1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [93]
“It is, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Of course, I’ll be helping with the dinner.”
“Of course,” Olivia echoed. “I wouldn’t dream of making Thanksgiving dinner without you.”
They finished their lunch and headed back to Charlotte and Ben’s.
“Did you two have a good time?” Ben asked when they went inside. A blast of wind nearly slammed the door behind them. The weather remained dark, wet and dreary. Not that Harry, her mother’s cat, seemed to notice. He sat contentedly in his usual position on the back of Ben’s chair, his long furry tail draped over the cushion.
“We had the loveliest time,” Charlotte cooed.
Olivia’s cell phone chirped, and as she took it out of her purse, she saw that the call was from her brother. “Hello,” she said, looking at her watch. He was supposed to “drop by” in about half an hour.
“Hi. Listen, something’s come up and I won’t be able to make it.”
“At all?” So her brother was leaving this in her hands. Her warm feelings for him and the help he’d given her recently dipped by several degrees.
“I can probably stop by but not at the time we agreed.”
“When can you?” she asked, struggling to hide her irritation.
“Ah, I’m not sure. I have to see someone and—”
Someone? Olivia was not amused. “Male or female?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might.”
“Fine. Male. The guy’s an artist I’ve been wooing. A painter from Bellevue. I want him to bring his work to my gallery. Miranda’s the one who got him to talk to me.”
“Is she with you?”
“Miranda? Not right this minute, but she will be. Actually, we decided to double-team him, convince him to sell his art on this side of Puget Sound. Are you going to get all huffy about it?”
Olivia sighed. “No.” In fact, she had to acknowledge that Will’s excuse was legitimate and she hoped his overtures to this artist paid off.
“Can you handle things without me or would you rather put it off?”
“No. The sooner we settle this, the better.”
“I think so, too. Good luck. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Thanks.” She snapped her phone shut and put it back in her purse.
“Who was that, dear?” Charlotte asked.
“Will.”
“Oh. I’m so happy about the way the two of you have reconnected since he’s moved back to town. It does my heart good to see you getting along so well.”
That was true. Will and Olivia had reconnected. They were closer now than at any other time in their lives. It was a gift she hadn’t expected, and she was grateful for it.
“I was just telling Ben about our bazaar shopping,” Charlotte continued. “We had such a good day, didn’t we?”
“We did,” she said.
“And, Ben, the very best place wasn’t the big craft bazaar that they hold at the high school. Remember, I mentioned it earlier?”
“That’s the one you were looking forward to.”
“It was—until we got to Stanford Suites. Oh, my, you wouldn’t believe what I found there.”
“Show me.”
“I can’t, because almost everything I bought is for you for Christmas.”
“At that assisted-living complex?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. Bess lives there, you know, and she told me how much she loves it. Her great-grandson was the greeter. Oh, and they had the most beautiful decorated sugar cookies I’ve ever seen.”
“Did you buy any?”
“Sure did. The ladies’ group baked them. They have Bible study on Tuesday mornings and a bridge club and a knitting circle and art lessons… .”
“At the assisted-living complex?” Ben repeated with a frown. “I had no idea they offered all that.”
“Me, neither.”
Olivia refrained from pointing out that she and Will had described all the amenities and programs to them—more than once. “Mom, before I go,” she said. “Jack wanted me to ask what you’re making for tonight’s dinner.”
Ben and Charlotte exchanged a glance.
Olivia had asked because she suspected her mother hadn’t even tried the new stove.
“We had cornflakes last night,” Ben admitted.
“Cornflakes?” This was worse than she’d thought. “Oh, Mom, I was afraid this would happen.”
“Microwave popcorn the night before,” Charlotte murmured, shamefaced. “The microwave is easy to work. You just press the button that says popcorn.”
“It’s my fault,”