Authors: Melissa Brayden
Molly resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though it was hard. They’d put the same kind of pressure on Cassie, who, in contrast to Jordan, would have done anything to please her parents. She’d earned her business degree, settled in town, and took over the managing of Applewood Primary Care. Under her watchful eye, her parents’ clinic had grown to an overwhelming success, drawing tons of patients from neighboring towns.
But Jordan was different, and there was nothing wrong with that. It was just a shame the rest of the family didn’t seem to agree.
“I don’t think that’s the direction I’m heading, Dad. But I appreciate the offer. I honestly do.” Her gaze fell to her plate.
“Where’s Jordan heading?” Great-aunt Irene asked in a loud voice. “I don’t understand.” This was not unusual.
Jordan looked up. “I think I’m trying to sort that all out. Can I get back to you?” And then she offered Aunt Irene a genuine smile, making Molly root for her all the more. In that moment, she decided to jump in, see if she could get everyone back on track.
“Well, I for one am thrilled you’re here. It’s great to share a meal with you.” She raised her glass and met Jordan’s eyes sincerely. “To Jordan.”
The table followed suit and toasted happily, the touchy subject forgotten in light of the true meaning of the evening. Family.
The dinner came to a close, and as Molly shrugged into her jacket at the door, Jordan stopped her. “Hey, you. I just wanted to steal a moment and say thank you.”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
She felt the tug of a smile at her lips. “Maybe a little. Not a big deal.”
Jordan nodded. “How’s the bakeshop?”
Molly felt her spirits dip at the mention. “Uh…we’re hanging in there.” That was a good word for it; she just didn’t know how much longer they could hang. She estimated maybe a month or two until she’d have to close the doors permanently, but that might be a bit optimistic judging from the most recent numbers. She hadn’t told anyone yet, including her three loyal employees. She didn’t have the heart. “Hey, come by tomorrow for coffee. We’re not as cool as Starbucks, but we make a mean muffin. Plus, we can catch up. I may or may not make you pay.”
“Risky. You’re not going to put me to work, are you?”
“I can’t make any promises. How are you with an industrial-sized mixer?”
“I’ve won awards for my mixing.”
Molly studied her. “Impressive.”
Jordan laughed and Molly relaxed, her troubles forgotten for a moment. There was something about being around Jordan again that eased her spirit. Maybe it was that she reminded her of Cassie. But no, on closer examination that simply wasn’t the case.
First of all, they looked nothing alike. Cassie had been blond with pale blue eyes she’d inherited from her father’s side of the family. Jordan, on the other hand, was all her mother. Her eyes were a much deeper blue, which contrasted nicely with her dark-as-night hair that fell just past her shoulders.
Then there was the intense difference in their personalities. Cassie had always been a bit more serious, a take-charge kind of girl others looked up to in admiration. Jordan was much more laid back, a friend to everyone, and always on the lookout for a good time. It was her fly-by-night attitude that used to frustrate Cassie to no end, but Molly had always found it rather endearing. “So tomorrow then?”
“How could I miss it?”
“’Night, Jordy. Don’t get arrested.”
“’Night, Mol. No promises.”
*
Jordan watched through the window as Molly got into her car. She’d expected her to look different somehow, either older or altered by loss. But that simply wasn’t the case. Nothing about Molly said widow. She swallowed hard. If anything, Molly looked more vibrant, more beautiful than ever before. Her light brown hair was now accented with subtle blond highlights. It was a tad shorter, but she’d worn it down, which showed off a few sassy layers that added a whole new hip quality she hadn’t seen on her before. But her chocolate brown eyes still danced.
And thus, she was stuck.
She hadn’t made a plan for how she’d handle the Molly situation and the complicated layers that came with it. She’d meant to, but she’d hoped it would be a nonfactor. It was a schoolgirl crush once upon a time that was fun to reminisce about in her head. That was all.
As the gathering came to a close, Jordan declined rides from everyone who offered and opted to walk home that night instead. Enjoy the stroll. The streets of Applewood were generally pretty quiet after ten. Small towns tended to close up early. The stars gleamed brightly overhead and fresh air filled her lungs. As she passed The Owl Tree, the town’s token bar, music drifted faintly from inside and she could make out a few shadowed figures knocking back a couple with their buddies. She contemplated heading inside for a beer when a voice behind her snagged her attention.
“Jordan Tuscana? Am I hallucinating on the sidewalk or are you actually standing here in front of me?”
She turned and smiled. “Hey, Summer.”
Summer Siller closed the short distance between them on the sidewalk, stopped in front of Jordan, and took her in. “Wow. The water in Chicago is to be commended. Bottled even. You look great.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “Come on.”
“When did you drop back into town, and more importantly, how long are you staying?”
“Today and I’m not sure. A little while, at least. No exact plans on that.”
Summer nodded, still drinking her in blatantly. It was actually kind of amusing. They’d gone to school together. Summer had been two grades ahead, and into boys for only the first half of her time in high school. Kind of like Jordan. “You look good. Even better than the last time I saw you, which says a lot.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Prove it and buy me a drink. We should catch up.” But she didn’t wait for answer and was already tugging Jordan in the direction of the bar.
“Actually, I was just heading home. Long day.”
Summer turned back, her heavily made up face fell dramatically. “If you humiliate me now, I may never recover.”
She held Summer’s gaze and contemplated her next move. A little distraction couldn’t hurt. She could unwind a bit from the day, shoot the breeze with Summer, see who else she might run into from the old days.
She slid Summer an easy smile. “Why not?
Except an hour later, when she had to peel Summer off of her like a fruit roll-up, she could have easily answered that question.
“What did you think of me in high school, Jordan?”
“Uh, quite honestly, you terrified me in high school. I watched you chase after my sister like it was your job.”
Summer laughed. “We were just kids back then. If I had known you were an option, I might have chased after you. Everyone kind of thought you were just trying to be like your sister when it came to dating girls.”
“Yeah, including my parents. Fun times. It took them years to believe this is actually who I am.” Taking a last swallow of her beer, Jordan turned to Summer, whose chin now rested on her shoulder while her hand wandered a bit too boldly inside Jordan’s jacket. “You know what? It’s getting late. I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Summer refocused her attention on Jordan’s ear and purred softly into it. “I live a block from here.”
Any other day, Jordan would have accepted such an obvious invitation, but for whatever reason, tonight just wasn’t the night for it. Summer was nice enough, attractive too. Probably it was the drive, or the head trip being back in Applewood brought on, but she’d much rather just head home and curl up in bed. Forget the way her parents had once again marginalized her career and her life choices.
She caught Summer’s hand and pulled it from its audacious placement on her stomach and kissed the back of it. “Another time. But thank you for the company.” She dropped a twenty on the bar to cover their drinks.
“Sweet dreams, Jordan Tuscana. We’ll talk soon.”
“I bet we do. Thanks for the company.”
Flour Child was fairly peaceful when Jordan rolled in just before eleven that next morning. There was an elderly couple at the table in the corner, but the rest of the place sat empty. Molly was occupied in the back, but after hugging her to pieces, Louise set her up with breakfast and some coffee on the house. It wasn’t long though before Molly appeared, half covered in flour, but smiling as if she’d had the best morning. She easily warmed up a room. “Morning, sleepy head.”
Jordan leaned back in her chair, jumping right past morning greetings to the heart of the matter. “Who made this?” The cinnamon roll she was currently inhaling was unreal, beyond that even. “I need to look this person in the eye.”
Molly beamed and snapped Jordan playfully with the towel she carried. “I did. Who did you think made it?”
She rubbed her arm. “Ouch. Mean. For real?”
“Yes, for real. Why do you doubt me?” She pointed to the little girl on the logo above the counter and then back to herself. “Flour child. Nice to meet you.”
“I remember this place being good, but not this good. Have you sold your soul for baking secrets? Is that what’s happened here?”
Molly slid into the chair across from her and rubbed the back of her neck. She’d probably been up since o’dark thirty, which made Jordan feel a little sheepish for the nine hours she’d just stolen. “That would be a better story, but no. The truth is that I’ve been experimenting a bit. Tweaking some of our older recipes and developing a few new ones. With all the Starbucks popping up like Whack-a-mole, we have to step up our game, and even that hasn’t been enough. When the newest store opened right at the edge of town, our morning traffic took a real hit. Take a look around.”
Jordan did and a sinking feeling came over her at the implication. Only the one other table was occupied. Her voice was quiet. “So are you in trouble?”
“We’ll be all right.” Molly smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Jordan sensed that wasn’t the whole truth. While she was worried, this didn’t seem like the moment to push. Instead, she changed the subject.
“How’s the new house working out?”
“Well, it’s not exactly new, which is kind of the problem. Turns out ‘charming older house’ is actually code for ‘hope you like home repairs.’ The newest casualties are the shutters. It’s quite tragic.”
Jordan quirked an eyebrow.
“I had a jumper.”
“No.”
“Yes, and don’t look so horrified. Don’t think I don’t know when you’re making fun of me. I think I taught you how.”
Jordan laughed. “I forgot that part.” A pause. “I could fix it for you, you know, if I thought you’d be eternally grateful. Maybe we could negotiate a back alley cinnamon roll agreement of sorts.”
Molly studied her curiously. “Back alley cinnamon rolls I can do, but since when do you know anything about home repair?”
Jordan raised her shoulder and let it drop. “You can learn a lot on a movie set. One of the perks.”
“Apparently. But I don’t want to pull you from your much-needed R and R. I thought that was kind of the point of your whole sabbatical back here.”
“Yeah, among other things. But it’s either help you with your tragic shutters or shuffle papers for the dueling doctors at the clinic. I need to stay busy, and I’m thinking the shutter thing sounds pretty good. Plus, I enjoy the sun time. I look good in a tan.”
“Done. Hired. In return, all the baked goods you can eat.”
“So incredibly dangerous.”
“My middle name.” They shook on it and Molly stood. “Maybe day after tomorrow? In the afternoon?”
“Cool. I’ll get the address from my parents.”
Molly headed back to work and Jordan lingered, nursing the last of her coffee. She felt lighter somehow and she thought she knew why. Life as she knew it had a way of changing quickly. She rarely worked in the same place from day to day, let alone the same city. Producers, directors, budgets, and even the women she dated came and went. It was nice to know, however, that some things
didn’t
change. Molly was still the same kindhearted, whimsical girl she was when Jordan was nine years old and her family first moved to town.
Molly and her father had lived several houses down for their growing up years. She remembered the day they’d first met vividly. She’d lost control of her soccer ball and chased it down the sloping street, losing ground as she ran. There’d been a teenager in a driveway washing a car. She’d stepped ahead of the ball just in time, stopping its progress. The girl popped it into her hands with her foot, smiled widely, and handed the ball back to Jordan.
“I think you lost this.”
Jordan, still breathless from her pursuit, grinned up at the girl with the light brown ponytail and halter top. “Thanks. Do you live here?”
“I do. This is my house. And I’m guessing you must be the new neighbor I saw moving in.”
Jordan nodded eagerly. “We got here yesterday from California. My name is Jordan. What’s yours?”
“Molly. Nice to meet you, Jordan from California. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Take it easy on that ball, okay?” She waved once and went back to washing the car. But Jordan wasn’t quite ready to leave her new friend. So far in Applewood, she’d yet to lay eyes on anyone younger than her parents.
“Hey, um…need any help?”
Molly considered the offer, then reached into the bucket and tossed an extra sponge her way, dribbling water across the driveway and a little onto Jordan. “You can take the right side if you want.”
She dropped the ball in the grass and eagerly went to work on making the blue Volvo shine. For whatever reason, she wanted to impress Molly, and it seemed to work.
Once they finished drying, Molly walked around the car and stood beside her. “Wow. Nice job, kiddo. I’m guessing you’ve done this before.”
“I help my dad sometimes. He’s a doctor.”
“Cool.”
“So’s my mom. I might be too one day.”
Molly nodded. “Ambitious. I’m gonna have some lemonade. Want a glass? You’ve earned it.”