Thursday morning at breakfast, Ellen talked incessantly about moving back with her grandmother. The instant she got home from school, she ran upstairs to pack her bag. Anne Marie could hear her telling Baxter that she’d visit him soon. Ellen had him repeat the tricks they’d practiced—rolling over and playing hide-and-seek with his tennis ball—a few times for good measure. “So you won’t forget,” she told him sternly.
Anne Marie drove the child to her old neighborhood. “Remember, your grandmother’s been very sick,” she cautioned her.
“I know. I won’t do anything to upset her,” Ellen promised.
She glanced at the girl sitting in the passenger seat, the dog on her lap. “You can come see Baxter whenever you want,” she said.
“Can I see you, too?”
“Of course.”
“Will you still be my Lunch Buddy?”
Ellen must’ve asked the same questions ten times since they’d been told that Dolores was being released. “Of course,” she said again.
“Goody.” And then as if she’d almost forgotten something important, Ellen added breathlessly, “What about Lillie and Barbie and Mrs. Beaumont? What about Lydia and Margaret and Susannah and Theresa?” she asked. “Will I be able to visit them, too?”
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Her friends and neighbors didn’t know yet that Ellen was moving back with her grandmother. As soon as they heard, they’d send their love to Ellen, and to Dolores.
“I’ll still knit every day,” Ellen assured her. She had a knitting bag now, the same as Anne Marie’s. Young as she was, the child had proven to be an adept knitter.
“Me, too,” Anne Marie said. She’d finished the lap robe for Dolores earlier and had given it to her during their most recent visit; she’d completed Melissa’s baby blanket, as well. For her third project she planned to knit Ellen a sweater and had chosen a simple cardigan pattern. The girl had picked out a soft rose-colored yarn. Ellen was working on a pair of mittens. She wanted to knit Anne Marie a sweater but Lydia had wisely suggested she knit one for Baxter first and then try a larger project. Ellen had agreed.
As she neared the street where Dolores lived, Anne Marie examined the neighborhood more closely than she had before. It consisted of mostly older homes, many of them in ill repair. Now Anne Marie couldn’t help wondering if this was a safe place for Ellen—or Dolores for that matter.
It’d been weeks since she’d seen the Falk home, which seemed even shabbier and more run-down now that she really looked at it. The front porch tilted, indicating the foundation had eroded on one side. The roof had a plastic tarp over part of it. Funny, Anne Marie hadn’t noticed that before. The yard needed some serious attention; the flower beds sprouted weeds and a lone rosebush struggled for survival, choked off by the encroaching lawn. A pang went through Anne Marie at leaving Ellen here. Yet, this was her home….
“After we say hello to your grandmother, I’ll need your help carrying in the groceries.” Before heading over to Dolores’s house, Anne Marie and Ellen had picked up some necessities. She didn’t think Dolores would be up to a trip to the grocery store anytime soon.
“Okay,” Ellen agreed. She’d already put Baxter in the back and unfastened her seat belt.
With a smile, Anne Marie watched Ellen dash out of the car and fly across the yard. She threw open the front door, then barreled inside. By the time Anne Marie entered the house, she found Ellen in her grandmother’s arms, both of them a little teary. For an instant Anne Marie felt like an intruder.
Dolores Falk looked up at Anne Marie. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my girl.”
“I was glad to do it,” Anne Marie said simply.
Holding on to her grandmother, Ellen said, “Anne Marie’s still going to be my Lunch Buddy and she said I can see Baxter anytime I want. We’re growing seeds and she taught me to knit and we knit every night after dinner when I’m finished my homework.”
Dolores had heard about Ellen’s knitting at least a dozen times. The child was more animated today than Anne Marie had ever seen her.
Breaking away from her grandmother, Ellen raced toward the hallway. “I want to see my room!”
“I didn’t have an actual bed for her at my place,” Anne Marie explained. “She slept on a pull-out sofa.” She wished now that she’d purchased a bed for Ellen, but it hadn’t seemed logical at the time. She couldn’t possibly have known the girl would be with her a full month.
Obviously fatigued, Dolores sank into her recliner. “I’m just so grateful for everything you did.”
“I’m going to miss her.” The apartment, tiny though it was, would seem empty without her.
Ellen tore back into the living room. “Should we bring my clothes in now?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Anne Marie said briskly. For a moment she’d forgotten about Ellen’s bags and the groceries. “We got a few things we thought you’d need for the first couple of days,” she told Dolores. “Enough to last until you can get to the grocery store.”
Dolores seemed about to weep. “God bless you.”
Anne Marie shrugged off her appreciation and, with Ellen at her side, returned to her vehicle. Baxter, lying in the backseat, didn’t seem pleased to be left out of the action.
“Can I take Baxter for a walk?” Ellen asked as she pressed her nose to the car window.
“Help me first and then you can take him. Just be sure his leash is secure.”
“Okay.”
They collected Ellen’s various bags, unloaded the groceries and brought everything inside. Anne Marie sorted through the cartons of milk and juice, the vegetables, cereal, cheese and bread, and organized them as logically as she could so Dolores wouldn’t have any problem locating what she needed.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked Dolores once Ellen had come back with the dog.
“No, no—you’ve done far more than I would’ve thought to ask.”
Anne Marie moved toward the front door, reluctant to leave. “Ellen, finish your homework, okay?”
“I will.”
“See you soon,” Anne Marie said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
“Okay.” Ellen hugged Baxter goodbye, then ran across the living room to throw her thin arms around Anne Marie, holding tight. Her shoulders trembled with her sobbing.
“Hey,” Anne Marie said, bending down. “This is your home, remember? You’re back with your Grandma Dolores. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, but…” Ellen sniffled. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, but we’ll see each other often.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, and I always keep my promises,” Anne Marie said. “You know that, right?” She rubbed Ellen’s back gently as the child nodded. “In fact, why don’t I stop by tomorrow evening to see how everything’s going?” Glancing over at Dolores, she asked, “If that’s okay with your grandmother?”
“That would be just fine,” Dolores said.
Anne Marie left a few minutes later. As she drove away from the bedraggled little house, she experienced an overwhelming sense of loss. For one wild moment, she felt a compelling urge to turn back. She couldn’t imagine what she’d say if she did. Ellen belonged with her grandmother; Dolores deeply loved this child. So did she. Anne Marie realized it with a shock that galvanized her.
She understood now that what she’d seen as affection, caring, a feeling of responsibility—all emotions she’d readily acknowledged—added up to one thing. Love.
She loved this little girl and wanted to be part of her life for as long as she could.
“Well, Baxter,” she murmured, sighing loudly. “It’s just you and me again.”
Her Yorkie, who’d been sitting up in the backseat, turned in a circle several times, then dropped down. He curled up, nose to tail, and Anne Marie thought he seemed as despondent as she was.
When she reached her quiet apartment, she roamed from room to room, feeling restless. Dissatisfied. Living here was only supposed to be a temporary situation. The apartment was empty when she’d separated from Robert and it had seemed the logical place to live while they sorted out their differences. It really was time to look for a house, a home for her and Baxter. She might see if she could find one in the same area as Ellen, a fixer-upper she could keep for a while and then sell for a nice profit.
As she moved into the kitchen to prepare a sandwich, Anne Marie stopped abruptly, recognizing something about herself. She was different than she’d been a month ago. She’d gradually changed into a woman who could make her own wishes come true. A woman who was ready to move on with her life. This was the gift Ellen had given her. She’d opened Anne Marie’s eyes to the many ways she’d been blessed, despite her losses, and the many possibilities that still existed.
Preparing for bed, she paused in the doorway to Ellen’s room. The bed was a sofa again, and Baxter had nestled on the cushion and gone to sleep, as if he expected the little girl to return.
The room was neat and orderly. Nothing of Ellen remained, and yet Anne Marie felt her presence. Many a night she’d stood right here, watching Ellen sleep. That ritual would come to an end now. But she couldn’t be sad about it because Ellen was where she wanted and needed to be, with the grandmother who adored her.
“Sleep tight, sweetie,” she whispered, then went to her own room to read before turning out the light.
Chapter 28
Lillie was as nervous as a bride the night before her wedding. Hector was coming to pick her up and bring her to his place for dinner. They’d seen each other a number of times, but this was different.
Hector had invited her to his home.
Lillie felt as if she’d passed some test, and that the invitation to visit his home was Hector’s way of saying he trusted her and was willing to reveal more of his life.
When the doorbell rang, she pressed her hand over her heart and took a deep breath before walking to the front door and opening it. As always Hector was punctual.
“Good evening, Lillie,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”
“No. I mean, yes, I had a lovely afternoon.” Rather than explain her initial response, she gathered up her sweater, made of silver-blue cashmere, and her purse.
