Blossom Street (Books 1-10). Debbie Macomber
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get here?”
He checked his watch. “About ten minutes ago. I had fun chatting with your grandmother. You were a cute baby.”
Courtney rolled her eyes. “She showed you baby pictures of me?”
“Naked ones.”
“No!” Courtney would never forgive that.
Andrew chuckled. “Just kidding.”
“It isn’t funny.” Maintaining a suitable distance, she sat down on the ottoman and hoped she hadn’t perspired too much.
Andrew released a deep sigh and then sent a quick look in her direction. “Did you hear?”
She thought about recent gossip that had circulated around the school. Unfortunately, she didn’t hear many rumors, and even when she did, she rarely knew the people involved.
“Hear what?” she asked.
“Melanie and I aren’t going out anymore. We haven’t in quite a while, but it got a little complicated over the summer and—well, let’s just say it’s over.”
Andrew seemed to be waiting for a comment from her. Courtney wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry,” was the best she could come up with.
“You are?”
Not really, but … “Breaking up is hard.”
“Not on my end. Melanie and I don’t have a lot in common.”
“What does this mean for Homecoming?”
Andrew shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything. If I’m crowned king, I’ll have my date and if Melanie’s named queen, she’ll have hers. No big deal either way.”
Being new at the school, Courtney wasn’t sure how this worked.
“Are you going to the Homecoming dance?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He seemed surprised. “I thought Mike asked you.”
Courtney stretched the truth just a little. “I think he’s building up his courage, but he hasn’t yet.” She immediately felt bad for overstating the likelihood of his asking her, but she didn’t want Andrew to think she was entirely without prospects—which at this point, she was—or that she was angling for an invitation from him.
“It’s getting down to the wire, don’t you think?”
The dance was a week away, and almost everyone already had a date. Courtney was convinced Mike would ask Jocelyn. Monica agreed and suggested that rather than be left out, the two of them attend the dance together, dates or not. A lot of girls did that, and guys, too.
“Why are you asking?” she asked curiously. “In fact, why are you here?”
“Can’t a friend come by without getting the third degree?”
Suddenly Courtney felt a knot in her stomach. “Your mother put you up to this, didn’t she?” She got to her feet and started pacing. No wonder he was so vague! Courtney remembered that it was Bethanne who’d suggested Andrew find her a ride to and from school. She’d also coerced him into taking her to the Mariners’ game that first time.
“My mother had nothing to do with this.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“Don’t go all psycho on me,” he muttered. He vaulted to his feet, raking his fingers through his hair. “Listen, there’s probably a better way to ask you to the Homecoming dance, but—”
Courtney’s head reared back. “You’re asking me to the dance?” She hadn’t dared to even hope for this. Was he serious? He wasn’t teasing her, was he? That would be too cruel.
He nodded. “But listen, there might be a bit of a problem with Melanie.”
“What do you mean?”
His shoulders rose in a sigh. “She’s the jealous type.”
“So the breakup wasn’t mutual?”
He shook his head sadly. “No. Not exactly. She’s pretty upset and, well—I felt I should warn you.”
Courtney frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
Andrew smiled apologetically. “I was afraid if I did, you might refuse to go to the dance with me.” He studied her, an expectant look on his face.
This wasn’t a joke. He was serious. Andrew wanted to take her to Homecoming. “Oh, Andrew,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “I’d be honored to be your date.” She didn’t have a thing to wear—oh, if she’d ever needed her sister, it was now.
Andrew brightened. “Annie said you would.”
“She put you up to this?”
“No way, but she did give me some advice.” Andrew grinned, raising one foot. “She suggested I wear the socks. Did it work?”
Courtney laughed. “Tell her it did,” she said, smothering a laugh.
42
CHAPTER
BETHANNE HAMLIN
Bethanne was in the midst of party preparations for an eight-year-old boy. Todd was a fan of old-fashioned Western movies and TV shows, the cowboy and Indian shoot’em up kind. Bethanne had developed a party for him revolving around his favorite hero, the Lone Ranger. The invitations were out, and everyone was asked to come dressed as a cowboy. Bethanne planned to bring her guitar and she’d made arrangements to have a few bales of hay delivered. The parents had agreed to a campfire in their large backyard, and after various games, the boys would eat sitting around the fire and then she’d lead a singalong. In order to get in the mood, she’d tie a red bandanna around her neck and wear her cowgirl boots. She’d even bought a tin sheriff’s badge to pin to her plaid shirt.
Humming to Reba McEntire, she stirred the pork and beans warming on the stove. They were canned, but she’d added liquid smoke to give them the flavor of having been cooked on a campfire.
The games were more involved, since she wanted to stick to the western theme, and she planned to talk over her ideas with Andrew when he got home from school. Everything else was settled, including the menu.
Bethanne liked Elise’s idea of making a schedule of standard party ideas, so she wouldn’t need to start from scratch with every child. Who would’ve believed her creativity would get her this far? Her one drawback was the lack of start-up cash. It was hard to balance all her expenses and still make the house payments, but she was learning the importance of following a budget. Money was tight, but both her son and daughter understood that this was important. They all had to sacrifice if the business was going to survive.
The telephone rang, and Bethanne reached for it. Tucking the portable phone against her shoulder, she continued stirring. Pork and beans was the least expensive grocery item on her list, but she didn’t want to risk scorching them.
“This is Bethanne,” she said. When she could afford it, she intended to get a separate line for the party business.
“Ms. Hamlin, this is Gary Schroeder from Puget Sound Security.”
“Yes?”
“We talked briefly a few weeks ago about a loan application you’d submitted,” he said. “I hope I haven’t caught you at an inconvenient moment.”
Bethanne tried to remember this particular loan officer, but drew a blank. She’d been ushered in and out of each financial institution in record time, so it was little wonder she didn’t recall meeting him.
“This is fine.” The timer on the oven told her the birthday cake was finished.
“Perhaps it would be better