How Sweet It Is (6 page)

*

Jordan was staring at her oddly, which made Molly start to doubt the evening all over again. Clearly, the dress was all wrong, and who was she kidding? She was trying too hard. She wanted to turn back around and call the whole thing off, but that would be rude and she hated to be rude. “Is it too much? You should just tell me if it is. Say it. Say it’s too much.” Damn it all. Why was she so nervous?

Jordan set the sander on the ground, the odd expression morphing into a puzzled one. But she still hadn’t said anything because she was probably working on a really crafty arrangement of words that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. “It’s not too much.”

Molly narrowed her gaze. “Don’t humor me. These are desperate times.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. It’s a great dress. Trust me, Molly. I vote yes.”

“What if she goes for casual? Then I’ll look ridiculous in comparison.”

“Valid concern. Where are you having dinner?”

“The Lodge in Andersville, one town over.”

Jordan whistled low. “That’s a five-star restaurant. Jeans wouldn’t exactly cut it. Trust me, you’re good.”

Molly exhaled, feeling somewhat better and for the first time since coming outside, took in the scene in her front yard. Supplies were scattered across the lawn, her now naked shutters were laid out in a smart little row, already undergoing surgery. In response to the temperature, Jordan had pulled her dark hair into a ponytail and stripped down to just a tank top, a hint of perspiration dotted her chest. Molly shook her head slowly, taking her in. “You look like you should be in a calendar right now. A sexy one. I’d hate to see this go to waste. Should I take a photo for your Facebook page and your adoring fans?”

“If you do, I’d have to kill you. Besides, I was going for sweet and unassuming. Is there a calendar like that?”

“Oh, unassuming is not a word I would use to describe you, Jordy.” Her eyes widened in realization. “But you do look thirsty, and damn it, I made you lemonade.
Forgotten
lemonade. I’m a bad person. Hold that thought.”

“I was hoping you’d find a way to reward me,” Jordan called after her happily.

Molly raced back into the house and poured a full glass of her homemade lemonade, added a handful of ice cubes and topped it off with a fresh strawberry from her garden in back. She raced back outside and presented the glass to Jordan, who was now waiting on the front porch and dabbing the back of her neck with a bandana. “Voila. All is now right with the world.”

“You are an angel. Thank you.” Jordan took three generous swallows of the lemonade before staring longingly at the glass, mystified. “Are you kidding me? Did you make this too?”

“Guilty. It’s not like I’m going to serve instant.”

“You’re like Martha Stewart on crack; you realize this, don’t you?”

Molly placed her hand over her heart. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Continue to regale me with your confectionary genius and you might find yourself surprised at some of the things that’ll come out of my mouth.”

“Such a tease.” Molly checked her watch. “I hate to cut our time short, but I have to leave you here and go on an honest to goodness date. Is that okay?”

“It is. I’ll put in another twenty minutes or so before I lose the light entirely and then we can reconvene…maybe tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect. There’s a spare key under the mat if you’d like more forgotten lemonade. You’re also welcome to store those tools here so you don’t have to lug them back and forth.”

Jordan looked at her like she was crazy.

“What?”

“You keep your key under the mat? Tricky.”

“Look around, smart aleck. This isn’t exactly the hood. I think we’re safe.”

“Famous last words.” Molly shot her a look that meant business and Jordan held up her hands in acquiescence. “But it’s your place.”

“Thank you for getting that. Very perceptive of you. Any last minute advice?”

Jordan thought for a moment. “Take it for what it is. A first date. If it goes well, fantastic. If not, you’ve lost nothing.”

She tilted her head to the side, seeming to take in the words. “Got it. Nothing to lose. I’ll remember that. See ya, Jordan.” She exhaled slowly as she descended the steps, her stomach already a series of butterfly races at the prospect of the evening ahead of her. “Wish me luck.”

Jordan stared at her, that unreadable, odd expression back on her face. “You don’t need it.”

*

Once Molly’s car disappeared from sight, Jordan set back to work sanding the last shutter and trying hard not to think about the reaction she’d just had to Molly as she emerged from the house. It was an adolescent aftershock of a schoolgirl crush that never should have been. Plus, it had nothing to do with the fact that it was Molly, and everything to do with the fact that a beautiful woman,
any
beautiful woman, had just walked out of that house.

Of course she’d noticed her. She wasn’t dead.

She worked until the darkness enveloped her, stored her supplies in Molly’s garage, and headed home…after one last glass of killer lemonade.

*

The lodge was beyond bustling when Molly walked in. Nicely dressed folks chatted animatedly with one another as they waited for a table in the entryway to the restaurant. There wasn’t a ton of space to walk, and Molly now had regrets about the way they’d arranged to meet. How exactly was she supposed to find her date, Heather McLucken, the tax attorney? She studied the faces of those around her for any sign of dexterity with numbers. Unfortunately, no one was exactly walking the restaurant with an adding machine and a W4. Typical. It was then that someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Excuse me. You wouldn’t happen to be Molly, would you?”

Saved. “I am, yes. Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Heather McLucken.”

Molly accepted the woman’s extended hand and smiled widely. Heather was striking. A tall blonde with twinkly green eyes and a warm smile. Tonight might not be so bad after all. She felt herself perk up almost instantly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Molly O’Brien.”

Heather squeezed her hand, her eyes lingering on Molly’s for just the right amount of time for Molly to momentarily lose herself in their impressive shade. Suddenly she was so looking forward to dinner.

“Shall we? I think they have our table waiting. I pulled some strings and got us seated in a quieter part of the restaurant so we can get to know each other. I hope that’s okay.”

“It sounds fantastic. Thank you.”

As Molly moved toward the main dining area of the restaurant, Heather opened the door for her, earning a thousand points for good manners. She began brainstorming ways to thank Eden for this. A hug. A day off. An entire tray of truffles. Her firstborn.

As dinner got underway, things only seemed to get better. The conversation flowed easily, and Molly noticed that the faux confidence she had initially put forth was starting to feel authentic. It was actually kind of fun, this dating thing. Why had she held off for so long?

Heather took a delicate and rather sexy sip of her wine. “How’s your food? The chef here is one of the best in the state.”

“I’d have to say that’s evidenced here. The chicken’s cooked to perfection and the marinade accentuates the flavors nicely without overpowering. I’m kind of in heaven over here.”

Heather leaned her chin onto her palm. “I like the way you talk about food. I’m told you own a bakery.”

“That’s right. It’s just a small little place in Applewood, but people seem to like it.”

Heather nodded and covered Molly’s hand with her own. “I hope I’ll get to check it out sometime.”

Molly’s heart rate noticeably sped up.
Me too, Heather-the-tax-attorney. Me too.
“Well, you’re welcome anytime. What about you?
You must be thrilled now that tax season’s over.”

“Well, with the exception of all of the extensions we’ve filed, sure. I’m thinking that by next week—I’m sorry.” She held up one finger. “Can we pause this for a minute? I’m getting a call that might be important. So rude, but I need to take it.”

“Oh, of course. Go right ahead. I can wait. Don’t mind waiting.” So she was a babbling fool, but Heather was attractive and charming and well-spoken. Who wouldn’t have been?

It was then that Heather pressed a button on her phone and switched into take-charge mode. “Hi, Sal, yeah, I need in on the Celtics/Knicks action. I’ll take the Celtics for a dime.” Pause. She looked furious. “Just extend my credit, you asshole! I’m good for it. Don’t do this to me, Sal.” Pause. “Forget it. I’ll call Jimmy. Oh, and, Sal?
Fuck you
.” She placed the phone back in her purse, turned back to Molly, and assumed the same serene smile from several moments prior. “Anyway. Yes, next week will be about tying up loose ends at the office.”

Molly tried to pick up the conversation, really she did, but the person she’d just watched take that call was pretty much terrifying and not at all who she’d just had dinner with. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get off topic”—she gestured tentatively to the phone—“but is everything all right?”

Heather sighed. “It will be in a minute. Do you mind if I just…” She picked up her phone and pointed before proceeding to dial.

Molly raised her eyebrows and slowly went back to her chicken, doing her damndest to ignore the incredibly loud warning sirens going off in her head.

“Sammy, it’s Heather. I need the Celtics for a dime. You know what, on second thought, make it three.” Pause. “You’re the greatest. Just put it on my tab. I can settle with you in a week or so. I should have some cash coming in if all goes well with the playoffs on Sunday. Ciao.” She leaned into Molly and practically purred. “Now where were we?

Molly shook her head slowly in wonder. “I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. Are you into…gambling?”

Heather held her thumb and forefinger close together. “A minor hobby. Excuse me, sir?” she asked a passing busboy. “Can you get me the Lakers score?”

He leaned in discreetly. “Two minutes ago they were down by twelve.”

“Damn it!” she screamed at the room in general, inciting several glares from nearby tables. She grabbed for her phone and dialed angrily. “Bobby, can you get me the halftime betting lines? Now, asshole!” Molly wanted to die. To crawl under the table and die. Instead, she signaled the waiter for the check.

As she signed the credit card slip for
both
of their meals, Heather leaned in flirtatiously. “So explain to me how a woman as attractive and seemingly intelligent as you is still single?”

Molly sighed and set down the pen. “You know what? Single’s not so bad.”

Later that night, as Molly replayed the details of the date that had gone so terribly wrong, she wondered if it was some sort of sign that it was a bad idea. And for whatever reason, there was comfort in that. Her life wasn’t so bad, she reminded herself. She had her routine, her small group of friends and her family. That should be enough.

She checked the time. It was late and she was opening the next morning, but she knew what she wanted to do before bed. She snuggled under a blanket on the couch and reached for the remote. Images of their trip to Jamaica, hers and Cassie’s, flickered across her television, and she sighed into the comfort the home video provided. It was her go-to and she stole moments with it whenever she could.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Molly asked from behind the camera. Cassie sat on a beach towel in the sand.

“Because you’re adorable when you’re concentrating on working that thing.” The breeze caught her blond hair and lifted it. “Put that thing down and come in the water with me. We can stay where it’s shallow if you want.”

“Wait. Say where we are and what we’re doing first.”

Cassie smiled and looked straight into the camera. Because she couldn’t help herself, Molly paused the video and stared at the frozen image. The room was silent as Cassie smiled back at her from the screen. The features were so familiar, so beautiful, and full of life. It was when she watched this particular video that she felt closest to Cassie. They’d been so happy on that trip. She hugged the blanket to her and unpaused the DVD. Cassie’s voice filled the room. “It’s June. We’re in Jamaica. And we’re in love. Can we go in the water now?”

“We can. Blow me a kiss.”

And she did. Molly rewound it and watched the kiss again. And then the video went dark and she sat in the blackness, already feeling better as she drifted slowly to sleep.

The next day didn’t turn out as planned for Jordan. She woke up early, but the pitter-patter of raindrops on the window was only a sneak preview of the great big storms that would roll in and stay for most of the morning. She knew early on that she wouldn’t be able to finish the shutter job over at Molly’s so instead she headed for the clinic to make herself useful. They were down a receptionist and she’d volunteered to help out whenever she could. That seemed to make her parents happy, which was kind of her goal as of late.

She spent the morning organizing patient charts and scheduling, skills she’d picked up in high school and slid easily back into.

Her dad joined her midday in the break room for lunch, cutting his sub sandwich in half for them to split. He still wore his very official white coat she’d admired as a child, the pocket outfitted with a few token lollipops for the younger patients and a few demanding older ones. His hair was entirely gray now, and he’d shaved off the moustache he’d had for much of her childhood. “It’s nice having you around again, Jordana. I could get used to this.”

She smiled. She and her father didn’t always see eye to eye, but she enjoyed spending time with him one-on-one. He was a good guy. “You say that to all your kids.” But then that sounded strange because really there was just her and Mikey now.

He must have seen the realization flicker in her eyes. “Don’t look that way. I still have three kids, you know. Five, counting Teresa and Molly.”

Jordan nodded solemnly, knowing it was true. She played absently with the corner of her sandwich.