Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JOIN ME ON THE EDGE
Novels by Carol Maloney Scott
NOBODY TELLS LIA ANYTHING
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Something Molly Can’t See
Carol Maloney Scott
Something Molly Can’t See
Copyright © Carol Maloney Scott 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permission requests, please contact the publisher.
Formatting by Wild Seas Formatting
http://carolmaloneyscott.com
For
Daisy and Benny
My sweet, furry assistants
CHAPTER ONE
“Girls, you better get your butts down here or I am tossing your phones in the trash compactor!”
Of course, these are empty threats as I will be the one to replace the ground up phones, and the trash compactor, when the apartment handyman sees what I did to the poor innocent kitchen appliance.
However, I have known Pete for many years, so maybe he’d cut me a deal. And I know our sweet little apartment complex owner, Lia, would understand with all the stress I’m under lately.
I glance at the clock on my stove and see that I am going to now be late because I have to drive the princesses to school. My mother was right when she said I shouldn’t indulge their every whim and make them walk to school like she did in the old days, uphill both ways, in the snow with no shoes.
I check my tote bag to make sure I have everything for my whole day. Sketches for my new doll line, check. Lunch, check. Uniform for my waitressing shift, check. Notes on the new product packaging, check. Grocery shopping list, check.
If it sounds like I have too much going on based on the contents of that bag, you don’t know the half of it yet.
“Mooooom, Magnolia stole my lip gloss and it’s my favorite cherry kind!”
I sigh and drop my bag and keys by the front door.
“Zinnia Petal and Magnolia Blossom, you get down here right now!”
Yes, I like flowers.
My youngest, twelve-year-old Zinnia appears at the top of the stairs.
“It’s not fair! She can wear real makeup. All I have is my stupid baby makeup, but at least my lips can look shiny.”
My darling girl has her arms folded in a defiant pose and her straight light hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. She still has a round face and the slightest hint of baby fat. It hurts my ovaries when I think of her…well…becoming a woman with active ovaries.
“Zin, we don’t have time for this, baby. Magnolia, let your sister have her lip gloss. Take one of my lipsticks if you want somethin’ new. And hurry the heck up!”
Zinnia skips back down the hall to enforce my declaration with her big sister, and they both come down, but not before another excruciating sixty seconds.
Zinnia is first with her unicorn backpack decorated with kitten and puppy stickers, followed by her older sister with her much cooler bag, decorated with band logos and snarky sayings and emojis.
“Magnolia, really? That’s the color you picked?”
She’s sporting green lipstick that I only bought for a Halloween costume last year.
She rolls her eyes and says, “You said I could pick a lipstick. Do you want me to go back up and pick a different one, because I won’t cry if I miss the beginning of first period.”
I would count to ten in my head to keep from blowing up, but I don’t have the luxury of that kind of time.
“Get in the car with your green lips, then.”
I point outside and Magnolia purses her emerald pout and saunters out the door.
I notice that since she turned fifteen a couple of weeks ago, her hips wiggle more than they did before Christmas vacation. My New Year’s baby has always been a sass puss, but this is something else.
Note to self—time for a serious sex talk with my oldest.
Yep, the fun times never end.
As I shoo Zinnia out the door, I hear her taunting her sister for having frog lips.
Dear Lord, give me strength.
As if I don’t have enough problems, my damn phone has rung about five times in a row. I throw everything in the trunk of my car and try to ignore the daily fight over who gets the front seat. If I had more time (I don’t), I would make up a preferred seating calendar and tape it to the inside of the car.
I fish my phone out of my coat pocket and see that Lia has called three times and sent two texts.
“Hey, the new accounting guy is here. Thought I’d introduce you two before your meeting. Are you on your way?”
Shoot, the meeting started about ten minutes ago. Well, not really since I’m not there. Her next text is a question mark and a sad emoji.
I drop my phone on the pavement and smack the hood of the car with my open palm. Oww, that hurt!
I look up and my neighbor, Tucker Swanson, is watching me.
He and his brother live in the apartment next to mine. Well, they used to live in the same one, until his brother, Dawson, moved into his girlfriend Emma’s apartment, one door over.
I hang my head in shame for my outburst. I’m glad the kids are in the car. However, I have known the Swanson brothers since they were little tykes. I babysat them for a good number of years. You would think that would have prepared me for the challenges of single motherhood.
Tucker walks over with a slight smile, as if he is amused by my temper tantrum, but not brave enough to assume it’s over.
“Hey, Moll. You okay?”
The keys to his Swanson Brothers Auto Repair Shop are in one hand, and a huge mug of coffee is in the other. In his plaid work shirt pocket, a pack of cigarettes peeks out. His hair is still wet from the shower and his stubble is barely there.
It’s odd that his appearance is noteworthy this morning, but now that I think of it, I haven’t talked to Tucker much in a long time. His brother is the friendly one and Tuck tends to keep to himself.
Except at the New Year’s Eve party.
“I’m okay. Just running insanely late. Lia hired a new accountant down at the doll plant and I was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago.”
I bite my lip as Tucker peers into the windows, and waves at the girls.
“And you have to bring the princesses to school, too. Right?”
I sigh and say, “Yes, we really need to get up earlier, but it’s so hard…anyway, I have to go.”
As I’m rambling, Tucker opens the car door and tells the girls to hop in his truck. Before I get a chance to protest, he grabs my bag and walks
me by the elbow to his truck.
Before the girls can start their front seat argument, Tucker quietly escorts me to the front passenger side and opens the door for me. I slip in and take a deep breath.
The girls climb in the back and Tucker says, “Okay ladies, your stops are on the way to the shop. I am dropping your mama off first.”
He peers at my daughters in the rearview mirror and I can’t believe how they both nod and smile. Maybe a hot chauffeur would be a good idea for them.
No, on second thought, Magnolia is especially getting too old for that to be safe.
I start my internal scolding—what kind of a mother would want her daughters to be quiet because they’re lusting after a man, when said man says, “So, how are things with the dolls? When do you think you’ll start production?”
“I hope soon because waitressing at the diner and trying to get this business off the ground is killing me.”
“You work too hard, Molly. You need to let loose once in a while.” He winks at me and I feel my cheeks get hot.
This is so stupid. This is little Tucker Swanson, the bratty boy who teased me mercilessly for years, and then grew into a sullen young man who was always around, but who kept to himself.
At least as far as I was concerned.
I shift in my seat and glance at the back seat. Magnolia has her headphones in her ears and Zinnia is playing her game with the puppies on her phone.
“I actually do let loose once in a while; I’ll have you know.” I pull up the dating app on my phone and show it to Tucker while we are stopped at a light.
“Huh, you sure you should be doin’ that? Meeting strangers and all? A woman like you shouldn’t need a datin’ site to find a man.”
I’m grateful for the light turning green so he stops staring at me. When did Tucker develop a smolder? I’ve always thought of him as a grouchy loner. It’s like since he’s been living alone, he’s changed.
Or maybe I am just noticing him more, especially since the New Year’s Eve party. It’s been a couple of weeks and I was hoping the awkwardness would subside, but for me it hasn’t.
“I’m not saying that I need to do it. But I’m tryin’, is all.”
I look over my shoulder again, even though my ‘Mom’s eyes in the back of the head’ tell me that the girls are oblivious to our conversation.
I lower my voice and say, “Since Ray left, I haven’t gotten out much, you’re right. I’ve just been enjoying all the resident events we do at the apartments. Bless Lia for making all of that even more fun for all of us.”
He rolls his eyes and I smirk at him. “Now you’re acting like my sassy girls.”
“Well, Miss Molly, as you may recall, I am a sassy boy.”
I huff and try to think of a good retort, when I see that the truck is stopped in front of the old DeLuca Delicious Delights plant, where my new custom dolls business, Molly’s Dollies, is about to take off.
If I can ever get here on time and focus.
I sigh and say goodbye to the girls and thank Tucker for the ride.
“Oh shoot, I really appreciate you dropping us all off, but now I don’t have my car, and Lia isn’t going to spend the whole day here, so I won’t have a ride home. She’s just—”
Tucker leans forward into the passenger seat and says, “Shh…girl, get in that building and make your dreams come true. I will pick you all up later.”
My face feels hotter and I stammer, “Oh…that’s too much trouble. I can’t ask you—”
He salutes me and says, “Get your butt in there, girl.”
As he drives away, I catch him smiling and waving in the rearview mirror.
That was weird, but I guess I should just be grateful for the kindness of neighbors. I’m one of those women who hates asking for help, but sometimes it’s awfully nice to have someone pitch in.
I hoist my overloaded bag onto my shoulder, and shuffle/run to the front door of my new business.
It hardly seems real.
Lia DeLuca moved to our town last year, after her grandmother passed away. For some strange reason, Mrs. DeLuca required Lia to move to Applebarrow to manage our apartment complex, which she owned, and plan social activities for the residents.
It was so odd because we all get along fine at Pentagon Place, and we didn’t need anyone to help us. I’ve lived there for fifteen years, and it’s home to me.
Over time it became clear that Lia’s dear Granana was meddling from the grave, so to speak, and wanted her to break up with her boyfriend and fall in love with one of the residents.
Mission accomplished—Lia got rid of her lying, cheating boyfriend Jason, and is now very much in love with Logan, Mrs. DeLuca’s favorite ‘nice young man’.
It was a sweet love story and I have to say it brightened even my outlook on relationships.
Well, just a tiny bit. My loser husband ran off about six months before Lia came to town. I’m still adjusting but I have to do all I can for my girls.
I finally make it to my little corner of this enormous plant site and open the heavy door. Lia was so sweet to invest in my business. I can never repay her. She just saw my handmade dolls at my apartment one night and decided that Molly’s Dollies should be a real thing.
My little fledgling business and a new organic dog food company occupy the site of the former DeLuca’s Delicious Delights snack cake empire.
It’s kind of ironic that my husband, Ray, was one of the many laid off employees affected by the late Mr. DeLuca’s sudden closing of the failing plant a few years ago.
Ray never really recovered, but he’s still a son of a bitch in my book. When he started with the pyramid scheme, I knew it was too good to be true from a financial perspective, but I hated to discourage him. I just never imagined that he would lose our savings in a year and take off with the conniving skank at the top of the pyramid.
I do my count to ten thing, now that I have time on the way to my office.
Yes, I have an office. Me. Molly Jenkins. The one who got pregnant at nineteen and got married, instead of going to college or making any career plans.
Waitressing and bartending have gotten me by all these years, but I don’t regret it because I have my girls and I’m still young enough to make a better life for us.
I walk into my office, lay down my bag and quickly run my fingers through my short, spiky blond hair. I chopped it all off when the girls were little to save time, and over the years it’s just become my look.
“There you are! Are you okay? Were the girls fighting again?”
Lia sashays into my office in her cute little sweater dress with the chunky heeled boots and swishes her long, dark blonde hair off her shoulders. She turned twenty-five right before Christmas and sometimes I envy her with her youth and her new love.
And the massive inheritance she still doesn’t have. In just a few more months, she will be the wealthiest girl I know. Waiting a year has been no problem for her, and she isn’t even upset with her grandmother for putting that waiting period in her Will. She’s so happy all the time, now that Jason is out of her life and Logan is in.
“Of course, they were fighting. We need to get an earlier start. I’m really sorry. Where is the new accountant?”
She waves her hand in the direction of the other offices and says, “Oh, Brenda took him in the conference room. She didn’t want to wait any longer. You know how she is.”
I sigh and slump in my ergonomically perfect office chair. I wish I could waitress at the diner rolling around in this thing. It feels like strong hands are holding me up all day when I sit in it. Kind of like Tucker’s hands looked on the steering wheel…
“What did you say, Lia? I’m sorry I drifted off.”
And to where I don’t understand…I made Tucker peanut butter sandwiches when he was seven years old and I was twelve.
Was I that absorbed in my married life, and then with feeling sorry for myself, that I am just now noticing the guy is almost thirty? And quite hot?
Maybe it’s because love is in the air at Pentagon Place. We’ve had so many couples hooking up and finding love in the past year. He’s probably lonely working on cars all day with his brother and going home to a frozen supper. I should really make him some…no, that would just be encouraging him.
Lia waves her hand in front of my face. “Hello, are you in there?”
She sits down in the cozy chair on the other side of my desk and leans forward. “Are you okay? You don’t look sick, but I’m sure you’re tired. I actually feel bad for helping you now. I am such a newbie at this business stuff that I never thought about all the startup time, and how much work that would be for you while you’re holding down a full-time job and being a mom.”
Lia and I have had this same conversation several times in the past couple of months, but how can I be upset with her? I knew what I was getting into.
Brenda Wagner, the DeLuca family accountant, was assigned the task of helping with the financial management of my startup. She’s about sixty years old and tough as nails. I can’t wait to see her face when she introduces this new guy. I’m sure she’s mad I was late for the meeting.
But she never had any kids and doesn’t even have a pet. She calls herself, ‘The Lone Ranger’.
“Lia, honey we’ve had this talk. Once we get over this hump and we get the first line into production, my involvement will be reduced. And hopefully someday I’ll be able to quit waitressing or at least cut back.”
Lia crosses her legs and sighs. “You know I could lend you some money to quit now.”
I put my hand up immediately. “Nope, I love you like a baby sister, but I do not want to owe anyone anything. And I am not afraid of a little hard work. Plus, I had a little help today.”
“Oh yeah, who was the good Samaritan?”
Just as I start to tell Lia about Tucker giving us a ride this morning, Brenda waltzes into my office without knocking, with a skinny redheaded kid at her heels.
“Molly Jenkins, our Creative Director.” She gestures towards me and I get up to shake the young man’s hand.
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