Читать книгу Blossom Street - Debbie Macomber - Страница 90

ELISE BEAUMONT

Now that Maverick was living in his condominium, Elise missed him. She’d made the difficult decision to remain where she was for now, but she was miserable without Maverick. She missed everything about him. It’d been that way after the divorce, too. The scent of him, the feel of him, the incredible joy of watching him with their infant daughter …

The ache inside her seemed to grow day by day. And yet it wasn’t as if she didn’t see him. Maverick was at the house almost daily for one reason or another. Each and every visit, he attempted to lure her to his home, to convince her he was a changed man and that she could trust him. So far she’d resisted, but her resolve was weakening. She could feel it crack under the pressure of her own needs, but she dared not give in.

Elise half-expected Maverick this morning. He knew as well as she did that Aurora intended to take the boys shopping for school clothes. The house would be theirs if they chose to take advantage of it.

Half an hour after her daughter left, Elise was anxiously pacing the kitchen. When the bell rang, she dashed to the front door and threw it open. Maverick was right about her—in one area, especially. Elise had a thriving sexual appetite. She’d supressed it all these years but, beginning the night he had told her he was leaving, she’d given it free rein. She liked nothing better than to take her ex-husband to bed in the middle of a hot afternoon. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. If anyone ever learned about this secret part of her nature, she’d die of mortification. She’d simply die.

She loved how much Maverick loved her. All they needed was each other. And yet … could they live with each other?

Elise was afraid that joining her life with his would end the same way it had before. It was inevitable that he’d succumb to his compulsion to gamble again, and she couldn’t handle that.

Despite her hopes, it wasn’t Maverick at the door. “Bethanne!” Elise held open the screen door. Something must be very wrong, because her friend was so pale. “Come in, come in.”

“I hope you don’t mind me just showing up like this.”

“Of course not.” Elise led the way to the living room. She offered to make coffee or tea, but Bethanne declined with a quick shake of her head.

Bethanne sat down on the sofa, plucking a tissue from her purse. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry and look at me. I haven’t said a word and I’m already an emotional wreck.”

Elise sat across from her. “Start at the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened.”

Bethanne bit her trembling lower lip. “I—I’ve been to six banks now, and each one rejected my loan application.” While Elise listened, Bethanne reviewed the first five banks and the rejections, which were all because she was considered a poor loan risk.

“Then I talked to Lydia, and she mentioned a neighborhood bank that gave her a loan recently. She told me there were things about her history that made her look like a poor risk, too. On paper, anyway. But you and I both know that Lydia’s a fabulous businessperson. She has more financial sense in her little finger than I do in my entire body. But I’m willing to learn.”

“Of course you can learn,” Elise assured her. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Bethanne this upset—not even when she’d first talked about the divorce. “Did you apply with this bank Lydia recommended?” she asked.

Bethanne nodded. “At Lydia’s insistence, I used her as a reference.” She stopped talking long enough to blow her nose. “I just heard back from them yesterday afternoon. After a lot of debate, they decided to refuse me the loan. Elise,” she cried, “I don’t know what to do.”

If Elise had the money herself, she’d lend it to her. In some ways, she felt responsible; she’d been the one to suggest the party business and she was proud of Bethanne’s success.

“How can I help?” she asked.

Bethanne took a moment to collect herself. “Just by listening to me,” she whispered, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice. “I … I admire you so much and I’m so grateful I met you.”

“Me?” Elise blushed at the praise. All she’d ever done was encourage Bethanne. Elise had been a single mother herself, and knew the hardships that entailed.

“Oh, Elise, you’re such a good friend.”

Now it was her turn to tear up. Naturally, she’d had friends through the years, but she’d come to realize that those relationships were superficial. There was no real grief in leaving them behind. Somehow, it was different with the knitting group. Her reserve had slowly begun to dissolve; she even found herself talking about Maverick. Of course, she hadn’t shared the fact that they were sleeping together—that was far too intimate a detail—but she wouldn’t be surprised if her friends had guessed. Until this summer she’d hardly ever mentioned his name.

“I found out something wonderful about Lydia,” Bethanne said. “One time she told me she didn’t owe a single penny to anyone. She was proud of that. All the yarn in her store’s paid for and—until she got this loan—she was pretty well debt-free.”

Elise nodded; she approved of doing business on a pay-as-you-go basis. Far too many young people got caught in the credit trap. It was too easy to use a credit card and pay later. Except that the debt always grew so much faster than anyone seemed to expect. She’d seen it with her own daughter and son-in-law, warned them as gently as she could and then shut up.

“I didn’t want to ask Lydia why she needed a loan. But later Margaret pulled me aside and said Lydia had given the money to her.”

Elise couldn’t hide her surprise. Not at the fact that Lydia had given her sister money, but that Margaret would freely volunteer this information.

“I think she felt sorry for me and wanted to encourage me and I think—I think she wanted me to know what a wonderful sister she has,” Bethanne said.

“Margaret needed the money?”

Bethanne nodded. “She told me her husband’s been out of work for the last six months and they’d gotten behind on their house payments.”

“God bless Lydia,” Elise whispered.

“And she’s hurting so badly,” Bethanne added.

“And now her mother’s in a nursing home.”

“It’s come to that?” The last Elise heard, Margaret and Lydia were researching assisted living facilities.

“She shouldn’t be there more than a week or two,” Bethanne said, “but it’s expensive, even as an interim solution.”

“This doesn’t seem to be a good time economically for any of us, does it?”

“I just hope I can survive for the next few months.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Elise told her. “This business is just too promising to be ignored for long.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so.”

Bethanne stared down at the carpet, then sighed deeply. “I so badly want to believe you.”

“Did you get someone to help you with the bookkeeping?” Elise asked, moving on to practical matters.

The younger woman nodded. “Paul’s been going over everything with me.”

The doorbell sounded and before Elise could answer, Maverick strolled into the room, looking about as debonair as she’d ever seen him. Her heart skipped a beat. His gaze went from Elise to Bethanne and back again.

“I can come another time,” he said.

An automatic protest rose in her throat, but she needn’t have worried.

“No, please don’t. I should go,” Bethanne insisted. “I came because I had to talk to a friend. All I really needed was for Elise to tell me I’m not a failure.”

She stood and Elise led her to the front door. Before Bethanne left, they hugged. “Call me anytime, understand?”

Bethanne nodded. “Thank you so much for listening.”

“Anytime,” she repeated.

“I’ll see you Tuesday.” And then Bethanne was gone.

Elise turned to find Maverick standing in the foyer watching her.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“She’s been rejected for six bank loans and is about to give up.”

He frowned. “You’ve been very good to her.”

Elise dismissed his words. “She’s been wonderful to me.”

Maverick slowly advanced toward her. “You’re one hell of a woman, Elise Beaumont.” He slipped his arms around her waist and brought her close with a gentleness that melted her worries.

“Oh, Maverick …”

He kissed her and whispered promises that made her knees weak.

“Come home with me,” he pleaded. “You won’t be sorry.”

She refused with an adamant “No.”

“Elise, I need you with me.”

“I can’t.” The minute she was in his apartment he’d find a way to convince her to move in. She loved him. Despite his flaws and weakness, she loved him.

But she still wasn’t sure she could trust him.