Twenty Wishes. Debbie Macomber

still, Anne Marie agreed. Elise was probably right—it would help to talk about this and to eat. With the glimmer of a smile she recalled Elise’s advice at the Valentine’s get-together. Theresa took over for her, and Anne Marie collected her purse and walked out with Elise.

      “You should be wearing more than a sweater,” the older woman told her.

      Anne Marie shrugged half heartedly. “You’re beginning to sound like my mother,” she murmured.

      “From the look in your eyes, I’d say you need one.”

      That comment brought immediate tears, which Anne Marie struggled to hide as she returned to the office for her jacket. She grabbed a tissue to wipe her nose, then tossed it in the waste basket. She certainly couldn’t talk to her mother about what she’d learned. Laura Bostwick would use it as an opportunity to harangue Anne Marie about the huge mistake she’d made in marrying Robert. Laura had disapproved from the start. Trapped in her own unhappiness, she seemed to take a malevolent pleasure in destroying other people’s joy.

      Elise linked arms with her as they crossed the street. “You’re so thin now I’m afraid a strong wind will blow you away.”

      “Oh, come on, Elise. Don’t exaggerate.”

      “It’s a problem I wish I had,” Elise muttered. “When Maverick died, I’m afraid I buried my sorrows in food. Isn’t that ridiculous, considering how closely I watched his diet?” Unexpectedly she smiled. “He said he ate like a bird—flax seed, blueberries, wheat germ… Maverick had such a delightful sense of humor. I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever stop missing him.” She shook her head and brought her attention back to Anne Marie.