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Blossom Street Bundle. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.

Blossom Street Bundle - Debbie Macomber


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      “What about the baby’s mother?” he asked. “She has some say in this.”

      “I’ve been thinking about that,” Carol said. “She’s going to have to take several weeks off work and we should be willing to compensate her for any lost wages.”

      Doug lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “I suppose we could make that offer.”

      “I could go back to work to help pay for whatever she wants.”

      “That isn’t a good idea.”

      “Why not?” Carol protested. Already he was objecting to her plans and it was crucial that he feel as certain about all of this as she did.

      “You can’t go back to work for just a few months and then quit again. If you do return to the brokerage, it has to be with the understanding that you only intend to work a set amount of time.”

      He was right, but that didn’t thwart her hopes—or her plans. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this adoption work. Just promise you’ll support me.”

      “Honey, you know I will.”

      “This baby is ours. I can feel it in my heart.” Needing to convince him, she lifted his hand and held it.

      Doug closed his eyes and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was afraid—she was, too—but the certainty that this was how things were meant to be overshadowed her fears.

      “You’re afraid we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment, aren’t you?”

      Doug nodded. “I hate to see you put yourself through this. What if it’s another dead end?”

      “I’m the one who should be worrying about that, don’t you think?” Despite Doug’s concern, she was convinced her brother would like the idea.

      “Should I call Rick, or do you want to do it?” Doug asked.

      Joyfully, Carol tossed her arms around her husband’s neck. “I’ll phone him first thing in the morning and explain everything.” She still hadn’t heard from Rick, not since that evening he’d told her about the pregnancy. By now, he would have received from her parents the devastating report of the miscarriage. Carol realized he purposely hadn’t called or written her. He wouldn’t know what to say and it was easier to ignore her pain. Her brother tended to take the route of least resistance, which was something she hadn’t learned about him until recently.

      “Can I go back to sleep now?” Doug asked and without waiting for a response, he slid down and pulled the sheet and comforter up to his ears.

      Carol felt herself slip from her alert, energetic state into sudden tiredness. She got under the covers, too, burying her head in the pillow. Doug was on his side and she cuddled against him spoon-fashion, draping her arm over his waist.

      Tired though she was, her head swam with thoughts of this child and what the adoption would bring to their lives. The old proverb was right: God never closes a door without opening a window. That window was wide open. She’d just had to stand in front of it for a few moments to feel the winds of change. She finally understood what should have been obvious all along.

      36

      CHAPTER

       ALIX TOWNSEND

      Alix dumped her dirty T-shirts into the washing machine, added soap and inserted quarters into the proper slots. She had enough shirts from rock bands and concerts to last her a full two weeks. With the old-lady underwear Jacqueline had insisted on buying her, Alix now had the same number of panties as she did T-shirts.

      To save money, Alix and Laurel combined their dirty clothes and took turns hauling the bags down to the Laundromat. It was Alix’s turn to deal with the laundry and she hated it, which was one reason she went there early Monday morning. She’d feel like a success if one day she was rich enough to afford her own washer and dryer.

      Sitting on the hard plastic chair, she reached for a magazine. The date on the issue of People was Christmas a year ago and Alix set it aside once she realized she’d read it on her previous visit. In fact, she’d read everything the Laundromat had to offer.

      Crossing her arms, she stretched out her legs and closed her eyes. She smiled as she thought about Jacqueline. Her friend meant well, but there was no way in hell Alix was going to try on a knit dress. One look at the price tag and she’d nearly passed out. That dress and sweater combination cost over a thousand bucks. A thousand bucks for a dress? That was crazy!

      Her experience at the hairdresser’s had been even worse. The French woman with the heavy accent refused to listen to anything Alix said. She had her own ideas of what needed to be done and simply dismissed Alix’s instructions. By the time Desiree, or whatever her name was, had finished, Alix was ready to scream. To be fair, her hair did look fairly decent—if she’d wanted to resemble that Brady Bunch guy. Alix had needed a week to get it styled the way she liked it after Desiree had snipped off so much with those fancy scissors.

      Alix didn’t mean to sound unappreciative; Jacqueline had wanted to do something nice for her, and Alix was grateful, especially since her friend was footing the bill. But Jacqueline’s efforts had backfired. She just didn’t understand Alix’s taste, and Alix wasn’t letting the other woman get that close to her again.

      On a brighter note, Carol was back at A Good Yarn this past Friday and—surprisingly—in a great mood. Everyone had been worried about her after the news of her miscarriage. Alix wasn’t sure what, if anything, to say. She wanted Carol to know she was sorry, but at the same time she didn’t want to bring up a painful subject in case Carol wasn’t ready to talk about it. Jacqueline and Lydia obviously felt the same way.

      Then Carol had arrived for class as cheerful as ever, and Alix was stunned. Everyone was. Carol seemed convinced that she and Doug would be able to adopt a baby. Alix was full of questions, but when the others didn’t ask anything, she took the hint and didn’t either. Carol hadn’t provided any details, so they all pretended everything was fine. Alix worried that Carol was in denial or caught up in some kind of wish-fulfillment fantasy. She tried to be encouraging, but frankly she was concerned.

      Carol wasn’t the only one in the group Alix was concerned about. Something was definitely wrong with Lydia. She just wasn’t herself, acting subdued and withdrawn, walking around in a fog. Jacqueline had noticed it, too. At first Alix assumed Lydia was on the outs with the delivery guy she’d been so keen on all summer. That could be it, but she was doubtful. When questioned, Lydia claimed everything was fine, but Alix didn’t need a psychic to see that things were definitely off kilter.

      And Laurel … Laurel was even worse than before. Having a roommate was a mistake, but they were stuck with each other. For the past three months Laurel had been irritable and short-tempered. Thinking she was being helpful, Alix gave her a tabloid with big headlines about a miracle diet. Laurel had hurled it back at Alix, hitting her in the face. Alix had avoided her roommate ever since. It was easier now that Laurel wasn’t working at the video store. She’d quit the week before and taken a job at a day care center as an assistant, which meant she was basically a baby-sitter and a cleaner, wiping up spilled juice and putting away Lego blocks. She hadn’t taken courses or anything. But Laurel didn’t seem to like that job any better.

      The washing machine buzzed, and Alix got up from the chair and dumped the clean clothes into the plastic basket. She was ready to bring the load to the dryer, but when she turned around she nearly bumped into Jordan Turner.

      She hadn’t seen Jordan since their disagreement, and after making a fool of herself she didn’t expect a second chance with him. The only reason she’d let Jacqueline give her a fashion makeover was in the hopes that Jordan would notice the difference, that it might give him an excuse to talk to her. She should’ve known what to expect. Everything she’d ever done to improve her life had ended in this same predictable way.

      “Hi-i,” she stammered.

      “I


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