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  Susannah spoke, and Colette gratefully turned her thoughts away from Christian Dempsey.

  “I’m not sure what I expected of Mr. Olson,” Susannah said as she slipped the big apron around her neck and deftly tied it at her waist. “But then I don’t normally hang around funeral parlors,” she added. “He was so friendly. But not somber, you know? Just genuine and low-key. Later I saw him talking to a family who’d lost a loved one and he had such a gentle, reassuring manner.” She gave a light shrug. “I was impressed with him—and I hope he felt the same way about me.”

  Colette knew that if Susannah received the funeral-home contract it would be a huge boost for the shop. Her only experience with funerals had been Derek’s, which was a blur in her mind. His parents had flown in from Chicago and handled almost everything, making all the decisions about their son’s interment. In her benumbed state, she’d been glad to let them do it. While sitting in the waiting room, Colette remembered glancing through a brochure about prepaid plans. She would never have guessed it might one day be part of her own job.

  “I assured Mr. Olson that while I’m new to this business, I have every intention of being around for a long time. Joe helped me prepare what to say. He’s been so wonderful.”

  Colette admired Susannah’s husband, Joe, and the way he supported and encouraged his wife and her new venture. She envied them their loving partnership. She wondered if her own marriage would have deepened into that mature love. She liked to think it would have. But her husband was dead—and Colette was pregnant with another man’s child.

  The phone rang just then and Colette answered it. As she started entering the details of an order, the front door opened and someone came into the shop. Susannah stepped out front to deal with the customer.

  Colette finished writing up the order—a bouquet to congratulate new parents on their baby. The flowers would be delivered to a local hospital that afternoon. Because the business was small, Susannah had hired a delivery service. The driver stopped by once a day to pick up the orders. Flower arrangements like this one, for joyous occasions, brought Susannah and Colette the most pleasure. Funeral wreaths and arrangements were a staple of the business, but Colette knew from her own experience that no quantity of flowers, regardless of how exotic or expensive, would ease the ache of having lost a family member. The point was to honor the person who’d died and to express condolences to the living.

  Susannah returned to the back room. “There’s a man out front who wants to speak to you.”

  “A man?” It could only be one person.

  Susannah stared at the business card in her hand. “Christian Dempsey. Isn’t he the man who left a phone message last week?”

  Colette nodded jerkily. She hadn’t called Christian back, which was probably stupid on her part. It was absurd to think he wouldn’t be able to find her. Knowing him as well as she did, she should have realized her lack of response would only heighten his desire to confront her.

  Squaring her shoulders, Colette moved slowly into the front of the shop and stood behind the counter. She would listen to whatever he had to say and pray that would be the end of it. However, nothing could have prepared her for the impact of seeing him again.

  It wasn’t that his appearance had changed. Christian looked just the same as he had last month. As soon as she entered the room, his eyes flew to hers.

  “Mr. Dempsey,” she said formally, which seemed a little ridiculous when she’d lain naked in his arms. But politeness offered her an emotional buffer she badly needed.

  He frowned. “In light of…uh, recent events, calling me by my first name might be more appropriate.”

  She studied him, not sure if he was making fun of her. What would be appropriate, Colette felt like saying, was to avoid any mention of their encounter at the hotel. “All right. Christian.”

  “Did you get my message?”

  “Yes. I did.” She didn’t offer any explanation as to why she hadn’t returned his call.

  His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Anyone else might not have noticed. Colette did. After five years of working with him, she was all too aware of the nuances that relayed his mood and his thoughts. He wasn’t pleased with her, and everything about him, his look, his stance, the set of his shoulders, told her so. She could only surmise that he’d discovered she was the one who’d written the letter. Coward that she was, Colette had no intention of bringing it up.

  His gaze continued to hold hers. “I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. Privately.”

  He knew. “That’s…not possible. I’m working.”

  “Then I’ll wait.”

  Nothing would intimidate walk-in customers faster than an irritated Christian Dempsey.

  Colette hesitated and then reluctantly gave in. It wouldn’t do any good to put this off, she decided; he’d only come back. “I’ll see if my employer can spare me.”

  Christian responded with a curt nod and she hurried to ask Susannah if she could leave early.

  “Who is that guy?” Susannah whispered the minute Colette reappeared.

  “My former boss. Would it be okay if I left now?”

  “With him?” Susannah frowned, clearly concerned.

  “It isn’t like we have a lot to say to each other.” In Colette’s opinion, this conversation should take about five seconds. Her biggest worry was how she’d feel afterward. The attraction was still there, despite everything she knew about him.

  “Take all the time you need,” Susannah told her. “Just promise me that speaking to this man is something you want to do.”

  It was, and it definitely wasn’t. “I need to,” she said, letting that explanation suffice.

  Christian was waiting for her out front. Ever the gentleman, he held the door for her as they left the flower shop. She half expected some comment on the type of employment she’d taken after leaving Dempsey Imports. He said nothing.

  “There’s a café across the street,” he said, gesturing toward the French Café with its striped awning. One of the windows displayed a multitude of baked delicacies and through the other they could see small tables and chairs.

  “Why don’t we go for a short walk instead?” She didn’t want anyone from the café to listen in on their conversation.

  Christian was agreeable. They spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries as they strolled down Blossom Street. Christian walked with his hands behind his back, careful to keep pace with her shorter strides. What struck Colette was the way they both struggled to maintain a facade of unfamiliarity. They acted like strangers when they so obviously weren’t.

  “How are you?” Christian asked. He turned to look at her as if he possessed the uncanny ability to see straight through her, which in fact he did.

  “I’m very well, thank you.” She hoped her voice didn’t reveal how on edge she really felt.

  “I mean, how are you…physically?” he asked again.

  “Physically?” she repeated.

  “Do I need to spell it out for you?” His words were impatient. “If I remember correctly, neither of us took the time to employ any measures to prevent pregnancy.”

  “Oh.” Embarrassment lit up her cheeks brighter than the red signal light at the intersection. “I’m fine. There’s…nothing to worry about.”

  He didn’t seem to believe her.

  “If that’s all,” she said, ready to part company, “I should be getting back.” Her mind was crowded with questions and accusations. She’d never taken Christian for a fool and yet she had proof that he was trafficking in Chinese aliens. Seeing him confused her. She didn’t want to think about him or give him reasons to suspect she carried his child. The sooner they said their good-byes, the better.

  “No, there’s more,” he countered sharply. He hesitated, as though he wasn’t sure how to formulate the next question. After a brief pause, he blurted out, “I’d like you to return to Dempsey Imports.”

  His request shocked her, and Colette automatically shook her head. “I can�
��t.”

  When the light changed, they crossed the street and continued walking, no real destination in mind.

  Christian waited until they were on the other side. “Is it because of what happened?”

  “Christian,” she murmured and instantly knew he hadn’t found out about the letter. “It wouldn’t work. It’s unfortunate and I feel bad, but that night will always stand between us.”

  “And day.”

  He seemed to be trying to add to her embarrassment.

  “Fine, and that day,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter. Working together is no longer an option.”

  “All right,” he said regretfully. “I realize I made a mistake after the holidays. The relationship changed and I had no idea how to deal with it.”

  That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, she thought sarcastically.

  “I pretended nothing was different between us,” he went on. “But it was…is. You’ve made your point. We need to discuss this like two mature adults and reach an understanding.”

  “I don’t want to discuss it. And there’s nothing to understand. We made a regrettable mistake. Blame it on too much champagne, too much Christmas spirit.”

  He raised his brows.

  Colette stared down at the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Everything’s changed, Christian. I can’t go back to being your assistant.”

  “Why can’t we both consider what happened at the Christmas party a slip in judgment and let it go at that? You’re a valuable employee. The company needs you.”

  “The company?” she asked.

  He exhaled slowly. “I need you,” he murmured. “I want you to come back.”

  Colette supposed she should be flattered, since Christian Dempsey rarely admitted to needing anyone or anything. “It isn’t possible,” she said and she meant it. “We can’t undo what’s already been done. Don’t you see that?” He couldn’t honestly expect her to resume managing his schedule, his travel arrangements and his dates. As soon as he learned she’d contacted the authorities, he’d fire her anyway.

  He didn’t answer.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Why? Were you hiding?”

  “No…”

  “It wasn’t that difficult. I had Accounting contact your bank and get the new address—to mail your severance documents.”

  She shrugged, feeling a bit foolish. But she couldn’t resist another question. “Did you hire a new assistant yet?” She could have asked any of the friends she’d made through the years. But the company must be rife with gossip and rumors as to why she’d quit so abruptly, and for that reason, Colette hadn’t called anyone at Dempsey Imports. Getting in touch with them to ask for information like that was a last resort.

  “Lloyd York,” Christian said.

  “Lloyd,” she repeated. She tried unsuccessfully to remember a face to go with the name. “I don’t know him.” As much as possible, Christian made it a practice to promote and hire within the company.

  “He’s a temp.”

  Colette felt her eyes widen. Christian disliked using personnel from a temporary agency and until now he’d avoided it. The fact that he’d looked outside the company only underlined his guilt. What she didn’t understand was his reason for wanting her back. Surely he knew she’d uncover his activities sooner or later.

  “I hoped you’d come to your senses and return voluntarily. When I didn’t hear from you, I had no choice but to contact you myself.”

  “Christian, I’m sorry, sorrier than you know. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “You’re sure you won’t reconsider?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes. Despite everything, she missed him, missed the demands and challenges of her position. Not a day passed that she didn’t think of him. She wanted to tell him about the baby but knew she couldn’t until everything had played out. Needless to say, she couldn’t predict how or when that would take place.

  “You want to come back, Colette. I can feel it. Tell me what’s stopping you and I’ll make it right. You want a raise, fine. I’ll double whatever your salary was before. We know each other well and—”

  Angry now, she whirled on him. “I beg to differ. After five years of working side by side, you know next to nothing about me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” she flared.

  “On the contrary, I know you very well, Colette Blake.” The innuendo was so sharp, it felt like a carefully aimed needle pricking her vulnerable skin—and her pride.

  “See what I mean?” she said as calmly as her hammering pulse would allow. “You just made my case. What happened…happened, and there’s no going back. I suggest you hire a permanent replacement, Mr. Dempsey, because I can assure you I have no intention of working for you again…ever.”

  Conscious of the need to retain her dignity, Colette marched off, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER 6

  “The simple meditative act of knitting may not bring about world peace, but it certainly has made my world more peaceful.”

  —Ann Budd, Book Editor, Interweave Press. Author of numerous knitting books, including Lace Style, coauthored with Pam Allen (Spring 2007) and Getting Started Knitting Socks, Fall 2007, Interweave Press

  Lydia Goetz

  If today wasn’t the first knitting class for the prayer shawl, I would’ve closed the shop in order to be with Margaret and Julia. My niece was in bad shape. The hospital had kept her for two days after setting the pin in her arm, which was badly broken. Her face was swollen and bruised. I could barely look at her and not cry. It was beyond my imagination that anyone would do something like this to my beautiful Julia. More damaging than the physical injuries was what this carjacking had done to her emotionally.

  To her and to my sister! I’d never seen Margaret angrier. At the hospital she paced the waiting room snarling like a wounded beast, snapping at the staff, demanding answers and generally making a nuisance of herself. I couldn’t even talk to her. I don’t know what would’ve happened if not for Matt. My brother-in-law handled the situation so tactfully. Again and again, he reminded Margaret that Julia was alive. The loss of the car was of no consequence as long as their daughter had survived the attack. Insurance would replace the vehicle but nothing could ever replace their child.

  The door opened on this bleak Wednesday afternoon, and Alix walked into the shop. I was pleased that she’d decided to sign up for another class, although she didn’t really need one, since she’s turned into an accomplished knitter. Because Colette and Susannah were beginners, I’d offered to teach two patterns, one a simple prayer shawl, and the other, for Alix, a more elaborate, complicated lace pattern. She required a challenge, otherwise she’d quickly grow bored. She also needed distraction, and I figured this lace pattern would do the trick.

  I was so grateful to see her I almost broke into tears. I’d been so distraught by the assault on Julia that my emotions were completely off-kilter.

  “Did you hear?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice from shaking.

  Alix nodded. “How’s Julia doing?”

  “She came home after a couple of days in the hospital but she refuses to see anyone other than family.” With her face swollen and discolored, Julia was afraid of what her friends would say. She’d immediately gone into her bedroom and hadn’t come out. I understood better than anyone might have guessed. After my first brain surgery, my head swathed in bandages, I’d been terribly self-conscious. Little did I realize this was just the beginning of my ordeal. I wouldn’t allow my friends to see me, either, and later, when I was lonely and depressed, there were only a few who’d hung on. In retrospect, I knew I was responsible for sending them away; I hoped Julia didn’t repeat my mistake.

  All I could do was pray for my niece and give her my love and support. Her arm would mend and the bruises fade, but I doubted she’d ever be the same lighthearted girl she’d been a week ago.

 
The car thief had stolen more than their vehicle that day. He’d also taken Julia’s innocent trust that the world was decent and safe. He’d blindsided my sister and Matt, too. Whoever he was, this man had a great deal to answer for.

  “Did the boys in blue find the guy who did it?” Alix asked as she sauntered up to the table in the back room of the shop. That was where I held my classes. She set down her backpack and took out the yarn and needles she’d purchased earlier in the week.

  “No word yet.” Frankly, I didn’t have much hope. The officer who’d talked to Margaret explained that the car was probably on a container ship in the Port of Seattle within a day of the attack. Apparently the new car my sister had chosen was one of the most desirable vehicles on the black market. The whole family had been so proud of their first brand-new car, and this only added to the burden of Margaret’s guilt.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Alix muttered.

  I knew Alix distrusted the police. I should’ve said something positive to counter her cynicism, but I didn’t feel like arguing. Besides, it wasn’t getting the car back that was important to my sister. It was justice she wanted. Justice she demanded. Margaret wasn’t one to easily forgive and forget, and she was fiercely protective of her family, especially her daughters Julia and eleven-year-old Hailey.