The Knitting Diaries (8 page)

A
nne Marie heard from Mel every day for the next week. He phoned at least once and sometimes twice. Invariably he’d invite her somewhere—dinner, a movie, even just coffee—but Anne Marie always found an excuse. Still, Mel persisted. Finally, unable to put him off any longer, she agreed to meet him for a drink on Friday night, after work. Conveniently, Ellen had a playdate with another girl from school.

Tim phoned, too, but he spoke only to Ellen and, other than a polite exchange of greetings, he didn’t have
anything to say to Anne Marie. His lack of communication made her realize how much she’d come to rely on him and how much she’d looked forward to their conversations.

Lillie Higgins stopped by the bookstore early Friday afternoon. Lillie was not only a good friend, but one of Anne Marie’s best customers. A voracious reader, she’d built up an extensive library and often purchased several hardcovers at a time.

“Oh, the book you ordered came in,” Anne Marie said. She’d meant to phone and leave a message earlier, but had gotten sidetracked, which seemed to be the norm lately. She really did need to focus on business, she told herself, instead of the sad state of her personal life.

“I thought it must have,” Lillie said as she walked up to the service counter. “It usually takes you about three days to get a special order in.”

While Anne Marie retrieved the Mexican cookbook for her, Lillie wandered over to the new display Teresa had arranged. “I haven’t heard from you since the move.” She picked up the latest bestseller by a popular suspense author and flipped through the pages. “I got your thank-you note. Hector and I enjoyed ourselves.”

“I really appreciate everyone’s help,” Anne Marie said.

“That Tim is quite the character, isn’t he?” Lillie commented with a laugh. “While we were loading up the truck, he and Ellen were singing ABBA songs at the top of their lungs. He actually has quite a nice voice. Ellen, too.”

At the mention of Tim’s name, Anne Marie lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to think about him, yet he was constantly on her mind. Not an hour passed without her being reminded of him in some way.

“My dear,” Lillie said, placing one beautifully manicured hand on Anne Marie’s arm. “What is it? Did I say something to upset you?”

“No…”

“Is it Tim?”

Anne Marie nodded. “We had a…falling out.”

“Over Ellen?”

“Not exactly.” Based on what he’d said to her daughter, he seemed to regret their argument. So did she. Perhaps he felt it best to keep his distance, step aside and give her a chance to work things out with Mel. She wasn’t sure how to interpret this painful silence, this…discord between them. All she knew was that she had to find some way of resolving it.

“I remember how awkward it was when Hector and I first started seeing each other,” Lillie said. “His family objected, and Barbie had her doubts, too. Neither of us wanted to cause problems, so we ended our relationship. I have to tell you, I’ve never been more miserable in my life.”

“That’s where I am right now,” Anne Marie told her.

“Then
do
something about it,” Lillie said. “If you have feelings for Tim, you need to tell him.”

Lillie made everything sound so straightforward. Unfortunately, Anne Marie’s situation was anything but. She liked Mel and enjoyed his company, but he didn’t stir her senses, didn’t make her feel the passion or excitement she felt with Tim. Mel was attentive and smart and she knew he loved her. But she didn’t return his feelings. And there was nothing she could do about that. She couldn’t force emotions that simply weren’t there.

“You’ll tell him, won’t you?” Lillie urged.

“I…I don’t know yet.” One thing was certain: she
couldn’t move forward with Tim—if he even wanted to—until she’d broken off with Mel. And that wasn’t going to be easy.

Mel had suggested they meet at the Italian restaurant where they’d gone on their first date. So their relationship would begin and end at the same place. That wasn’t a comforting thought. But there was no option other than honesty. Anne Marie would drink her glass of wine, then as gently as possible confess she was in love with Tim. After that, she’d be on her way.

She hoped.

By the time she arrived at Ti Amo Sempre, Mel had secured a table by the window. He stood as she approached and kissed her cheek. He’d already ordered her favorite wine, a Malbec from the Mendoza region of Argentina. His thoughtfulness made this final meeting even more awkward.

As she picked up her wine, Mel also raised his glass. “To Fridays,” he said.

Anne Marie touched the rim of her glass to his. “To Fridays.”

“You had a busy week,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Nervous, Anne Marie reached for a handful of the nuts their waiter had delivered with the wine. Her week had actually been slow, but she’d invented excuse after excuse not to see Mel, most of them related to the business, which led him to believe she’d been overwhelmed by a huge influx of new inventory and custom orders.

“You, too,” she murmured, evading the truth for another few minutes—or seconds.

“Very busy,” he said solemnly

She responded with a weak smile, then drew in a
deep breath and plunged forward, forgoing any further exchange of pleasantries. “I think you already know why I wanted to meet you this evening,” she said quickly. Her stomach was in knots, and all she could concentrate on was saying what needed to be said.

“I asked
you
out, remember?” he said. “Now, relax and enjoy your wine. It’s your favorite.”

“I know…but I can’t relax.”

“Try.” He gestured for her to take another sip. “The wine will help.”

Anne Marie did, and Mel was right; the wine did make her feel calmer. “You came into my life at a turning point,” she began.

“And you came into mine when I needed you.”

Anne Marie nodded, trying not to wince, wondering how he’d react to her announcement. “I’ve really enjoyed our times together,” she said.

“I have, too, which makes this all the more difficult for me.”

Difficult for
him?
Anne Marie glanced up, unsure of his meaning.

“I’ve met someone else, Anne Marie,” he said. “I’ve been trying to tell you all week, but whenever I called, you had some work problem that demanded your attention and we couldn’t chat.”

She blinked, certain she’d misunderstood him. “You’ve…met someone else?”

“Yes, a woman from my office, who’s closer to my own age. We have a lot in common.”

“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago. Remember the Saturday you moved? Renee was at the office, too. After my appointment, she suggested we grab a bite to eat. We had a great
time. I had no idea what a wonderful sense of humor she has.”

Anne Marie was having trouble assimilating all this. “Mel, are you being honest with me?” She wanted to make sure he wasn’t fabricating this story in order to ease her conscience.

“The truth is, I probably wouldn’t have given Renee a second glance if it wasn’t for the fact that I already knew I was losing you.”

“Oh, Mel.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I found out she’s had her eye on me for quite a while.”

Anne Marie laughed out loud. “You have no idea how much better this makes me feel.”

Mel laughed, too, his expression almost boyish. “Tim’s a good man.”

“I think so, too.”

“I regret the way I behaved earlier. I wish you both the best.”

Rather than explain that she hadn’t exactly worked out the situation with Tim, she let Mel assume all was well between them.

“I hope you and Renee find happiness together,” she said. Mel had graciously wished her the best and it seemed only fitting that she do the same. Besides, she meant it. He deserved to be with a woman who cared about him with the same intensity she felt toward Tim.

“Let’s keep in touch,” he said.

“Let’s,” she agreed.

“I’ll update you on what’s happening with me and Renee.”

“I’d like that.”

They finished their wine, and after Mel had paid the
bill they walked outside into the still-bright evening. On the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, they hugged, then went their separate ways. For the first time in weeks, Anne Marie felt she could smile.

Then she thought of the coming conversation with Tim, and all her anxieties returned.

S
aturday morning the doorbell rang while Anne Marie sorted laundry. She’d started taking every other Saturday off in order to spend more time with Ellen. When her
daughter didn’t immediately rush to answer, Anne Marie left the stack of soiled laundry in front of the washer and hurried toward the hall. Baxter was barking wildly. She calmed him and told him to sit—to her great satisfaction he obeyed instantly—then opened the door.

When she saw Tim standing there, she nearly gasped with shock. He was the last person she’d expected—and the most welcome. While she yearned to yank open the screen door and throw herself into his arms, she resisted.

“Hi,” she managed, her voice, even to her own ears, sounding breathless and strange.

“Is Ellen here?” he asked stiffly.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Not really. I came by to make sure her bike’s working properly after I fixed it.”

“It’s fine.” His excuse was so flimsy, she had to suspect there was another reason—one that had to do with
her.
Now that he was here, Anne Marie had no intention of letting him go. “Come inside, Tim,” she said again, opening the screen door to usher him in. “I’m glad to see you.”

He met her eyes as if to gauge the sincerity of her words.

“I’ve missed you,” she added.

“Good,” he said mildly, although his expression gave nothing away.

“Good?” she repeated. “You
wanted
me to miss you?”

He didn’t respond, except with a smile. A very slight smile.

“Did you miss me?” she asked.

“That’s not the point.”

“As a matter of fact, it is. I want to know if you thought about me in the past week.”

He shrugged.

“That’s no answer.”

“If I admitted you were on my mind every minute of every day, would you lord it over me?”

Her smile was so wide it hurt her mouth. “I might.”

“That’s what I figured. Women are like that. They demand their pound of flesh—and this time my Shakespearean quote
is
correct.”

“Yes, it is, but the context is wrong.” Anne Marie frowned. “You were doing very well until you said that. You should know I’m not going to let you make derogatory comments about half of humanity.”

“You’re the one who was going to lord it over me if I admitted I missed you—which I did.”

“I already admitted I missed you, but I’ll say it again.” There, she’d extended an olive branch.

He grinned and looked so appealing that it was all she could do not to kiss him right then and there.

“Mom!” Ellen skipped out of the kitchen, clutching the phone in one hand. She stopped when she saw Tim. “Oh, hi, Dad.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Mom, can April come over and play?”

“That’s fine.”

“Can she bring Iris, too?”

“Yes.”

“Can she stay for lunch?”

Anne Marie nodded.

“Thanks, Mom.” Ellen brought the phone back to her ear and returned to the kitchen, chattering as she walked.

“Okay, where were we?” Anne Marie asked, her hand on her hip.

Tim smiled again. “I believe you just said you missed me so much that your whole world’s sad and gray.”

Anne Marie felt her mouth twitch. “Ah…that’s not quite the way I remember it.”

“I was close, though, wasn’t I?”

Anne Marie had a question of her own. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I called.”

“To talk to Ellen, but not me.”

He sobered, and his smile faded. “How’s Mel?”

“Very well. We had drinks last night.”

A muscle tightened in Tim’s jaw. “I see.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“I’m here to check on Ellen’s bike. I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“Your being here has nothing to do with Ellen’s bicycle.” She wasn’t going to play that silly game with him.

“If you’re still involved with Mel, then I don’t think we have much to say to each other.”

“Are you always this obtuse?”

“I’m not the least bit obtuse.”

That was when Ellen came back into the living room. “April’s on her way over.”

Anne Marie turned her attention to her daughter. “I’ll start lunch in a few minutes. Right now your father and I are having a discussion.”

Ellen remained where she was. “Are you fighting?”

“No,” Anne Marie said.

“Yes,” Tim said.

“We’re having a difference of opinion,” Anne Marie clarified, glaring at Tim.

“Did you tell him about my twenty-first wish?” the girl asked.

“No.” Furthermore, she had no intention of doing so.

Ellen’s face fell.

“What’s your twenty-first wish?” Tim asked.

“I’ll make lunch.” Without waiting for anyone to agree or disagree, Anne Marie left the room. She searched the refrigerator, and not finding anything that suited her, took out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. Ellen would be happy with that, and she hoped April would, too.

The sandwiches were ready when Tim entered the kitchen. He pulled out a bar stool and perched on it. “Did you make me one of those?”

“No. Should I have?”

“It would’ve been the polite thing to do.”

She extracted two slices from the loaf of bread. “At the moment I don’t feel like being polite.”

“So I noticed.” He didn’t say anything as she prepared his peanut butter sandwich, cut it in quarters, and set the plate in front of him. “Do you want a glass of milk, too?”

“I might shock you if I told you what I want.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

He leaned forward and braced his hands on the edge of the counter. “I have wishes of my own. I’ve never written them down the way Ellen has, but I’ve given those wishes a great deal of thought, especially in the last few weeks.”

Anne Marie leaned against the counter, too, and waited for him to continue. “What kind of wishes?”

“Well, one wish was to find my daughter.”

“That was granted.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Go on.” She refused to let him sidetrack her.

“Another was to fall in love.”

“Vanessa, right?”

“Fall in love
again
,” he amended.

Still standing on the other side of the counter, she pressed her palms against it. Their faces were only inches apart. “And?”

“I fell so hard, it was like nothing I’d ever felt before.”

“Then…”

“Then I discovered that the woman I loved was involved with someone else.”

“If we’re talking about the same woman—”

“I think we must be.”

“Then that…woman’s been doing her utmost to explain that she’s no longer ‘involved’ with this other man.”

“No longer involved?” Tim repeated. “Since when?”

“Since last night when they met for a drink. However, the person she’s been wanting to tell has been obtuse—yes, obtuse—and is severely trying her patience.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It is.”

“What I’d like to know is if this woman you mentioned is in love with me.”

Anne Marie reached for a quarter of his sandwich and took a bite. “I think she must be.”

“You
think?
You mean to say you aren’t sure?”

“Well…it’s a big decision to love another person.” Recalling her conversation with Lydia, about how love was ultimately a choice, she used the word
decision
deliberately. Yes, the emotions, the sensations, might be
involuntary, but real love was also something chosen. Something that had to be cherished and protected.

“I agree. Very big.”

“There’s commitment, to each other and to any children….”

Tim nodded. “One might suggest marriage as a way of keeping that commitment.”

“One might.”

“That’s another of my wishes,” he said.

Anne Marie set her piece of the sandwich aside. “Marriage requires a lot of trust.”

“Yes, it does. It’s—”

He stopped when Ellen and April walked in. Ellen immediately looked at Anne Marie, then at Tim and back again. “Are you two still fighting?” she asked.

“We aren’t fighting,” Tim assured her.

“We’re discussing our wishes,” Anne Marie said.

“Wishes?” April asked curiously.

“Mom and I made a list of twenty wishes,” Ellen explained to her friend. “I have twenty-one now. I added one.”

“I added one to my list, as well,” Anne Marie said.

“You did?” Ellen stared at her. “Are you going to tell us what it is?”

Anne Marie nodded. “My wish is that you and Tim and I can one day be a family.”

“I like that wish,” Tim said in a low voice, a voice full of meaning.

“I do, too.” Ellen pointed to the counter. “Is that our lunch?”

Anne Marie handed her daughter and April their plates.

“Can we eat in my bedroom?” Ellen asked.

“Yes, just this once. And don’t feed the dogs.”

“Okay.”

The girls disappeared down the hallway.

“Now where were we?” Anne Marie murmured.

“I believe we were talking about wishes coming true. Even twenty-first wishes.”

“I do believe you’re right,” she whispered.

Tim reached for her with the kitchen counter between them. It didn’t take her long to skirt around it and find her way completely into his arms. Then they were laughing and talking between kisses, unable to stop touching and holding each other.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Tim said. “I want us to get married soon.”

“I wasn’t kidding, either—” But she didn’t finish her sentence because Tim was kissing her again.

They were startled by Ellen’s voice. “Mom,” she said, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Tim and Anne Marie broke apart as Anne Marie straightened her blouse and tried to look as normal as possible.

Ellen wore a huge grin as she put the empty plates in the sink. “You’re going to need the bride’s purse I’m making, aren’t you?”

Tim slipped his arm around Anne Marie’s waist. “She is. How fast can you knit?”

“Real fast,” Ellen told him, and then with her arms wide open she hugged them both.