The Knitting Diaries by Debbie Macomber

opened the book.
    In neat and even cursive writing, Ellen had carefully written each of her twenty wishes. Several had been crossed out, including the trip to Paris they’d taken almost a year earlier.
    “I have a twenty-first wish.”
    “And what would that be?” Anne Marie asked, bending forward to read what her daughter had written.
    Ellen rested the book on Anne Marie’s lap. Sure enough, at the bottom of the third page was her twenty-first wish. I wish my mom and dad would get married.
    “Your…dad,” Anne Marie said. A tingling sensation went down her spine.
    “You already said you like the way he kisses,” Ellen pointed out.
    “That’s true.” Anne Marie couldn’t very well deny it now.
    “And he likes your kisses, too.” Ellen paused. “Sometimes wishes do come true. Look how many of mine already have,” she said, smoothing the page.
    The trip to Paris.
    Finding her father.
    Learning to knit.
    Anne Marie couldn’t read any further because the words began to blur as tears gathered in her eyes. “That’s a very nice wish,” she murmured. “But you have to remember that sometimes wishes don’t come true. And sometimes, even if they do, it takes a long time.”

Ten
    May 5
    April knows how to knit really well now. She doesn’t even need my help anymore. I told her about the bride’s purse I’m making and now she wants to knit one, too, only she doesn’t know anyone who’s getting married. Her mom is taking her down to A Good Yarn on Saturday and she said I could come. Mom and I have been knitting every night after dinner. I’m glad I showed her my twenty-first wish. I wasn’t going to, but I did, anyway.
    A nne Marie heard from Mel every day for the next week. He phoned at least once and sometimes twice. Invariably he’d invite her somewhere—dinner, a movie, even just coffee—but Anne Marie always found an excuse. Still, Mel persisted. Finally, unable to put him off any longer, she agreed to meet him for a drink on Friday night, after work. Conveniently, Ellen had a playdate with another girl from school.
    Tim phoned, too, but he spoke only to Ellen and, other than a polite exchange of greetings, he didn’t haveanything to say to Anne Marie. His lack of communication made her realize how much she’d come to rely on him and how much she’d looked forward to their conversations.
    Lillie Higgins stopped by the bookstore early Friday afternoon. Lillie was not only a good friend, but one of Anne Marie’s best customers. A voracious reader, she’d built up an extensive library and often purchased several hardcovers at a time.
    “Oh, the book you ordered came in,” Anne Marie said. She’d meant to phone and leave a message earlier, but had gotten sidetracked, which seemed to be the norm lately. She really did need to focus on business, she told herself, instead of the sad state of her personal life.
    “I thought it must have,” Lillie said as she walked up to the service counter. “It usually takes you about three days to get a special order in.”
    While Anne Marie retrieved the Mexican cookbook for her, Lillie wandered over to the new display Teresa had arranged. “I haven’t heard from you since the move.” She picked up the latest bestseller by a popular suspense author and flipped through the pages. “I got your thank-you note. Hector and I enjoyed ourselves.”
    “I really appreciate everyone’s help,” Anne Marie said.
    “That Tim is quite the character, isn’t he?” Lillie commented with a laugh. “While we were loading up the truck, he and Ellen were singing ABBA songs at the top of their lungs. He actually has quite a nice voice. Ellen, too.”
    At the mention of Tim’s name, Anne Marie lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to think about him, yet he was constantly on her mind. Not an hour passed without her being reminded of him in some way.
    “My dear,” Lillie said, placing one beautifully manicured hand on Anne Marie’s arm. “What is it? Did I say