Debbie Macomber_Blossom Street 04
nodded patiently, wondering when her stepdaughter would get to the point.
    “The security guard let me in and when I walked into the office…”
    The waiter approached the table with their order; Melissa stopped talking and even seemed grateful for the intrusion.
    Anne Marie took her first taste, delicious despite her lack of appetite. Realizing Melissa hadn’t continued, she gestured with her spoon. “Go on. You walked into the office and?”
    Melissa nodded and reluctantly picked up her own spoon. “Rebecca was there, too.”
    “Mandatory overtime was one of the job requirements.”
    “She wasn’t exactly…working.”
    Anne Marie frowned. “What do you mean?”
    Melissa glared at her then. “Do I have to spell it out for you?” she demanded. “If you’re going to make me say it, then fine. Rebecca and my father were…they were having sex.”
    Anne Marie’s spoon clattered to the floor as the shock overwhelmed her. Her body felt mercifully numb, and her mind refused to accept what she’d heard. It was like the day the company president had come to the bookstore topersonally tell her Robert had died. The same kind of dazed unbelief.
    “I’m sorry, Anne Marie,” Melissa whispered. “I…I shouldn’t have been so straightforward, but I didn’t know how else to say it.”
    Melissa’s words had begun to fall together in her mind. Robert and Rebecca sexually involved. Rebecca pregnant and unmarried. Rebecca had a child .
    Anne Marie could no longer breathe.
    “Rebecca’s baby…”
    Melissa’s eyes held hers. “I’m not positive…but I think so. You know her better than I do. I only saw her the one time…with Dad, and then when I stopped by the office recently. I…I had the impression that she isn’t the type to sleep around. Oh, and she was at the funeral.”
    Anne Marie closed her eyes and shook her head. All of a sudden, the few spoonfuls of soup she’d managed to swallow came back up her throat. Grabbing her napkin, she held it over her mouth and leaped from her chair. She weaved unsteadily around the tables, then bolted for the ladies’ room and made it inside just in time. Stumbling into a vacant stall, Anne Marie was violently ill. When she finished, she was so weak she couldn’t immediately get up.
    Melissa was waiting for her as she came out of the stall and handed her a dampened paper towel. Tears had forged wet trails down the younger woman’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t have told you. I…I had no idea what else to do.”
    Anne Marie held the cold, wet towel to her face with both hands. Shock, betrayal, outrage—all these emotions bombarded her with such force she didn’t know which one to react to first.
    “I should’ve talked to Brandon,” Melissa whispered, leaning against the wall. She slid down until she was in a crouching position. “I shouldn’t have told you…I shouldn’t have told you.”
    A waitress came into the ladies’ room. “Is everything all right?” she asked, looking concerned. “The manager asked me to make sure there wasn’t anything wrong with your dinner.”
    As Melissa straightened, Anne Marie tried to reassure the woman that this had nothing to do with the food. “We’re fine. It wasn’t the soup…it’s nothing to worry about.”
    “There’ll be no charge for your dinners.”
    “No, please. I’ll pay.” The anger had begun to fortify her now, and she washed her hands with a grim determination that was sure to kill any potential germs.
    Melissa waited for her by the washroom door, following her back to the table. Anne Marie scooped up her purse and slapped two twenty-dollar bills down on the table. That should more than cover their soup and coffee. Like a stray puppy, her stepdaughter trailed her outside, a foot or two behind.
    The rain had begun in earnest by then and was falling so hard large drops bounced on the sidewalk. Anne Marie flattened herself against the side of the building while she struggled to comprehend what

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