Читать книгу Blossom Street - Debbie Macomber - Страница 96

ELISE BEAUMONT

Bethanne’s invitation to visit was a welcome reprieve in the middle of Elise’s week. Bethanne had asked if she’d help check her budget. Elise was no expert, but she was willing to do what she could. She was also grateful for an excuse to get out of the house.

Neither Aurora nor David ever mentioned Maverick in her presence. Unfortunately her grandsons, oblivious to the tension between their estranged grandparents, dragged his name into practically every conversation. Maverick was playing in some poker game in the Carry Bean, as the boys called it. She wished him well, but she couldn’t be part of his life. Their second attempt at being a couple was as much of a failure as the first. No, it was over for good.

The bus dropped her off a block from Bethanne’s. She liked the other woman and found that they had more in common than anyone might expect. As divorced mothers, they’d been left to deal with the children and the house and everything else. Well, no need to dwell on that old history now, she decided.

The Hamlins’ neighborhood was a busy one, and the house itself was charming. Elise walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, admiring the garden as she did. She’d just leaned over to take a closer look at a huge, coppery chrysanthemum when a smiling Bethanne opened the door. A pot of tea and a plate of brownies waited on the kitchen table.

“Thank you for doing this,” Bethanne said, handing over a spiral notebook. “I asked you because this whole party business was your idea and … well, because you seem so clear-headed and sensible to me.” She sighed. “I’ve gone over these figures a dozen times and after a while, everything starts to blur.”

“I know what you mean.”

Bethanne had listed her monthly expenses in one column and the total alimony and child support she received from Grant in another. On a separate page, she’d set out the anticipated income from the parties she’d booked, including the deposits already paid, and the costs for each.

Elise looked over all the lists and glanced up to see Bethanne watching her. “You need to charge more for your parties,” she said decisively. Before Bethanne could protest, she asked, “What’s your hourly wage?”

“I—I don’t know. I just add twenty percent to the cost of each party and that’s what I charge.”

Elise shook her head. “That’s not near enough. Don’t forget, you’re putting your creative genius behind each event.”

“Creative genius,” Bethanne repeated. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

“It’s true.” Elise refused to diminish Bethanne’s talent. “You’re offering something unique. No party is like any other. Each one’s exclusively designed around the child’s interests. But if you feel you might be pricing yourself out of a job …”

“I do,” she murmured. “People can’t afford to pay me an outrageous fee on top of all their other expenses.”

“Then standardize the parties. Make up a list of your favorites, the ones you’ve already created, and offer those when people call to inquire. Establish a price for each one, and give them the option of a standard party or a customized one.”

Bethanne’s eyes lit up. “Of course … of course. I should’ve thought of that.” She smiled. “I can buy supplies in bulk and save money that way, too. Not to mention time.”

“You might also contract with a local bakery, for the cakes.”

They looked at each other and both spoke at the same moment. “Alix.”

“Alix,” Elise repeated, “would be perfect. Plus she’d be bringing business into the French Café and that’s a feather in her cap.”

“Fabulous.” Bethanne jumped up and gave Elise an impulsive hug. “Thank you, thank you, Elise. You’re the real genius here.”

Elise smiled with pleasure. Before she left, she reminded Bethanne to pay herself better. “Start with twenty dollars an hour,” she said. “And your hours should include your preparation time, plus cleanup and driving.”

Bethanne promised she would.

Later, on the bus ride home, Elise felt the satisfaction of having helped a friend. But it wasn’t a one-way street by any means; she’d learned from Bethanne too. The younger woman’s lack of bitterness and anger toward Grant impressed her. When Elise had commented on her calm acceptance, Bethanne said she considered it a gift that had come to her because of the divorce.

In Elise’s view, divorce didn’t mean anything except gut-wrenching emotional agony. But Bethanne had found nuggets of wisdom buried in the pain and suffering Grant’s betrayal had brought into her life.

When Elise entered the house, she thought no one was home. Then she heard the sound of the television. Since it was a bright, sunny afternoon, she couldn’t imagine why the entire family would be staring at the TV.

“What’s going on?” she asked, as she stood just inside the family room.

“Shh.” Luke beckoned her in. “Grandpa’s on TV,” he whispered.

“Mom.” Aurora glanced over her shoulder. “Sit with me. Dad’s playing poker on national TV.”

“No, thank you.” Elise whirled around so fast, she nearly lost her balance. Television or not, it didn’t matter. Gambling was gambling. There’d be no stopping Maverick now that he’d made it all the way to national television. He’d live on that high for months to come, thinking he was invincible—that he couldn’t lose.

“Mom?” A short time later, Aurora tapped gently on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Elise was determined to say something about allowing the children to … to admire their grandfather when it was obvious he had a problem.

“You looked upset when you got home.”

Elise had made no effort to hide her feelings, but the entire family had been so absorbed in watching Maverick that it surprised her anyone had noticed.

“Dad—”

“It would be best if we didn’t discuss your father.” She’d said this before and needed to say it again. Only a couple of hours earlier she’d marveled at Bethanne’s attitude toward Grant. Elise wanted to find that same kind of peace with Maverick, and hadn’t.

Aurora sat on the edge of Elise’s bed. “I think we should discuss Dad one last time.”

Elise’s nod was reluctant.

“Don’t you want to know if he won or lost?”

“Not really.” She reached for her knitting, needing something to occupy her hands.

“He wore his lucky socks.”

“There is no such thing as luck.” Aurora was more like her father than Elise had known. “They’re simply hand-knit socks,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended.

“Dad didn’t want you to know.” Her daughter spoke in a voice so low Elise had to strain to hear.

Frowning, she paused in her knitting and raised her head. “Know what?” she asked.

Aurora clasped her hands together and stared down at the carpet. “He’s dying.”

“What?”

“He has a rare form of leukemia. Don’t ask me to repeat the medical name, because I don’t know if I can even pronounce it. Those afternoons he was away? He was going in for blood transfusions. He only has about a year left. Two years possibly, but no one’s placing any bets.” She smiled sadly when she realized what she’d said.

“Dying?” It felt as if Elise’s heart had stopped beating.

“He came to Seattle because he wanted to get to know me and the family while he still could.” Tears shone in her eyes. “He didn’t gamble until that one day, when he entered the poker competition. He swore to me he hadn’t, and I believe him.”

“But why did he do it then?” Elise demanded. “And don’t tell me it was for my sake, because I refuse to believe it.”

Aurora shook her head as if she didn’t know what to say. “That’s what he told me.”

“Dying,” Elise repeated slowly. Everything became very clear to her in those few moments. Her mind scanned the last months. She should’ve understood that something was wrong; in his whole life, Maverick had never been content to sit and do nothing, yet he’d spent hours sitting in the car, waiting for her. She’d accepted that without question, as she had his sudden need to see his daughter.

“A year …”

Aurora nodded. “He loves you, Mom. He’s told me that a dozen times, and I know it’s true.”

Elise swallowed the thickness in her throat. “I love him, too.”

“I know.”

Without invitation Luke wandered into the bedroom, feet dragging. He fell into his mother’s lap, sighing dejectedly.

“What’s the matter?” Elise asked.

“You don’t know?” he exclaimed. “Grandpa lost.”

Elise stretched out her arms to her grandson, and Luke slid away from his mother and walked over to her. Holding the boy close, she shut her eyes and mused that her ex-husband was no luckier in cards than he was in life.