After Casey had priced the new yarn and arranged it in the correct cubicles, she sat with Whiskers on her lap and stroked the cat for an hour straight. I was astonished that she could sit still for that long. Whiskers spent hours every day asleep in the front window, so this much attention was unusual. He purred with contentment; Casey’s lap had obviously become one of his favorite places.
I grabbed lunch when I could between customers, bringing back a take-out container of salad for Casey.
“I’m going for a walk,” Casey announced around two and headed out the door. She’d timed her declaration perfectly, waiting until I was busy f iguring out yardage for a sweater project for Mary Kilborn, an experienced knitter. Because I was poring over a computer program that listed the brand name and skein yardage for every company, I barely had a chance to react to her statement.
“Brad will be here at—” I didn’t get to f inish as Casey was already gone and well out of earshot.
“Never mind,” I said. Brad wouldn’t appear for another two hours and Casey would surely be back by then. As was so often the case with her, I was wrong. Brad showed up before Casey did.
“Where do you think she might be?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
“I…I don’t know. I never expected her to be gone this long.”
I started to rub my palms together, a nervous habit I’d developed over the summer—or more accurately, since Casey’s arrival. I could tell that Brad’s day hadn’t gone well, because it wasn’t like him to be short-tempered. “Well, where did she say she was going?” he asked impatiently.
“That’s just it. She didn’t.”
Brad frowned, even harder this time. “Do you suppose she’s run away again?”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “No, why would she?”
“Why does she do anything?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air. “That kid’s impossible to understand.” He grinned, then added, “You’d think she was a teenager or something.”
The “or something” was right. Casey wouldn’t actually be a teenager until the following year, but she showed all the signs of being one now—especially the moodiness.
“She’ll be back,” Margaret assured us. She f inished counting out change for a customer who’d come in to purchase an extra skein when she’d run out of yarn on a project.
“How can you be so sure?” Brad asked when the woman had gone.
“Two things.” Margaret walked around the counter. “First, Casey didn’t collect her pay for this morning and secondly—”
Margaret pointed at the crocheting Casey had left on the lesson table “—she didn’t take her work with her.”
I nodded; my sister was right. “You might as well relax until she turns up,” I advised my husband.
Brad muttered a comment under his breath, then accepted the inevitability of waiting. Sighing heavily, he sat down at the table. Five minutes later, Casey strolled in as though she’d hardly been away at all.
Instantly Brad was on his feet. “Where were you?” he demanded.
“Out,” Casey blurted, glaring at him def iantly. In an effort to avoid an argument, I rested my hand on Brad’s. “Everything’s f ine now. She’s back and she’s safe.”
Casey pretended not to hear me as she walked over to the table and grabbed her crocheting, stuff ing it inside the quilted bag I’d lent her. Then she straightened. “Are you ready?” she asked as if Brad had kept her waiting.
Brad glanced at me, eyebrows raised. I shook my head as the two of them left, giving each other the silent treatment. Margaret watched them walk away and turned to me. “I bet you’ll be glad when she’s out of the house.”
I didn’t know exactly what I’d feel. What surprised me, though, was the sense of loss that came over me at that statement.
Despite the diff iculties we’d had with Casey, I’d become genuinely fond of the girl. I would miss her, and so would Brad and Cody.
In fact, Casey’s stay with us had been good for our son. He’d learned the concept of sharing. Cody was the sole focus of our love and attention. Of course we hoped to add another child to our family, but as it was now, our lives revolved around his. He’d been a friend to Casey, and in the process had learned communication skills. Despite the moodiness she sometimes displayed, she seemed to like him.
“I’m going to miss her.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud until my sister made a huff ing sound. “What does that mean?”
I asked, challenging Margaret to state her opinion. She sent me that familiar disapproving look and simply shook her head.
That evening Alix was the f irst to arrive for class. As she walked into the store, I could smell cigarette smoke on her. As if she could guess what I was thinking, she announced to both Margaret and me, “Okay, I’m smoking again. I went four days without a cigarette but I’m back to three a day, so don’t give me any grief.”
Obviously Alix and Casey were both in unsociable moods that day. “Three is better than ten or twenty or whatever you started out with.” I wanted her to be aware that I wouldn’t judge her.
“There is medical help, you know,” Margaret said. “And if you weren’t so stubborn you’d get it.”
“No.” Alix brief ly shut her eyes. “I can do this. If I’m a little short-tempered it’s because I just smoked my last cigarette for the day and I’m already craving another.”
It was more than needing a cigarette. Alix was so rarely that I knew something else was troubling her. And my guess was that it had to do with Jordan. He wasn’t with her, although he usually walked her to class and then either went over to the church or met with a men’s group while Alix knitted.
“Jordan isn’t with you tonight?” I ventured.
“No,” she snapped.
I held up both hands as if to say sorry I asked—and I was. Margaret, however, had never steered clear of a fight. “What is it with everyone today?” she said, arms akimbo. “First Casey and now you.”
Alix’s shoulders relaxed. “I didn’t mean to be cranky. Jordan and I had a small argument.”
“I’m sorry.” I could sympathize. Whenever Brad and I were irritated with each other, I felt dreadful. I’m sure I wasn’t much fun at times like that, either.
“It happens,” Margaret said. “Get over it.”
To my astonishment, Alix grinned. “Yeah, I guess I should. It’s my own fault. We were supposed to meet at the café at f ive and I was late. He didn’t feel he should hold on to a table, so he left.”
“And when you did arrive, there wasn’t one available,”
Margaret f inished for her.
“Exactly.” She exhaled slowly. “I didn’t want to upset him and I’m usually on time, but there were extenuating circumstances.”
I’d never known Alix to be intentionally late. In fact, she was generally the f irst to show up, as she had tonight. She needed structure, and since I knew what her life had been like as a child, I understood why.
“Casey wanted to talk. It wasn’t like I could put her off, and then I had to rush to f inish up the menu plans for my boss. Winter’s going on vacation and asked me to take over for her.”
“Casey?” Alix had spent time with Casey? That afternoon?
Suddenly it all made sense. I should’ve realized Casey would seek out Alix, but until that moment it hadn’t occurred to me. Alix nodded and looked from Margaret to me. “You mean you didn’t know she was with me?”
“No,” Margaret said f latly. “We didn’t have a clue where she was, and she was gone for hours.”
“I’m glad she could talk to you,” I said, although it was diff icult not to feel a twinge of jealousy. I so badly wanted Casey to feel safe enough, comfortable enough, to turn to me. Instead she’d gone to Alix. Her reasons were completely logical—
and, of course, I’d done the same thing. I’d gone to Alix, too, asking questions about her experience as a ward of the state so I could understand Casey’s.
Alix seemed a bit confused. “She said you were the one who sent her to me.”
I’d mentioned it, only that had been weeks ago. Naturally I was curious as to what Casey had said, especially since they’d talked for such a long time, but I didn’t ask. I hoped Alix would volunteer the information; when she didn’t, I left it at that.
“Is everything settled between you and Jordan?” I asked instead.
“Not really,” Alix said, looking dejected. “He was pretty upset with me. He said I should’ve called his cell, and he was right. Hopefully we’ll grab some dinner after class.” Then a smile twitched at the edges of her mouth, and the tension eased from her face. “I’ll f ind a way to make it up to him later.”
Margaret hooted with laughter. “I just bet you will,” she said, winking at Alix.
Chapter 28
Phoebe Rylander
Phoebe wasn’t a baseball fan. However, when Hutch invited her to attend Stitch and Pitch night at the Mariners’ game, she was eager to accept. Everyone in the class had gotten tickets and it would be an enjoyable Thursday evening, quite different from her usual activities.
Hutch picked her up at work and had dressed in a Mariners’
jersey, complete with baseball cap. She had to admit he looked athletic and rather charming in a boyish manner. She knew he’d started working out at a gym three mornings a week and it showed. In fact, she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Judging by the way he kept stealing glances at her, the feeling was mutual. Ever since Monday night when Clark had tried to deceive her, Phoebe had a renewed appreciation of Hutch. He was honest and forthright, whereas anything Clark said simply couldn’t be trusted. With him, the truth was all too f lexible. The crowds streamed into the stadium. As she and Hutch reached their seats, he left her to stand in a long line to purchase the ever-popular hot dogs.
Phoebe watched the pitcher warm up, and the excitement in the crowd was contagious. She saw Lydia, Brad, Casey and Cody f iling into the row in front of her and Hutch, half a dozen seats to the right. Both kids had catcher’s mitts, obviously hoping for foul balls. Lydia had her knitting; Phoebe had brought hers, too.
“Hello,” she called out.
Grinning, Lydia turned around. “Hi! I don’t suppose you’ve seen Margaret, have you?”
Phoebe nodded. “She was in line at the ladies’ room.”
“Oh, good. She made it.”
“Elise Beaumont was there, too.”
“I’m glad Margaret managed to talk her into coming,” Lydia said.
“There’s Anne Marie.” Phoebe impulsively stood up to wave. Ellen was with her, as well as another couple she didn’t recognize. Anne Marie waved back from several rows below. Sitting down again, Phoebe leaned forward to ask Lydia,
“Who’s that couple with Anne Marie and Ellen?”
