The Shop on Blossom Street (7 page)

JACQUELINE DONOVAN

I
n an attempt to hide her nervousness, Jacqueline poured herself a second glass of chardonnay. After the first sip she stepped into the kitchen and brought out the hors d’oeuvre platter for their guests. Martha had put together crackers artfully swirled with herb-mixed cream cheese and decorated with tiny shrimp. Paul had phoned earlier in the week to ask if he and Tammie Lee could stop by the house on Wednesday evening.

They’d spent the Mother’s Day weekend in Louisiana with Tammie Lee’s mother, who apparently wasn’t feeling well. Jacqueline had made a conscious decision not to take offense.

This was the first time Paul had ever asked permission to visit the family home, and Jacqueline’s nerves had been badly frayed ever since his phone call.

“Relax,” Reese said, following her into the kitchen.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Jacqueline
murmured. She glanced at the clock on the microwave and realized it was a full ten minutes before her son and daughter-in-law were due to arrive. She cringed at the prospect of making small talk with Tammie Lee, and feared that Paul was about to announce he’d accepted a transfer to the New Orleans branch so Tammie Lee could be close to her family.

“Setting up an appointment to come over here isn’t like Paul.”

“He was just being thoughtful.” Reese walked around the counter and sat on a stool. “Isn’t knitting supposed to soothe your nerves?”

“That’s another thing,” Jacqueline snapped. “I’m dropping out of that ridiculous class.”

His head flew back at the vehemence of her declaration. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I have my reasons.” She didn’t like the look on Reese’s face—as if he was disappointed in her. But he wasn’t the one confronting that ill-mannered punk rocker or whatever those people called themselves these days. Alix, spelled A-L-I-X, resembled a gang member; the girl frightened her. “Why should you care what I do?” Jacqueline leaned against the counter across from her husband.

“You seemed excited about it last week,” he said blandly. It was obviously of no consequence to him. “I thought it was a conciliatory gesture on your part. I assumed you signed up for the classes to show Paul you’re planning to be a good grandmother.”

“I am determined to be a
wonderful
grandmother. For heaven’s sake, what chance does a child of Tammie Lee’s have? She’ll grow up learning how to pickle pigs’ feet.” She shivered at the very idea.

“Now, Jacqueline…”

“Actually, I blame you for this.”

“Me?” Reese straightened and for a moment he seemed about to laugh outright. “You blame me for
what?
”

“For the fact that I’m in this…this awful knitting class.”

He frowned. “You’d better tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s a young woman in the class. I can’t imagine why she’d ever want to learn to knit, but it’s not important. She’s vile, Reese. That’s the only word I can think of to describe her. Her hair is the most ludicrous shade of purple and she took an instant dislike to me when she learned that you’re responsible for what’s happening in the Blossom Street neighborhood.”

Reese reached for his wine. “Most people there welcome the renovation.”

“Alix lives in the apartment building at the end of the street.” As far as Jacqueline could see, it was a rat-infested dump. If it was slated for demolition, all the better. Alix and her kind would need to look elsewhere for low-rent housing. Girls like that weren’t wanted in an upscale neighborhood, which Blossom Street would soon become.

“Ah,” Reese murmured and sipped his wine. “Now I understand.”

“What’s planned for the building?” Jacqueline asked.

“That hasn’t been decided.” Reese gently swirled his wine against the sides of the goblet. “The city is talking to the owner. My idea was to completely remodel the place into condos, but it seems some advocates for low-income housing now have the mayor’s ear.”

“That’s unfortunate. Those low-rent people will ruin the neighborhood. You might as well kiss all your hard work goodbye.” She hated to sound like a pessimist, but if Alix was any indication of the quality of person living in that building, then the entire street was at risk.

“Maybe you should give the knitting class another try,” Reese suggested, ignoring her outburst.

The truth of it was that Jacqueline
wanted
to continue. She hadn’t found the class “awful” at all; that was an exaggeration for Reese’s benefit. Other than the confrontation with Alix, she’d enjoyed the lesson. At one point, Lydia had told them to walk around the shop and choose three balls of yarn in their favorite colors. At the time it’d seemed like a useless exercise. Jacqueline had chosen a silver gloss, a deep purple and a vibrant red. Lydia’s next instruction had been to choose wool in the color she disliked most. Jacqueline had gone immediately to a skein of bright yellow, which was the color that appealed to her least. Lydia had talked about contrasting colors and showed how they often complement each other. In fact, the yellow had looked completely different against the purple, and just as Lydia had said, the contrast was surprisingly effective.

She’d discovered that so much of knitting was about choosing the textures and colors, which was something she hadn’t considered before. Jacqueline had walked out of the class with the realization that she’d learn far more than the basic knitting stitches. That, however, did little to quell her uneasiness concerning Alix.

“I might decide to attend the second beginners’ session later in the summer,” Jacqueline muttered, still unsure of what to do. She’d paid for the entire six-week course and detested the thought of some hoodlum driving her away with intimidation and ill-manners.

The doorbell rang and Jacqueline felt the tension crawl up her spine. While Reese answered the door, she forced a smile and moved into the formal living room, hands clasped in front of her. She waited for Reese to greet Paul and Tammie Lee in the foyer.

“How wonderful to see you both,” Jacqueline purred, extending her arms to Tammie Lee and her son as they en
tered the room. She briefly hugged her daughter-in-law and grazed Paul’s cheek with her lips. Now that she knew Tammie Lee was pregnant, she wondered how she hadn’t guessed earlier. Her daughter-in-law was definitely showing—enough to be wearing a maternity top.

Paul and Tammie Lee sat on the sofa, so close their shoulders touched. They held hands, as if to proclaim that nothing would tear them apart.

While Reese poured a glass of wine for Paul, Jacqueline carried in the platter of hors d’oeuvres. Tammie Lee smiled up at Jacqueline.

“I just love shrimp and ever since I’ve been pregnant I’ve had the worst craving for them,” she said in a soft twang. “Just ask Paul. I think he must be thoroughly sick of shrimp, but he never complains.” She gazed lovingly toward her husband as she accepted a small napkin and two crackers.

Paul cast his wife a look of love and pride, and it was all Jacqueline could do to maintain her composure. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand what her son saw in this girl.

“What can I get you to drink?” Reese asked Tammie Lee when he brought Paul his wineglass.

“It’s so nice of you to ask, but I’m just fine, thank you.”

If there was anything for which to be grateful, Jacqueline mused, it was the fact that Tammie Lee seemed to be taking care of herself during the pregnancy. At least she had that much common sense.

Reese and Jacqueline sat across from them in leather chairs, with a polished mahogany end table between them. They so rarely used the formal living room that five years after she’d purchased the chairs they still smelled of new leather.

“I think we should tell them,” Tammie Lee whispered to Paul.

Paul nodded and squeezed her hand. “Tammie Lee had an ultrasound this afternoon and it seems we’re having a baby girl.” He smiled. “Sometimes they can’t be sure, but our technician was quite positive it’s a girl.”

“A girl,” Reese repeated and the happiness in his voice was unmistakable. He stood and clapped Paul on the back. “Did you hear that, Jacquie? We’re finally getting our baby girl!”

Jacqueline felt her hands go numb. “A granddaughter,” she repeated as the odd tingling sensation spread up her arms. Oh, how she’d once longed for a daughter.

“We haven’t chosen any names yet,” Tammie Lee rushed to add in that soft drawl of hers. It always made her sound as if she was talking underwater. “We only decided this afternoon that we wanted to know the sex of the baby. You’re the first people we’ve told.”

“Your mother and I had always hoped for a little girl,” Reese said, echoing Jacqueline’s thoughts.

“That’s…wonderful,” Jacqueline finally managed.

“We decided we should let you know, Mom,” Paul said, directing his attention to her for the first time, “so you’d know what color yarn to get for the baby blanket.”

“Mrs. Donovan, I declare, when Paul told me you were knitting a blanket for the baby, it just warmed my heart. Y’all have been so kind to me.” She planted both hands over her stomach and sighed.

That twang of Tammie Lee’s put Jacqueline’s teeth on edge. Some might find it pleasing, but to Jacqueline it sounded uneducated. Unrefined.

“There’s more news,” Paul said, moving toward the edge of the sofa cushion.

“More?” Reese said. “Don’t tell me you’re having twins.”

“Nothing like that.” Paul laughed shortly.

Tammie Lee grinned at her husband. “Twins! I’m so nervous about one baby, I can’t even imagine what would happen if we had two.”

Paul turned to share such a gentle look with his wife that Jacqueline glanced away. Any hope she had of her son regretting his marriage died a quick death.

“So what’s your other news?” Reese asked.

Paul’s face brightened. “I got word last week that Tammie Lee and I have been accepted into the Seattle Country Club.” The club, to which Jacqueline and Reese belonged, was the most prestigious in the area. New memberships were limited to only a few each year. It went without saying that only the right kind of people were accepted. One of Jacqueline’s first thoughts when she was introduced to Tammie Lee was that Paul had ruined his chances of ever joining the country club.

“I’m so pleased,” Jacqueline said, doing her best to smile. Apparently Tammie Lee’s lengthy and inappropriate discussions of southern cuisine hadn’t been as much of a detriment as she’d assumed.

“I’ve been asked to work on the cookbook committee,” Tammie Lee gushed as if this was the greatest compliment of her life. “I can’t tell you the number of times someone’s asked me to share my mama’s, Aunt Thelma’s and Aunt Frieda’s favorite recipes.”

“Recipes for what?” Jacqueline blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

“Mainly folks want to know about hush puppies. Four or five ladies have already asked me about those.”

“Hush puppies?”

“It’s like cornbread, Mother,” Paul supplied.

“I know what they are,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Paul
loves
my hush puppies,” Tammie Lee twanged in
her eagerness to continue. “My mama told me they got their name from hunters who threw leftover ends of the cornbread to their dogs to keep ’em quiet at night.”

“
This
is the recipe you’re submitting to the Seattle Country Club Cookbook?” Jacqueline was convinced she’d never be able to show her face in public again.

“Oh, and I asked Mama for Grandma’s recipe for Brunswick stew, which is my daddy’s all-time favorite. My grandma was raised in Georgia before she married my grandpa and moved to Tennessee. I was almost eighteen before we moved to Louisiana, so I really consider myself a bluegrass girl.”

“Brunswick stew,” Jacqueline said. That at least sounded presentable.

“It’s a southern version of chili. Mama always served it when we had a barbecue. Mama has Grandma’s original recipe and I’ll need to change it a bit. Everyone uses pork or chicken nowadays, instead of possum or squirrel.”

One more word from this woman and Jacqueline was afraid she’d keel over in a dead faint.

“I hope you give them your recipe for deep-fried okra,” Paul said as if he’d never tasted anything so good in his life. “You wouldn’t believe what Tammie Lee does with okra. I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Once and only once had Jacqueline sampled the slimy green vegetable. It’d been in some kind of soup dish. Never having seen it before, she’d lifted it from the bowl and been repulsed by the thick slime that had dripped from her spoon. She’d nearly gagged just looking at it and now her son was telling her he enjoyed this disgusting vegetable.

“I have a recipe for pecan pie that’s a family favorite and I’d be happy to share that, too.”

“Actually, I think it’s because of Tammie Lee’s cooking that we got accepted by the country club.”

Jacqueline had to bite her lip to keep from reminding Paul that she’d been volunteering there for years. Her charity projects had been some of the club’s most successful fund-raising events. Reese’s name carried plenty of weight, too, but apparently their son hadn’t taken his parents’ longstanding contribution into account. Oh, no, he assumed it was Tammie Lee’s method of cooking road kill—squirrel, for heaven’s sake!—that had opened the doors.

“You do seem to be full of good news,” Reese said, grinning in a way that conveyed his delight.

“Yes,” Jacqueline agreed, making an effort to look equally delighted. She was trying, trying hard, but it was difficult.

“I declare I don’t know any couple happier than Paul and me,” Tammie Lee drawled. “I can’t believe any man has as much love for a woman as Paul does for me, especially since we found out about the baby.”

“We’re thrilled to have you as part of our family,” Reese said.

“I can feel your love,” Tammie Lee said, looking at Reese. “And I can’t thank you enough for welcoming me the way you have.”

Paul’s eyes connected with Jacqueline’s. He knew her feelings. She might be able to fool Tammie Lee, but her son knew her all too well. Until now, Paul had protected his young wife from her disapproval. At one time, mother and son had shared a special closeness, but since the advent of Tammie Lee, that had virtually disappeared.