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Susannah's Garden

Page 31

by Debbie Macomber


  Susannah drew in her breath and blurted it out. “Mom, I’m going to buy a flower shop.”

  Vivian’s eyes widened. “A what?”

  “A flower shop. Joe and I talked almost all night. I need a career change. I’m burned out as a teacher. In fact, it’s only been during these last few weeks that I recognized what was happening.”

  “A flower shop,” her mother repeated as though testing the idea. “Where?”

  “In downtown Seattle, on Blossom Street. Joe was there this week and he saw the For Sale sign at Fannie’s Flowers. He stopped in to investigate and ask her some questions. I haven’t talked to the owner myself yet, but the terms seem very reasonable. It feels so right, Mom.”

  Vivian looked at Joe. “That stubborn daughter of mine needs you, doesn’t she?”

  “I keep telling her that,” Joe said, winking at Susannah.

  Susannah nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Did you see the doctor today, Mom?” she asked quickly.

  Vivian nodded. “He says I’ve got a ways to go, but I’ll do it.”

  “I know you will,” Joe said, “and Susannah and I will visit often.”

  “Good. Bring some of those flowers when you do.” She reached for her napkin. “It wasn’t easy giving up my home, but I realize now it was the best thing for me. Changing careers will be good for Susannah, too.” Her mother sounded more clearheaded than she had all summer.

  “I think so, too, Mom.”

  “I haven’t seen you this happy in…in years, Susannah.”

  “I am happy, Mom. I feel wonderful.” Her mother might be experiencing memory problems, but her intuition was in excellent working order. Although Susannah hadn’t said a word about her father, she knew that Vivian sensed she’d made peace with the past and was looking forward to her future.

  “Good.” Her mother nodded once. Using the napkin to dab her mouth, she casually said, “George was by.”

  “Dad?” Susannah asked, sharing a secret smile with her husband.

  “No, no, my friend George from Altamira. He didn’t get to stay long, but it’s nice to have company.” Her mother blushed as she said it. “There’s nothing romantic about it, mind you. George is my friend. He told me there’s a big bingo pot building and I should hurry back before someone else gets it.” Then she abruptly switched gears. “Fannie’s Flowers? Will you keep the name?”

  Susannah hadn’t thought about that yet; the idea was still being born. “I don’t know. Do you have a suggestion?”

  Her mother nodded, eyes twinkling. “Call it Susannah’s Garden.”

  “Susannah’s Garden,” she repeated slowly. She liked the sound of it.

  “There’s a yarn store next door,” Joe added. “They apparently offer classes.”

  This was good news. Her mother had taught her to knit years ago, but Susannah hadn’t picked up her needles in far too long. She’d love to take a class if she could fit it into her new schedule.

  Vivian lay back against the pillow, looking tired.

  “We’ll let you rest now, but we’ll be back later,” Susannah said.

  Her mother accepted Susannah’s kiss on her cheek. Grabbing hold of her arm, Vivian whispered, “Joe loves you.”

  “I know, and I love him, too,” she whispered back.

  As they approached the elevator, Joe stole a kiss before he pushed the call button.

  Stepping into the elevator, she moved into Joe’s arms. “I hope you know how very much I love you.”

  Joe backed her into the corner and kissed her passionately. They hardly noticed that the elevator had come to a stop and the doors slid open.

  “Look, Mom, newlyweds,” a young girl squealed from the hospital lobby.

  Embarrassed, Susannah and Joe disentangled their arms and self-consciously walked onto the marble floor.

  “Are you newlyweds?” the youngster asked.

  Joe chuckled. “In a manner of speaking, we are,” he told her, reaching for Susannah’s hand.

  She’d found her husband again this summer—the summer that changed everything.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5477-4

  SUSANNAH’S GARDEN

  Copyright © 2006 by Debbie Macomber.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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