"and while i was here, i thought i'd see how you were doing."

"i'm busy," she returned stiffly. "actually, i have a date myself." she found herself stretching the truth, but steve had asked her out, and even if it wasn't possible that evening, she would eventually be seeing him.

her blatant attempt to discourage christian didn't seem to be working. "with whom?"

"not that it's any of your business, but he's an old friend of my husband's." she turned her back to him and removed her jacket.

his smile had vanished when she turned around. "does this so-called friend have a name?"

"of course he has a name. what's the matter, don't you believe me?"

"i believe you," he said, and looked away as susannah stepped up to the counter and gave him back his credit card.

"thank you for your order, mr. dempsey. i'll make sure the flowers are lovely."

she spoke with a little more enthusiasm than colette deemed strictly necessary.

"thank you," he said, and shot colette an enigmatic smile that she puzzled over for days.

chapter 9

"when making sweaters and you're off gauge, don't worry! fudge and smudge until it fits!"

joyce renee wyatt, designer and instructor

lydia goetz

b rad and i invited matt and margaret over for dinner on the first sunday in march. it was my husband's suggestion and i'm grateful he thought of it. after julia's attack, margaret still wasn't the same. julia herself was back in school but refused to talk about what had happened, even to her mother. it was as if a giant boulder had crashed through the roof; everyone had to walk around it and pretend it wasn't there. at any hint or mention of the carjacking, julia disappeared into her room, plugged her ipod into her ears and zoned out for hours on end.

i knew this couldn't be healthy and i was afraid margaret's response wasn't, either. my sister wanted revenge and she wanted it badly enough to hound the authorities day and night.

i'd hoped that an evening out with brad and me would help my sister put aside her anger, at least for a few hours. every day she arrived at work tense and angry, snapping at me without provocation. just that week, i'd asked her a simple question about an order i'd had her place for circular knitting needles and she'd yelled at me, saying she was a responsible adult and i'd made her feel like a child. i hardly knew how to respond to the unreasonableness of her attack. thankfully, no customers were in the shop at the time.

brad and i spent the afternoon shopping and then cooking. we make a good team on the domestic front-and in every other way. my husband's a master at the barbecue, and we decided to grill chicken. i made a batch of potato salad, following a recipe tammie lee donovan had given me. it has jalape