by Linda Apple
Cold wind slapped my face the second I stepped outside. Soup at Molly’s was a good decision after all. Even so, I still wished she’d cave and copy the tearoom’s orange roll recipe.
The chalkboard sign by her door had the soup of the day as Chicken Pot Pie. Warm, yummy, comfort food for a chilly day. Yes ma’am, I’ll take it.
The bell jingled against the glass when I walked through the doorway. The aromas of bread baking, coffee brewing, savory roasting chicken, and sautéed vegetables cradled my freezing senses. As usual the place was packed and a cacophony of voices competed with Ol’ Blue Eyes who crooned over the sound system. It looked as if I’d have to get my order to go, but a couple stood to leave. Thank goodness. I wasn’t ready to do battle with Vince over my column just yet.
I plopped my purse in the chair and turned to push my way to the counter and place my order when Molly hurried over with a rag in hand.
“Thank you, Mother Nature, for this blessed cold day.” She grasped the dirty dishes with one hand and wiped the table with the other. “What’ll you have?”
“Table service? That’s a first. I’ll have the soup of course. Have you eaten?”
“No, so I think I’ll join you. Be back in a jiff.” Molly watched me through alert eyes. “And I have a surprise for you.”
“What?”
“Never you mind.”
Well, that gave me something to think about. It had to be about Stan. I’d bet my bottom dollar they were engaged. That’d explain the sparkle. Molly’s getting married. What a hoot! And she thought I wouldn’t have it figured out by the time she got back with our lunch. I spied her coming from the kitchen with a tray holding our soup and something else.
With a flourish Molly slapped a saucer in front of me. On it was a huge, fluffy, orange roll. “Surprise.”
“Well, I’ll be.”
Plopping down across from me, she leaned over. “And just wait until you taste it.”
“Wait? Me? Never.” It was hard for me to follow my own rules for the proper consumption of an orange roll, but I held fast. I peeled off the outside crunchy layer and took a bite. Tangy orange flavor burst in my mouth. “Oh my Lord in heaven, Molly Kate.” Euphoria. I savored the sweet morsel.
Molly’s gaze held fast as she watched me eat. “Just wait till you get to the center.”
Normally, this process could not be rushed, but this time I made an exception. Unrolling to the center, I held up the tender pastry soaked with butter and orange icing and popped it in my mouth. Bliss exploded on my taste buds making me salivate and my jaws ache. It was sooooo good. I couldn’t help but think about Nathan Wolfe’s suggestion in his email about getting laid. This was far better than any sex I have ever had. Of course, I wouldn’t tell him that, because I knew what his answer would be.
“Now you’ve gone and done it, Molly girl. I’ve eaten dessert before lunch. I’ll want dessert again.”
“I know, so that is why I brought you another one. I just couldn’t wait to see what you thought.” She waited. “Well? What do you think?”
“Magnolia’s cannot hold a candle to yours. Theirs tastes like vending machine pastries compared to this.”
Molly slapped the table with both hands. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” She slid a bowl of chicken potpie soup across the table.
“I had my granddaughter buy a half dozen. Then Stan and I ate every one trying to break down their recipe and improve on it.”
“Stan? He was here? Why didn’t you say anything? He bakes?”
“No, I went to his place. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you girls having a conniption. And yes, he’s a fabulous cook.”
“So, what’s up with him not coming here? You hiding him? Is he that ugly?” Steam rose from the soup in my spoon. I blew it and eased it into my mouth. Oh. My. Goodness. Good thing the soup was hot, or I’d be lapping it out of the bowl like a starving dog.
“No. He’s not ugly. I think he’s cute. He’ll be at my house next week for Thanksgiving. Would you like to join us?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I gave up being careful and burned my tongue. “What can I bring?”
“Martini makings?”
“That I’ve got.” I slurped up the last of my soup and eyed the orange roll. My stomach cried, “No!” but my mouth said, “Go for it.”
Molly stood. “I want coffee with my roll. How about you.”
“Sounds great.”
Well, well, well, we finally get to meet Stan. He had no idea Molly Kate came with three friends in the package. And if he dared hurt her, he’d have all of us on him like wet leaves. As far as we could help it, she wouldn’t wind up like the women in those pitiful emails that filled my box.
Call me paranoid, but I had a suspicion he wanted to ditch his farm, move to the city, and suck off her. After all, Molly was a successful businesswoman.
I decided to call a secret meeting with Avalee and Jema. There was no way on God’s green earth I was going to let Molly Kate be crushed. Mr. Stan Montgomery was in for the interrogation of his life.
After lunch I strolled back to work in no hurry to see Vince. Just as I expected, when I passed his office he called, “Lexi? Come in here.”
“All right.” I fell into the chair in front of him with a cup of hazelnut coffee fixed the way he like it. “Here ya go. Figured you might need it.”
He took it and said, “New York Times? Someone from the New York Times read your column? Thanks for the coffee by the way.”
Well, that wasn’t the reaction I expected, but hey, I’d take it. “Nathan Wolfe.”
“Nat…” He jumped up and braced himself on the desk. “No. Nathan Wolfe? Are you serious?”
“Oh, he’s nothing special. Just a reporter.”
“Are you kidding me? Do you watch CNN? FOX? MSNBC? Even the BBC for crying out loud?”
“Nope.”
“He’s an investigative correspondent. I see him interviewed on television all the time. All over the freakin’ world.”
He would die if he knew what I’d written to his news rock star. His ecstatic ramblings hit my ears like the waw-waw-voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher until he said, “I’m going to call him right now.”
Like an alarmed white-tailed deer, I jumped up and seized his hand. “No.” Nailing him with the most ferocious look I could muster I demanded, “Do not call him.”
Vince sank back into his chair and tented his fingers. “Why not? What did you do, Lexi? Hmmm?”
Lord, I needed a drink. “Let’s just say we have a little dispute going on at the moment.”
“Dispute?”
Casting around for a way to put a positive light on it I blurted out, “He wanted to sleep with me, and I refused.”
“Sleep with you?” His frown formed a little crisscross on his brow. “Really?”
His incredulous look flew all over me. “What? You wouldn’t want to have sex with me?”
His face flushed merlot. I stood and walked to the door. Before leaving I turned and smiled. “Thought so.”
As soon as I got home that evening I went to the all the news websites and searched Nathan Wolfe. After that Whine Wednesday when the girls told me Nathan was a reporter and was sometimes on those twenty-four hour talking head shows, I figured he was fairly well known. But I felt confident, at least I hoped—I prayed—he wasn’t the rock star Vince blathered on about.
I was wrong. Nathan Wolfe owned the Internet. Oh no, oh no, oh no, this whole thing is getting out of hand. I picked up the phone and dialed Avalee.
“Hello?”
“Avalee? I’m going to kill you. Do you hear me? Kill you.”
“Lexi? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Nathan Wolfe.”
“What about him?”
“I made an absolute fool of myself with someone who everyone in the world knows about except me.”
“You found out about him a long time ago. Why are you so upset now?�
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“I don’t watch the news. Not even since you showed us his picture. I had NO IDEA he was a news god. And here I have insulted him in every way possible.”
“Good. He needs humbling.”
“But not by me. I’ve made a complete idiot of myself.”
“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, he has a wicked sense of humor.”
“Whatever. I’m going to make a strong martini. Wanna join me?”
“Be over in a sec.”
I snatched the Goose out of the freezer and shook up a couple. The doorbell rang and Avalee walked in with a disturbing smile. “What?”
“Let’s finish our martinis before I tell you.”
“No. What? Tell me now.”
“Nathan is coming to Moonlight.”
I took a slug. “When?”
“Next Monday.”
I finished my drink and strode to the bar and made another.
Chapter 16
MOLLY
Plans
Planning a Thanksgiving meal had never been so hard. I had no idea what Stan liked. I remembered my first Thanksgiving as Randy’s new wife. I was nervous then, too, but at least I knew his favorite foods.
Gypsy jumped onto the windowsill by my kitchen table and waited expectantly for a rubdown. I ran my fingers through her silky, black fur. “Well, girl. What do you think? Traditional? Or something crazy and unexpected?” She blinked, lowered on the sill folding her paws under her and purred. “Just as I thought. Traditional.”
First I needed a list. I picked up my pen and jotted down the names of all who would be here. Stan, me, Carli and Jeff, Lacey and Cherrell, and Lexi. Maybe one year his sons and their families would join us.
“Just listen to me, Gypsy.” I stroked her back. “Here I am already planning a future with Stan, and he hasn’t even asked me to marry him.”
The thought of marrying at my age sent a little thrill through me. Planning a wedding would be such fun now that I’m old enough to have some sense. I felt a silly smile spread on my face.
Then the voice of reason surfaced, and my smile faded. What if he did ask? Would he sell the farm and move here? Would he expect me to sell my business and leave Moonlight? I loved my home. I loved Moonlight. I built my business from a catering service to a successful bakery/restaurant. Surely he wouldn’t expect me to move. Then again, he could be thinking I wouldn’t expect that of him. All the dancing hearts and fluttering butterflies disappeared from my mind. Reality set in.
The phone rang and jerked me to the present. Gypsy lifted her head and stared as if to say, “Well? Are you going to get that? The ringing is disturbing my nap.” So as her dutiful staff member, I answered. The screen showed Lexi’s name.
“Hi Lex. What’s up?”
“Hey. Listen, me and the girls want to have a little get together when Stan comes. You know, welcome him back, catch up and all of that. When will he be here?”
“This afternoon.”
“How about tomorrow evening then?”
“How nice. Tomorrow it is. What can I bring?”
“Stan. Nothing else. The girls and I will handle everything.”
Something in her voice...
“Why am I feeling uncomfortable right now?”
“Oh, go pet your cat. You’ll feel better. Bye now.” The line went dead. I reached over and scratched behind Gypsy’s ear. But I didn’t feel better.
As the time drew nearer for Stan to arrive, I could hardly contain my nerves. He simply had to rekindle some fond feelings for his old hometown and for this house. I just didn’t think I could leave it.
A car door slammed, and I hurried to the window. Stan pulled a suitcase from the trunk. I checked my reflection in the living room mirror one more time before opening the door.
“Hi Stan, need any help?” I walked to the porch steps.
He grinned at me while shutting the trunk. “Nope. I got it.” In no time he closed the distance between us. “Man, it’s good to see you again.” He took me in is arms and laid one on me.
Lord have mercy, what if Miss Cladie sees, or Lexi, or, or...oh my...I wrapped my arms around him and gave in to the moment. After our lovely lip-lock, I pushed back and said, “Goodness, what a greeting.”
Stan picked up his suitcase and held the door open for me, “Just missed you, that’s all.”
Gypsy moseyed over and gave him a sniff, lifted her paw, and jerked back. Stan laughed. “Yes, Gypsy, that’s dog you smell. Her name is Kricket.”
Without meowing a word, she turned tail and trotted out. “I can see she’s not impressed.” He lifted his eyebrow. “I’m not making a good first impression, I’m afraid. Good thing I left Krik with friends.”
“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’ll make you staff soon enough. Come on. You probably want to freshen up.” I led him up the stairs to the guest room. “Here’s your room. The bathroom is through the door on the left.”
“Looks great.” He threw his suitcase on the bed, sat down, and pulled me onto his lap. “Molly Kate, I must confess I’m crazy about you.” He gazed at me with his aqua eyes then leaned over and brushed his lips across mine. The tickle felt electric. I wanted more, and honey, I took it. Believe me, Stan gave it right back. What seemed like hours later, we came up for air.
“Whoa. Whew.” I stood. “Wasn’t expecting that.”
He took my hands in his. “Did I tell you how much I’ve been missing you?”
“And I’ve missed you, too.” I caressed his face. “A lot.” Taking him by the hand, I pulled him toward the door. “How about a drink?”
“Sounds good. But first...” He enveloped me, and once again we were lost in an urgent fog of desire. At this rate, supper would never be finished. Which was all right by me.
When we finally made it to the kitchen, Stan insisted on helping. I had to admit, it felt good having a man cooking with me. Sipping wine, peeling potatoes, stealing a kiss when I passed by. I’d forgotten how amazing small talk could be and the simple pleasure of laughing together. I loved having someone around who could say more than meow.
After eating, we left the dishes and sat on the floor in front of the fire. I leaned against him and relished the heat of his body. It had been a long time since I’d felt this content.
Stan kissed behind my ear and said, “Supper was delicious.” The warmth from his breath sent chills though me.
“Not bad for a chubby old woman. Huh?”
“You are beautiful, Miz Molly Kate Fairchild. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Not even my size eighteen pants?”
“Well.” Stan leaned close. “The only thing I would change is they would be on the floor.” He kissed me and then whispered, “I love every inch of you.”
“Love?”
“Yes. Love.” He kissed me again and said, “How about more wine?”
I nodded and started to stand. He put his hand out. “No, I’ll get it. You’ve worked hard enough. Enjoy the fire.”
“Thank you.” Ah-mazing. Someone waiting on me for a change. Gypsy jumped in my lap and bumped my nose with hers. “Well, Miss Priss. What do you think?” She curled into a ball on my lap, turned on her purr, and proceeded to clean her paws.
Stan padded back into the living room and handed me a flute of champagne.
I took the glass. “Goodness, where did this come from?”
“I brought it to celebrate.”
“Celebrate? What?”
“Us.” He eased beside me and caressed Gypsy’s throat. Her purr decibel increased dramatically. I noticed something glittering on his forefinger. I picked his hand up and looked. A diamond solitaire. A huge diamond solitaire. I met his eyes in wonderment.
“Molly Kate, I don’t want to live one more hour without you.” He slid the ring off and took my hand. “Would you consent to be my wife...again?”
There were so many questions, so many things to think about, work out, so many possible problems... “Yes. Yes!”
He slid the rin
g on the fourth finger of my left hand and then kissed me. We toasted each other, tippled our champagne, and then he kissed me again. Disgusted, Gypsy charged off into the kitchen.
“I love you, Molly Kate. We were meant to be together. Our coming together again is nothing short of divine intervention.”
“I love you, too.” Admiring his gentle expression and soft smile, I said, “Isn’t it funny? We are finishing what we started.” Then, at the worst possible time, the practical Molly emerged. I sat back. “But how? How are we going to make this work? Sell the farm? I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t sell the bakery.”
He put his finger to my lips. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We will work something out.” He set his glass down. “But whatever we do, you must know I am not the type of man who expects his wife to be the wage earner or only provider in the family. I am well-capable of taking care of you.”
Stan Montgomery will never know how much I appreciated his statement. I pulled him close and murmured, “You are every girl’s dream and to think, you are all mine. Stan Montgomery, you are my prince.”
“And you, dear lady, are my princess.”
And you know what? I felt like one.
The next morning, for the first time in years, I didn’t wake to a rough tongue on my cheek, but to the aroma of coffee and a soft kiss. I rose up and tried to focus.
“Morning Glory.”
“Aw, Stan. How sweet.” I gratefully took the coffee wishing I could have at least combed my hair. “Take a good look now. This face and body is what you will be waking up to every morning.”
“Baby, we are going to have to have an agreement starting right now.”
I blew the steam from my cup and took a sip. “What’s that?”
“You are going to have to stop talking about my lady that way. You are not fat, ugly, or undesirable in any way. I am not the kind of man who is suckered by sight. I fall in love with what will last, and that is who you are on the inside. And darling, I hit the jackpot. You are beautiful, and you have a beautiful soul.” He patted his belly. “I just hope you feel the same way about this fat, old, bald man.”