Authors: Melissa Brayden
Her father slid her an inquisitive look. “So how are things with Molly these days? You two do much talking since you’ve been back?”
“A little. She seems okay. Why do you ask?
He grabbed for a chip. “Your mother and I worry for her sometimes. She has a lot on her plate with her father’s declining health and managing the bakery all by herself. She’s there at five a.m. each morning and doesn’t leave sometimes until well past dinnertime. She doesn’t let us help enough, and for Cassie’s sake, we should. We should all be watching out for Molly.”
Jordan nodded and contemplated telling her father about the financial trouble at Flour Child, but decided that Molly had confided in her alone. She should respect that. “I guess I didn’t realize she pulled so many hours. But I think she’s managing.” However, as soon as the words left her mouth, she knew she wasn’t at all convinced.
“And what about you? When does the studio need you back in the saddle? Or have you decided to listen to reason and leave that world behind?”
It was no secret that her father found the entertainment industry frivolous in comparison to the rest of the family’s noble work. She was the family black sheep, and she was used to her part. But for whatever reason, she needed to be honest with him in this moment. And she needed for him to understand.
She bit the bullet and recounted the details of her less than dignified dismissal from the set the week prior. When she finished, she met her father’s eyes, and any hope of understanding or compassion on his part left her immediately. Instead, she only saw disappointment.
And, as always, it was crushing.
“That’s no way to conduct yourself, Jordana.” He shook his head in disapproval. “That’s not how you were brought up.”
“Yes, sir. I know. I lost my temper and had a momentary lapse.”
“And look what it’s cost you. If I have a momentary lapse when working on an important case, someone could lose his or her life. There’s no room for that kind of behavior if you want to succeed in life. Time for you to grow up, Jordan. I don’t want to have to worry about you so much.”
She nodded. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
They finished eating in silence before he went back to work. But the air was thick with tension. She put in two more hours in the reception area before packing it in. Her morale was a little low, but she ordered herself to snap out of it as she headed out into the drizzly afternoon. So she was still disappointing her father, she just suffered through it a little quieter these days. Maybe she had grown up.
*
Jordan watched Molly anxiously from the corner booth as she pulled down the shades and flipped the Open sign to Closed. “Are you going to tell me how it went last night or make me sit here and wonder? The suspense is too much. I may die.” It was close to five and that meant closing time at Flour Child.
Molly shot her a look. “Trust me. You won’t die.”
Jordan sighed dramatically, but truth be told, she felt better hanging out at the bakeshop. It had been a good move to swing by after work. Something about the place was cheerful and light and pulled her out of the mood she’d been in since lunch with her father. Or maybe it was just spending time with Molly, who was strangely very tight-lipped about the whole evening prior. Try as she might, Jordan hadn’t been able to gain much ground in the way of sordid details regarding her blind date. She did, however, manage to score a fluffy blueberry muffin, which she’d polished off quicker than was probably polite. Lucky for her she had a great metabolism or she’d be in real trouble.
“Good night, all.” Louise puttered by on her way home for the day. “I’d stay and chat, but I gotta make it to my place before
Jeopardy
starts. Alex Trebek is my sweet boyfriend.”
Jordan shook her head. “You’re out of his league, Louise.”
Touched, Louise grinned and moved to Jordan, squeezed both of her cheeks, and then pulled her into a great big hug. “I knew I missed you. You’re too adorable for words and you know how to make an old lady feel good. Come by tomorrow and I’ll set you up with my special cinnamon coffee. I don’t make that for many people.” She squeezed Jordan’s cheek again and headed for the door.
“You’re on.”
Molly rolled her eyes but was smiling as she went back to work, refilling the sugar dispensers one at a time.
Once they were alone, Jordan turned back to Molly. “Please tell me.” She then offered her most hope-filled expression complete with wide eyes and a pouty mouth, which earned her a laugh from Molly. Jackpot.
“You know what? It was bad. Let’s just leave it there.”
Oh, that was entirely too little information. Jordan pressed on. “Okay, I can work with bad. Let’s dissect a bit, shall we? Are we talking we-just-didn’t-click-at-all bad? Or I-might-need-to-take-out-a-restraining-order bad?”
Molly sighed and sank into the booth across from Jordan. “It was more like you-have-a-gambling-problem-and-you’re-not-taking-me-down-with-you horrible.”
Jordan’s mouth fell open. “Whoa. You got that from a first date?”
“You have no idea.”
Jordan reached across the table and covered Molly’s hand, joking now aside. “I know you were hoping it would be painless. I’m sorry it wasn’t.” Molly nodded, and when she looked back at her with those caramel brown eyes, Jordan felt herself melt a little, an uncomfortable pulling now present in her stomach.
And here we go…
“It’s not that. It’s just…I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this. The whole dating thing. I don’t have the thick skin it seems to require, and let’s be honest; I’m too old to try desperately to impress someone I’ve never met.”
“Agreed. You’re well into elderly. I know that when I hit my early thirties, I plan to just pack it in immediately. In bed by eight each night. No exceptions.”
Molly shook her head, glaring. “It’s different for you and you know it. You’ve got this presence, this effortless charisma. And then there’s the fact that you’re just, well, gorgeous, which is just not fair. The rest of us have to try, Jordan. Cut me some slack when I say that I don’t know if I’m up for it.”
Jordan let her mouth fall open. “You think I’m gorgeous?”
“Focus, please; we’re talking about me.”
“Selfish, but okay.” Jordan sat up a little straighter, on a mission now. “I’m afraid it’s time to get serious. Truth or dare.”
Molly shook her head. “Uh-uh. We’re not doing this.”
“We are.” Jordan knew when to use the big guns, and this was one of those times. Truth or Dare was the game Molly had used to get Jordan to open up to her when she was young, knowing full well that at the time Jordan thought of it as a sophisticated, older kids game and would therefore honor the rules reverently. Over the years, it developed into a thing they did, which had led to some very valuable conversations. The dare option was rarely utilized, however. It was just an unspoken understanding between them. Truth or Dare was about being honest with each other at all costs.
Molly’s voice was quiet when she answered obligatorily. “Truth.”
“Do you believe your life is over at thirty-three?”
She was silent and seemed to contemplate the question. “No.”
“Do you deserve to be happy?”
The words must have affected Molly as her eyes filled slightly. She nodded. “I think so.” And then more firmly, “Yes. I do”
“And doesn’t it help to say it out loud?”
Molly relaxed back into the booth, the tiniest of smiles hinted at on her lips. “Surprisingly, it does.”
Jordan brushed her hands together quickly. “Then my work here is done. I’ll send you my bill.”
Molly shook her head slightly. “Why does everything seem easier when you’re around?”
It was a compliment and a commentary on the ease of their relationship. In this moment, she felt very connected to Molly, and the smile faded gradually from her face as she answered. “I don’t know.”
Molly held her gaze and the mood shifted. “Me neither.”
There was a silence that hung in the air between them. Enough of one to make Jordan feel the need to step in and save them from the somehow weighted moment. “You know, rather than dissect the wonder that is me, can we talk about the rumor I heard at the clinic this morning?”
Her cavalier tone broke the spell, and Molly was again all smiles as she leaned in, resting her adorable chin on her fist. “If we must. What have you heard?”
“Jackson, the dueling doctors’ seventeen-year-old errand boy, said that next Saturday happens to be Applewood’s annual April Showers Festival. What say you?”
“I can confirm said rumor.”
Jordan felt herself light up from the inside out as she scooted to the edge of her seat in excitement. “Listen, I love this festival. This festival is the stuff small towns are made of. It takes me straight back to when I was a kid. We have to go. Say we can. I want to ride the Ferris wheel.”
Molly laughed. “I like it when you get all smiley like this. We can definitely go. But a) I hate the Ferris wheel and you know it, and b) you’ll have to entertain yourself, I’m afraid. Or find some unassuming girl to fawn all over you per usual, as I will be working at the Flour Child booth like a good businesswoman should.”
“Lame. But if you insist, I guess I can be big about this. What will you be selling this year?”
“That’s just it. This is our chance to debut something noteworthy to a large crowd. People from all over come to this festival. It needs to be something good. Something new that could garner us some attention, and by attention, I mean cash.” An idea sparked behind Molly’s eyes. “You know what? Can I get your opinion on something?” But she didn’t wait for an answer and was already up and dashing behind the counter. Jordan watched after her curiously when she returned just a moment later carrying a small plate with a solitary chocolate truffle in the middle.
“Taste this.”
“Well, if you twist my arm.” Jordan lifted the chocolate, took a small bite, and allowed the flavors to settle. And then they did. “Wow. It’s good, Molly. Are there more?” She threw an inquisitive glance behind her to the kitchen.
Molly gave her a long look. “But not perfect. I need it to be perfect and it’s missing something. What is it missing?”
Jordan contemplated the question. “You might be asking the wrong person. I pretty much think everything you feed me is what heaven must taste like.”
“Nice of you, but dig a little deeper and I’m betting you could help me figure this out. You have the outsider’s perspective that I desperately need right now. Close your eyes and open your mouth.” With an amused grin, she did so, and the last piece of the truffle was placed delicately on her tongue. She let the chocolate slowly dissolve in her mouth while listening to Molly’s determined and kind of sexy voice speaking in a slow, even tone. “Now if you could add one thing, one quality, one
ingredient
that would make your mouth water…make you
crave
just a little bit more, what would it be?”
Jordan swallowed hard, fighting against the direction her thoughts were trying to lead her. Shaking herself out of it, she stumbled upon her answer. “Peanut butter?” It came out of her mouth before she’d even fully processed the thought. But there it was. She opened her eyes. “I pretty much like everything better with peanut butter.”
Molly sat hard. “Huh. Okay, that’s interesting. So you’re thinking savory.” She was lost in concentration and Jordan watched as she bit her bottom lip in a move that was so alluring she had to glance away momentarily. What exactly was happening to her here? Whatever it was, it was powerful.
Finally, Molly brushed the hair off of her forehead and caught Jordan’s gaze. “You know something? It could actually work. But it wouldn’t have to be a lot, just a hint of peanut butter so it doesn’t overwhelm, but rather accentuates.” There was a determination in her stare now and she was off, scurrying behind the counter, clearly in project mode and excited about it. “If this works, I owe you big time,” she called over her shoulder.
“I like the sound of that.”
And then from the recesses of the kitchen, “Come by the house whenever you’re free. The shutters miss you. Plus, I hear there’s complimentary lemonade.”
“I can only hope the rumors are true,” she called back.
Left alone in the cozy bakeshop, Jordan let out a slow exhale. Alone was good. It was safe. She could do alone.
*
It was close to midnight by the time they were ready. Her third batch of the night. Molly stared at the tiny tray of individual chocolates and sent up a small prayer that this would be the time she got it right. “A little help here, Cas?” she whispered up to the air around her.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly brought a truffle to her lips and took a bite. And all at once, she knew.
This was it.
After weeks of tweaking and adjusting, tasting and accounting, she’d come up with the perfect balance of flavors. Her heart sped up and she raised one victorious fist in the air. There was no one there to see it, but she celebrated with her own silent happy dance through the expanse of the small kitchen. And she didn’t just dance. She got down. She turned it out. She was a rock star of the kitchen in the crunkest sense, but that wasn’t the point. This breakthrough was huge. Monumental. And it wasn’t just about creating a new menu item to grace the display case; this was about finding a signature item that could put Flour Child on the confectionary map. This was about saving the store, her family’s legacy, and for the first time in a long time, she thought she stood a chance at doing just that.
With the right marketing, that is.
She closed her eyes and sent a silent “thank you” Cassie’s way. But then she paused in recognition. Because it wasn’t Cassie who was responsible for the breakthrough, was it?
Jordan was the one who’d sent her down the path to success, and she was the one Molly should be thanking.
And she would.
In that moment, the hour late and her guard completely down, her thoughts floated to their exchange earlier. The image of Jordan smiling and tasting the chocolate bubbled to the surface, and a jolt moved through her. A powerful hit of something she didn’t care to name. Interesting. Where had that come from? It was an odd and very unexpected reaction that she refused to analyze any further.