How Sweet It Is (2 page)

He rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t stand another minute of her. It was part of his charm. “I’ll take two and a cup of joe. Regular,
not decaf
.” He scowled deeper. “Don’t you think you should write it down, for heaven’s sake?”

She grinned patiently. “Two cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee. I think I got it.”

“Good thing you can bake or you people would run this place into the ground. Your father never used to keep his customers waiting. Where’s Louise?” He scanned the area behind the counter for any glimpse.

“Around here somewhere, I hope.” Louise, her elderly employee, was MIA but happened to be the one person Mr. Jeffries seemed to tolerate. Which meant he was hot for her.

Molly prepared his order as she did every morning, and as he headed off to his regular table by the window, she turned to her next customers, a young couple smiling brightly, a toddler at their sides. In fact, one of the most adorable toddlers she’d ever seen. “Morning, guys. Welcome to Flour Child. What can I get for you?”

“Well, you’ve already sold us on the cinnamon rolls, I think,” the man said. “And an orange raspberry muffin too. The lady at the inn said we have to try those.”

Molly nodded knowingly as she rang them up. “That’s Alice. She’s a fan.”

The wife smiled. “She insisted we stop by. Said you had pastries sent by God himself. The best in Illinois.”

“Well, Alice leans toward hyperbole, but they are pretty good. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

“Are you the owner?”

Molly nodded. “I am.”

“It’s such a cute little place. So much character.”

Molly looked around, taking in the bakeshop through new eyes. Checkered tablecloths, lots of framed art, photos from over the years. “Thanks. My father opened the place not long after I was born.” She pointed to Flour Child’s logo on the wall affectionately, zeroing in on the little girl with the halo of flowers in her hair. “And that’s me. My dad’s retired now, but he’s left us all his great recipes, and hopefully, I’ve added a few decent new ones.” She handed them their plates. “Enjoy and come back and see us.”

“We definitely will.” The family picked out one of the five tables in the shop and sat down to enjoy their breakfast. As she wiped down the counters, Molly’s gaze drifted back to the couple and she watched as they fed the toddler, encouraging her to taste the cinnamon roll and laughing when she grinned back at them in lip-smacking approval. She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she and Cassie would have laughed with their own child, if they’d had one. With so much warmth and adoration. She’d like to think so.

She shook herself out of it.

Cassie’s commuter plane had gone down four years ago.

Actually, four years, two months, and a handful of days, but somehow it didn’t seem that way. It felt like yesterday that Cassie was teasing her or whispering sweetly in her ear each morning.

It was easier now, thinking about Cassie. But it was moments like these that Molly wondered if she’d ever get a chance at a family of her own someday. She wanted that. Kids, someone to share it all with, the whole deal. And other than the debut of her first two gray hairs, the ones she’d hastily plucked from her head that morning, it seemed she was still capable of having them.

She sat on the stool.

Time was marching on, and sometimes she felt like it was marching on without her. Thirty-two years old was still young…kinda. She wandered back into the kitchen and did what she always did when something was on her mind. “What do you think, Cassandra? Is it time for me to get back on the horse?”

Silence. As there always was when she talked to Cassie.

But there
were
times when she felt Cassie’s presence in her life; she was sure of it. The number eight had a way of showing up a lot, and she suspected strongly that Cassie had something to do with it. It had been her favorite number if for nothing else than the Magic Eight Ball she consulted for all important life decisions.

“Sorry I’m late.” Eden Young rushed into the kitchen and began putting on her apron, pulling Molly abruptly from her thoughts. “Bless her heart; my next-door neighbor didn’t know how to program her cable box. One sandwich short of a picnic, that one. I had to step in and help out and…” She paused and shot Molly a curious glance. “What is it, sugar? You look like you just solved the mystery of life for all of us.”

“Eden.” Molly turned to her best friend and employee thoughtfully. “I think I might be ready to start dating again.”

Eden’s eyes widened in supreme delight and she shook Molly’s hands eagerly. “Well, hallelujah. It’s like a hug from little baby Jesus in here.” Eden’s Southern sass was out in full force today. “What, may I ask, brought this on?”

“I don’t know. There was the cutest little family in the shop earlier, and I watched them and thought, yeah, I want that. And I do. I think I’m ready to take that step.”

Eden clapped her hands once. “Well, who’s it going to be? Who’s the lucky girl you’ve got your eye on?”

Molly was at a loss. She didn’t have her eye on anybody. In all honesty, Cassie had been the only woman she’d ever been with, and they’d been a couple since high school. The concept of dating at all was a little foreign to her.

Then there was the little matter of living in a small town.

The lesbian-to-Molly-ratio was crazy small. There was Celia the librarian, but she was at least twenty years older. Savanna and Trish were both great, but, well, they were a couple already. That left Summer Siller, who she’d gone to high school with. Summer had never quite forgiven her for taking Cassie off the market and still seemed to have it out for Molly to this day. Summer was definitely not a prospect. In fact, Summer should be avoided at all costs. Summer was lesbian Satan. “I think I’m going to have to broaden my horizons. Maybe look beyond the borders of Applewood.”

Eden did a little hop. “Sugar, I know just the person to call. My friend Paulene lives two towns over and knows absolutely anyone who is worth knowing. I’ll put a call in to her, and we’ll have more lesbians than you can shake a stick at lining up for you.”

Molly’s face went hot and she felt all sorts of reluctance. “You know what? This whole thing sounds a little too crazy. Bad idea. Are we sure I should be doing this? I think we should rewind.”

“Don’t you dare back out now. This is progress.” Eden took a step forward, her eyes steely in almost scary determination. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to utter those adorably tentative words you said earlier? Since God was a baby, that’s how long. Now stand up straight and be strong.”

Molly stood tall for no other reason than because Eden said to and she was a little frightening in this moment. “Strong. Got it. Working on it. A little.” Seriously, who was she kidding?

“Sorry I disappeared on you, Mollydolly.” Louise puttered in carrying a brown paper sack. Saved by the bell! Or the little old lady who worked for her. “The used bookstore next door was having a sale, and I scurried in to pick up some of their old recipe books. I knew you wouldn’t miss me.”

“What, had to beat the crazy crowd?” Eden deadpanned because there wouldn’t have been one.

“I had to beat old Mrs. Bleakerson is what I had to do. She’s getting on in years, but she’s aggressive when it comes to her marinades. I’m stronger though.” Molly smiled because Mrs. Bleakerson was sixty-one and still nine years younger than Louise herself.

Switching gears, Molly turned to Eden. “Do you think you can close for me? It’s Wednesday, so I need to stop by the cemetery and still have time to freshen up before my dinner at Gibson’s tonight. You know, try to look presentable. Lose the flour glaze.”

“I suppose you could twist my arm if you threw in a few of those truffles on the house.”

Molly followed her gaze to the latest batch. “Help yourself. You always do anyway.”

“This is a fact. So Gibson’s, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“Cassie’s little sister, Jordan, is coming home for a bit. It’s kind of a major deal. She hasn’t been back since, well…the funeral.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice for Amalia and Joseph to get to spend some time with her.” In actuality, Molly knew it was that and more. Her mother- and father-in-law would pull out all the stops to celebrate Jordan’s homecoming. They’d already closed down the clinic for the day, rented out Gibson’s restaurant that night, and were hosting the immediate family—which still included her—for a celebratory dinner in Jordan’s honor.

Jordan Tuscana.

While part of Molly wanted to smack Jordan on the back of the head for staying away for so long, the other part of her was genuinely excited to see her again.

“So what do we know about the mysterious younger Tuscana?” Eden nibbled on a truffle. “These are amazing, Mol.”

“Thanks.” She considered the question, reminding herself that Eden hadn’t grown up in Applewood. “Jordan? Oh, she’s—”

“As wild as they come. Or at least she used to be,” Louise supplied dryly. “Gave her parents fits when she was in high school, dropped out of college with only one year left, and ran off to make movies, skittering about the country. It about broke both doctors’ hearts. They wanted her to go into medicine like the rest of them. Friendly kid though. You couldn’t help but forgive whatever trouble she got into because she was so darn sweet and charming. Could grin her way out of anything.”

Molly tilted her head and tried to explain things another way. “She went through a rebellious patch in high school, that’s all. But the Jordan I remember was good at heart, a rascally little kid that would follow Cassie and me around incessantly. I used to babysit her back when I was fifteen, sixteen. That would have made her ten, I guess. We’d read books together for hours until she fell asleep.” Molly felt that wistful lump of nostalgia in her throat for a time when everything felt simpler, lighter. Like nothing bad could ever happen to any of them.

But Jordan’s growing up years hadn’t been so easy. It had been hard for her with Cassie as an older sister. Cassie got straight A’s, broke school records on the soccer field, and followed all of her parents’ rules to a tee. And with the bar set so high, Jordan simply didn’t measure up. After a while, she purposefully stopped trying. She lived life on her own terms, and that often made waves in the Tuscana household.

“So she and Cassie were close?” Eden popped her fourth truffle.

“Um, mostly, yeah, especially in their younger years. But once Jordan went off to college, they drifted a bit. She took Cassie’s death incredibly hard though and pretty much shut everyone out. We haven’t seen her much since.”

“I hope I get to meet this person. She sounds intriguing.”

Molly picked up her messenger bag as she prepared to leave. “I’m sure you will, Eden.” She paused for a moment. “You know what? I’m just glad she’s coming home. It’s time.”

*

Molly’s house was pretty. That was a good word for it. But old and in desperate need of some repair. It was on her to-do list in addition, of course, to learning
how
to fix up a house
.
Maybe that would happen after she figured out a way to manufacture more time in the day and you know, learn to fly.

She fumbled in her bag for her keys and subsequently struggled with the front door that always managed to stick. A daily battle. At least her arms got a workout. She suppressed a cheer when the door finally gave in after she rammed it like a goat. In unfortunate news, the force of the impact caused one of the decorative shutters on the outside of the house to fall decidedly on one side. It clung to life, but seemed sad now, hanging there so crookedly. She felt sorry for it and herself, as it was yet another repair to deal with.

Molly had purchased the home three years prior, having gotten it for a steal when the elderly owner moved in with her son’s family. It was the first major purchase she’d made on her own since Cassie, and it had been just what she was looking for. Tall, mature trees, friendly neighbors, and the perfect amount of space to cozy up in. She’d taken the modest two-story with the cute blue shutters and made it her own over time. It was comfortable, simple, home. She was rather proud of her little place, even if it was falling apart.

Once inside, she fed her beta fish, appropriately named Rover, and watched him celebrate with three laps around the tank. “Nice form, Rover. Seriously. Those Olympic scouts aren’t gonna know what hit ’em.” That’s when her phone vibrated in voice mail notification. She studied the screen curiously. How had she missed the call? Because you were busy masquerading as one of the Billy Goats Gruff, she reminded herself.

The singular voice mail was from her father, who now lived at Applewood Manor, a retirement home a couple of miles up the road. She listened to his voice as she perused the contents of her closet for a passable outfit for the evening’s festivities.

“Hey there, Mollydolly, I got your message about the dinner tonight. Don’t worry about stopping by. I’ve had a great but very tiring day and will probably just turn in early anyway.”

She paused and looked down at the phone. It wasn’t often she went a whole twenty-four hours without stopping by to visit her dad. He’d been in better health lately, but the congestive heart failure he suffered from seemed to affect him more in spurts. She expected a rough few days ahead in exchange for the good ones he’d experienced so far this week.

While she wanted to call him back to make sure he’d eaten well and received his daily medication on time, the clock on the wall reminded her she was dangerously close to arriving late for dinner, a crime her time-conscious in-laws, the dueling Dr. Tuscanas, would frown upon despite their adoration for her. To make it up to her dad, she’d stop off and see him for lunch the next day, maybe bring him a snack or two from the bakeshop. That always seemed to perk him up.

Molly tackled her closet, spending the next ten minutes trying on upward of seven different outfits, all with the same devastating result. Too tight. Okay, how had this happened? She’d weighed an even hundred and twenty-two pounds since the age of fifteen when she’d first hit puberty. Blinking back a frustrated tear or two, she stepped onto the scale in her bathroom, her mouth falling open at the news.