Free The Shop on Blossom Street by Debbie Macomber

voice, nodding at the other two women who sat across from her. “My name is Jacqueline Donovan. My husband’s architectural firm is responsible for the Blossom Street renovation. I wanted to learn how to knit because I’m about to become a grandmother for the first time.”
    Immediately Alix jerked her head up and stared at the older woman. “Your husband’s the one behind this whole mess? You tell him to keep his hands off my apartment, understand?”
    “How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice!”
    The two women glared at one another. Alix was halfway out of her chair, and I had to admire Jacqueline, who didn’t so much as flinch. I quickly turned to Carol. “Would you mind going next?” I asked and my voice must have betrayed my nervousness.
    I’d come to know Carol a little; she’d been in the shop twice already and had bought yarn. I knew why she’d joined the class and hoped we could be friends.
    “Yes, hi,” Carol said, sounding as unsettled as I felt.
    Alix continued to glare at Jacqueline but the older woman did a masterful job of ignoring her. I should have known something like this would happen, but felt powerless to stop it. Alix and Jacqueline were about as different as any two women could be.
    “My name is Carol Girard and my husband and I are hoping for a child. I’m currently undergoing fertility treatments. I’m having an IVF attempt in July. The reason I’m in this class is that I want to knit a blanket for my yet-to-be-conceived baby.”
    I could see from Alix’s face that she didn’t understand the term.
    “IVF refers to in vitro fertilization,” Carol explained.
    “I read a wonderful article about that in a recent issue of Newsweek magazine,” Jacqueline said. “It’s amazing what doctors can do these days.”
    “Yes, there are quite a few miracle drugs available now, but thus far Doug and I haven’t received our miracle.”
    The look of longing on Carol’s face was so intense, I yearned to put my hand on her shoulder.
    “July is our last chance at the IVF process,” she added. Carol bit down on her lower lip and I wondered if she knew how much of her anxiety she revealed.
    “What do they do to you with this in vitro stuff?” Alix asked, leaning forward. She seemed genuinely interested.
    “It’s a rather long, drawn-out process,” Carol said. “I’m not sure you want me to take class time to go though it all.”
    “Would you mind?” Alix asked, surprising me with her curiosity.
    “By all means,” Jacqueline chimed in, but I doubted that her interest was as sincere as Alix’s seemed to be.
    “Well,” Carol said, clasping her hands on the table, “it all starts with drugs.”
    “Doesn’t everything?” Alix laughed at her own joke, but no one else joined in.
    “I was on this drug that stimulates the ovaries to produce eggs, and once the eggs appeared, they had to be harvested.”
    “Did it hurt?” Jacqueline asked.
    “Only slightly, but all I had to do was think about a baby, and any discomfort was worth it. We both want to be parents so badly.”
    That much was obvious, and from what I’d seen of Carol I was sure she’d be a wonderful mother.
    “After the doctor collected Doug’s sperm, my eggs were inseminated to create a number of embryo cultures. These are then transferred to my uterus. We’ve had two attempts that didn’t succeed, and the insurance company will only pay for three and, well, it’s just very important that I get pregnant this time.”
    “It seems to me you’re putting lots of stress on yourself,” Alix said in what I found to be an insightful comment.
    “How nerve-racking for you both,” Jacqueline murmured.
    “I feel so confident, though.” Carol positively beamed with it. “I’m not sure why, but for the first time in months I feel really good about all of this. We decided to wait after our last attempt. Mostly because Doug and I needed a while to deal with our disappointment over the second failure. I also felt