The Shop on Blossom Street by Debbie Macomber

toll. Her stomach sagged and her breasts were those of a woman in her fifties. She pulled the towel more securely about her.
    “Are you kicking me out of the bathroom, too?”
    “I’d appreciate my privacy.”
    His eyes seemed to go cold for a moment before a blank look slid into place. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes when you’re available.”
    “Of course,” she murmured.
    Reese backed out of the room and closed the door.
    As Jacqueline stepped out of the tub, she realized she was trembling. She rested one hand on the counter to steady herself, and drew in a deep, calming breath whileshe gathered her wits. She dried off, then slipped into her satin nightgown and matching robe. She cinched it tightly about her waist and paused in an effort to still her pounding heart before seeking out her husband.
    Jacqueline found Reese in the kitchen, standing in front of the open refrigerator. He removed a take-out container she’d brought home from lunch two days earlier. She rarely cooked anymore, especially since Martha, their housekeeper, was more than willing to assume the task. Jacqueline had her own commitments and no longer bothered with meal preparation. Reese usually ate alone because he tended to stay late at the office. Or so he said.
    “What’s wrong?”
    He didn’t answer. Instead he lifted the lid and examined what remained of her Caesar salad with shrimp. Apparently it didn’t suit him because he closed it again and stuck the container back in the refrigerator. “Do we have any eggs?”
    “I think so,” she said, stepping between him and the refrigerator door. “Would you like me to make you an omelet?”
    “Would you?” He acted surprised that she’d offered.
    Irritated, Jacqueline took the egg carton from the door and grabbed a cube of Monterey Jack cheese.
    “What are you doing home?” she asked. If she was going to cook for him, the least Reese could do was answer her questions.
    He perched on the bar stool and watched as she chose a small frying pan and set it on the burner. “Do we have any mushrooms?”
    “No. Now answer my question.”
    Reese sighed laboriously.
    “Fine. Don’t tell me,” she muttered and turned away. Rummaging in the vegetable bin, she located a useablegreen pepper, half an onion and a questionable-looking zucchini, which she deftly tossed in the garbage.
    “You sent Paul and Tammie Lee a floral bouquet, didn’t you?”
    “I told you I would,” she said irritably. She wasn’t accustomed to explaining her actions to her husband. Since when was she accountable to Reese? And she hated the way he’d been nagging her about their daughter-in-law.
    “Did you hear from Paul?”
    Jacqueline pinched her lips to hide her displeasure. “No, but Tammie Lee phoned to thank us for the roses,” she answered with bad grace. Actually Tammie Lee had gushed with appreciation and chattered on as if she’d never seen a dozen roses before.
    “Is that all she said?”
    “Should she have said more?” she snapped. Jacqueline resented this inquisition, and she wanted him to know it.
    Reese glanced away. “I have no idea. You were the one who spoke to her.”
    “She informed me that she’s thrilled about being pregnant. According to her, the pregnancy was a surprise.” Jacqueline could hardly wait to hear what her country-club friends said when they learned Tammie Lee was expecting. Everyone knew her feelings toward her daughter-in-law and her hope that Paul would recognize his mistake.
    “I think she did it on purpose.” Jacqueline bristled just saying it. Tammie Lee knew exactly what she was doing. This baby was no more an accident than Pearl Harbor had been.
    “It’s Paul’s life.”
    “Do we need to keep having the same conversation?” The pan was hot and she cut off a small slice of butter and let it melt before tossing in the chopped vegetables. Taking her frustration out on the eggs, she cracked theirshells against the side of the bowl and beat three eggs