CHAPTER

      2

       Phoebe Rylander

      Clark made their breakup far more difficult than it needed to be. Phoebe had just stepped out of A Good Yarn when her cell phone chirped again. She didn’t have to check Caller ID to know it was Clark Snowden, her fiancé. No…ex-fiancé.

      The man she still loved, despite everything.

      She’d had no choice except to end their engagement, no matter how much her heart ached. When she thought about what he’d done, she knew she couldn’t allow him to dissuade her again. Not this time. It was final. She told herself that nothing he could say or do would change her mind. But soon she’d be walking into an empty condo and it would feel so lonely and isolated that she was afraid her resolve would weaken. This afternoon she’d felt stronger and more in control of her emotions. The knitting class would help, too.

      Knowing what she had to do didn’t make it easy. Clark’s efforts to win her back turned the whole ordeal into an even bigger mess. He’d gone so far as to involve their families. But she couldn’t, she simply couldn’t, let herself give in.

      Her cell phone continued to make its little chirping noises, announcing his call.

      If Phoebe didn’t answer, Clark would just leave a message and then try again. She flipped open her phone. “Don’t call me anymore,” she said emphatically, surprised at the conviction in her voice. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

      “Phoebe, please…don’t. Let me—”

      “This conversation is over.” She started to hang up.

      “Phoebe, please, the least you can do is hear me out.”

      “I already have.” She hesitated. “There’s nothing more to say.”

      “I’m begging you.”

      “Clark, I returned your engagement ring. It’s over. We’re through.”

      “You’re angry and you have every right to be. But if you’d give me five minutes, just five minutes, I could explain everything.”

      Oh, he was good—as plenty of juries had discovered. “No, Clark, I fell for that the first time. This is it. I’m done. As of a week ago we are officially unengaged.”

      “You don’t mean that! You can’t. You love me and I’m crazy about you…. You know that, Phoebe. You have to know that. I’d never, ever do anything to hurt you. I’d rather die.”

      “If that was the case, I’d be picking out a coffin for you because you have hurt me, Clark.” Her voice faltered and she hated the fact that she’d shown even this small weakness. Rather than continue the conversation, she closed her cell.

      Walking at a clipped pace, she hurried down Blossom Street, her vision blurred by tears. At the intersection, she swiped one hand across her cheek, sniffling despite herself. She’d gone for a walk on her lunch hour and ventured much farther than she normally did. In fact, she’d never set foot on Blossom Street before today. But by now she was late; she had to get back to work. Her boss at Madison Avenue Physical Therapy was understanding, but he wouldn’t appreciate it if she kept a patient waiting.

      When she got to the clinic, Phoebe was breathless. She hadn’t eaten lunch and her stomach was already in knots. Well, there was nothing she could do about that.

      Mrs. Dover was in the clinic’s waiting room as Phoebe rushed in the front door. Her patient lowered the magazine and smiled at Phoebe, who did her best to smile back. Caroline Dover had undergone a complete knee replacement and she had a regularly scheduled appointment at one o’clock every Wednesday. She’d been seeing Phoebe for the past six weeks; they were making progress, although it was slow.

      “Come on back,” Phoebe told the older woman. She hurried ahead of her and drew in a deep breath. It would take a lot of resolve to get through the afternoon.

      By concentrating strictly on her patients, she made it to the end of the day. At five-ten, she pulled on her jacket and grabbed her purse, eager to escape. Because she couldn’t resist, she checked her cell phone. Clark had left three messages. Refusing to be swayed, she erased each one without listening.

      She dared not let herself hear his voice; she was too susceptible. The problem was, she wanted to believe him. …She so badly wanted all of this to go away. That was why she’d impulsively signed up for the knitting class. Knit to Quit. The sign in the yarn shop window had been like a flashing neon light. If she was going to convince Clark that she was serious—and she was—she’d need a distraction to help her through the next few weeks.

      Her hand tightened on her cell phone. Even as her fingers pushed the buttons to erase Clark’s messages, she yearned to talk to him. She wanted to be reassured of his love, wanted him to offer some plausible reason that would explain his need to seek out other women. However, there were no reasons. No excuses. Nothing he could say would change what he’d done.

      “Did you and Clark have another spat?” Bill Boyington, her boss, asked as she started out the door.

      The question caught her unawares.

      “What makes you ask?” Phoebe had done her utmost to remain professional and therefore unemotional all week. She hadn’t revealed to anyone at work that she’d ended her engagement.

      “There were flowers delivered for you.” He motioned to the receptionist’s desk.

      Sure enough, a huge floral arrangement sat on the corner. She wondered how she’d missed seeing it. Orchids, lilies and roses were interspersed among white hydrangeas; obviously Clark had spared no expense. It occurred to her that they were more fitting for a funeral than a reconciliation. But in many ways this was a funeral and Phoebe felt like weeping all over again.

      Determined to be strong, she squared her shoulders. “I don’t want them.”

      Bill looked at her oddly.

      “Take them home to Louise,”