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said guiltily.

"It's no bother." They sat on the edge of the bed while Courtney examined the other girl's project.

"I think I dropped a stitch," Heather murmured.

Courtney could see that she had. "Don't worry. I've got a crochet hook in my desk. They work wonders." After retrieving the hook, she sat down with the half-completed sock.

"I can't look," Heather said, turning her head to stare in the opposite direction.

Courtney smiled. "I did the same thing to Lydia the first time I dropped a stitch. She told me we all lose a stitch now and then. Just like life, don't you think?"

"It is," Heather agreed. "We get so busy that it's easy to let some things slide. We can either pick them up again, or let them stay lost.... I never thought about knitting like that, though."

"I didn't either," Courtney confessed, "until I took Lydia's knitting class."

"You're right."

Courtney caught the loose stitch and carefully brought it up through the rows until she could slip it back on the thin needle. When she'd finished, she returned the sock to Heather.

"You learned a lot from those other knitters in Seattle, didn't you?"

"I did," Courtney said. More than she could possibly explain to anyone who hadn't taken part in those weekly sessions.

Elise was close in age to her grandmother - certainly older than anyone else she called a friend - yet that was how Courtney viewed her. They all kept in touch, and Elise phoned her every few weeks. Bethanne did, too. Courtney almost wished her father had stayed in Seattle longer so she could've introduced the two of them. She knew, from Lydia and Elise, that Bethanne was seeing men from time to time; it wasn't something Annie talked about. Bethanne's booming party business kept her busy these days, which Annie did like to mention.

All her Blossom Street friends - Bethanne, Lydia, Elise and the others - had helped Courtney deal with the grief of losing her mother. Five years had now passed since her mother's death, and while the pain wasn't as raw as it had once been, Courtney had never completely filled the emptiness in her life. But she'd seen how Bethanne's love for Andrew and Annie had carried her through the divorce. Maybe, years from now, when she had children of her own, she'd find that same kind of strength and completeness. Bethanne's love for her kids, Elise's for Aurora, Lydia's for Cody - these mother-child bonds reminded her of what she, too, had once had. That feeling was one of gratitude as well as sadness. Courtney recognized anew how deep her mother's love had been.

Lydia and Margaret reminded Courtney of her relationship with her own sister. She was close to Julianna in much the same way Lydia and Margaret were close. They supported each other and they bickered. Courtney found it entirely natural. She'd once heard Lydia explain that it hadn't always been like that, but seeing how well they worked together now, this was difficult for Courtney to believe.

After a couple of months, when they'd all considered each other friends, Lydia had talked about her experience with cancer. Courtney would never have guessed that Lydia had gone through chemotherapy and radiation. When she'd said this, Lydia had been absolutely thrilled and claimed it was proof she had "stepped outside herself." Courtney wasn't sure what that meant but was happy about Lydia's reaction.

"Thanks, Court," Heather said, collecting her knitting and leaving the dorm room.

"Glad to help," she said and sat back down at her computer.

She read over her e-mail to Lydia. "I realized again that living in Seattle was a blessing in more ways than I could count. A Good Yarn - " That was where she'd stopped when Heather came in. But she knew exactly what to say next.

CHAPTER 47

BETHANNE HAMLIN

"Mom, phone!" Annie shouted from the top of the stairs.

"Which line?" Bethanne called from the kitchen, her hands buried in hamburger.

"Business line. Do you want me to take it?"

"I'll get it." Bethanne nearly groaned. The party business was doing so well that she was booked months in advance. She washed her hands, then walked into the room that had once been Grant's office - her office now - where she kept the schedule for the upcoming parties.

She answered the call, scheduled an appointment for a consultation and went back to the kitchen, where she was shaping small meatballs around green olives for a six-year-old's Halloween birthday bash. Not long afterward, Annie drifted downstairs.

"You need any help with those?"