Marrying Molly

by Linda Hope Lee

  Quit kidding yourself. Sara’s a matchmaker. And you don’t need that.

  Molly came to the end of her invoices. Still not sure what she should do, she looked up. Her gaze slid over Sara and landed on Steve. He stood with feet slightly apart, his shoulders rigid. The hope reflected in his eyes both shocked and touched her. Did her accompanying him to the party mean that much? Why?

  Her throat tightened. Don’t go there. Not now.

  Pushing the worry aside, she allowed a smile to creep across her lips. “Okay,” she said, making sure her voice held a resigned tone. “I’ll go.”

  Steve’s shoulders relaxed, and his brown eyes took on a new light. “Thanks, Molly.”

  “Yay!” Sara clapped her hands above her head and danced a jig.

  Molly couldn’t help laughing.

  Steve joined in, tossing back his head and filling the small room with his rich laughter.

  When Sara settled down, she said to Molly, “As soon as we close for the day, come on up to the house, and we’ll try on the dress.”

  ****

  “Mommy, you look bee-u-ti-ful!”

  Standing in front of her full-length mirror, Molly smiled at her daughter, whose eyes were wide and full of wonder. “Thank you, darlin’.” She smoothed the cap sleeve of Sara’s green dress then ran her fingers over the scoop neckline. Shortening the length was the only change Sara had needed to make.

  “I wish I could go.”

  The wistful note in Karli’s voice tugged at Molly’s heart. “I do, too, baby. But the party tonight is for grownups. Auntie Sara and Uncle Jackson will take good care of you. You can help them with Ryan.”

  Karli tugged Molly’s skirt. “Will you be home in time to tuck me in?”

  A twinge of guilt nudged Molly. As far as she could recall, this was the first time she would miss their nightly ritual. “No, honey. I’ll see you in the morning. Now, run and get your backpack and your jacket, and we’ll be on our way to the ranch house.”

  A few minutes later, as Molly and Karli walked along the road leading to Sara and Jackson’s house, a car came toward them. Shading her eyes with her hand, Molly peered at the vehicle. The driver couldn’t be Steve, but perhaps he’d sent Jackson to pick them up.

  No, the car headed their way was shiny white. The Phillips owned no vehicle that color, and Steve’s rental was gray.

  Then she saw that the car was very long—a limousine. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a gasp. What was going on? Surely, Steve didn’t expect her to drive a limo into Denver.

  Keeping a tight hold on Karli’s hand, she stepped to the side of the road and waited. The limo, chrome all polished and shiny, windows tinted, stopped beside her and Karli.

  A back window slid smoothly down, and Steve’s head appeared. “I hoped we’d get to your place before you started out.”

  “What is this? Who’s driving?” Molly peered inside the car. A man wearing a cap and a uniform sat in the driver’s seat.

  “His name is Carlos. He’s from the limo service.”

  Molly couldn’t help the smile that tilted her lips. “You mean I’m not driving?”

  “No, you’re riding back here.” He patted the seat beside him. “I should’ve thought of this in the first place. Anyway, get in. We’ll drop Karli off at the house.” He leaned farther out the window and smiled at Karli. “Everyone’s waiting for you, honey.”

  Carlos, a cheerful-looking man in his forties, unfolded his lanky frame from behind the wheel and opened the back door. Molly and Karli climbed in. The interior was dim and cozy, and smelled of leather. Karli sat between Molly and Steve, bouncing up and down on the seat. “This is fun. There’s a TV and everything.”

  Over Karli’s head, Steve’s gaze met Molly’s. “So, what do you think?”

  Touched by his thoughtfulness, Molly could only shake her head in wonder. “I’m speechless.”

  Steve laughed. “I’ll have to take a long look at you, then. I’ve never seen you speechless before.”

  ****

  An hour later, after a smooth, leisurely ride on the freeway, the driver dropped off Molly and Steve at The Commodore. The building’s silvery exterior glittered in light from the setting sun. A fountain that must have been at least twenty feet high, surrounded by a garden of cheerful orange poppies, filled a courtyard leading to the hotel’s entrance.

  Inside, a hotel employee directed them to the elevators. After a short wait with a group of other party guests, they were whisked to the twenty-fifth floor.

  As they stood side by side in the elevator, Molly slanted a glance at Steve and couldn’t help noticing how his black suit jacket emphasized his broad shoulders. As he shifted to allow room for other passengers, she caught a whiff of his cologne, the woodsy scent she’d come to associate with him. Her heart beat a little faster.

  At last, they reached the twenty-fifth floor. From the elevator, they followed a short hallway to the ballroom where the party was in progress. Music from a live band, mingled with laughter and conversation, filled the air. While the others from the elevator eagerly entered the room, Molly stopped and stiffened.

  “You okay?” Steve gripped her elbow and leaned close.

  Although comforted by his touch, Molly still hesitated. “Not really. I’m sure I won’t know a soul here. In Chicago, I went to a couple of realtors’ conventions with parties this size, but at least I knew a few people.”

  Steve peered into the room. “Except for Harwell and his assistant, Kevin Yang, I don’t know anyone here, either.”

  “But you have a purpose for being here.”

  “So do you. You’re with me. Come on, let’s have a good time.”

  They stepped into the room, which was a different world. The aromas of exotic spices from a nearby buffet table mingled with that of the guests’ perfumes. Knowing Sara would want to hear all the details, Molly took special note of her surroundings.

  At one end, an orchestra played music while the guests stood on the parquet floor sipping drinks and eating hors d’oeuvres. Round, cloth-covered tables set for dinner lined the dance floor. Thick candles in glass containers, and yellow and red roses decorated the tables. Yellow and red balloons bobbed along the ceiling, dangling curlicues of ribbon. Above the bandstand, a banner proclaimed, “Happy Twenty-Fifth to Harwell!”

  A tall man with white hair and mustache broke away from a group and approached them. “Steve, glad you could make the party.”

  “Hello, Mr. Harwell. I’m glad I could, too.” Steve gestured to Molly. “This is my friend, Molly Henson.”

  “Welcome.” Mr. Harwell made a slight bow.

  “Thank you.” Molly smiled, but her lips felt stiff. Mr. Harwell reminded her of her boss in Chicago, a man who appeared congenial but who wasn’t afraid to exercise his power and authority.

  A woman approached behind Mr. Harwell.

  “Here’s my wife,” he said, putting an arm around her waist and drawing her close. “Adele, these are Steve Roper and Molly Henson. Will you look after Molly while I introduce Steve to some associates I want him to meet?”

  “Of course. Come along, dear.”

  Adele nodded pleasantly at Molly. She wore her white hair swept back from her suntanned face. Her blue earrings were probably real something-or-other and matched her blue sheath dress.

  “I’ll be okay by myself.” Molly made a vague gesture toward the dance floor.

  Adele raised carefully-penciled eyebrows.

  At the look, Molly stilled. Realizing she’d goofed and that Adele’s hospitality was part of the occasion’s ritual, Molly pressed her fingers to her lips. “I appreciate your looking out for me, my being a stranger and all.”

  “Taking care of newcomers is what I do.” Adele patted Molly’s shoulder. “Let’s get you something to drink.”

  Once Molly had a glass of white wine in hand, Adele steered her toward a group of women. “I’ll introduce you to some of the other wives.”

  Molly opened her mouth to tell Adele
she was not a wife then changed her mind and kept silent. Her status probably wouldn’t matter to anyone, anyway.

  The half dozen women, all dressed in the latest fashions and all about Molly’s age or a little older, greeted her with polite interest. After Adele excused herself to greet another new arrival, Molly did her best to follow the women’s conversation. Mostly, they were discussing their children and other social events they’d attended. Feeling she had nothing to contribute, she edged away.

  She scanned the crowd for Steve, but he was nowhere in sight. Even though surrounded by a sea of people, she felt very alone. Her breath tangled in her throat.

  What was she doing here? If she’d stayed at home, about now she’d be tucking her daughter into bed and sharing their nightly story. That was where she belonged, not here among strangers, attempting to discuss subjects about which she had little or no knowledge.

  She set her empty wine glass on a passing waiter’s tray and headed toward the Ladies’ Room. Once inside, with the door closed behind her, she dropped into an overstuffed chair and pulled her cell phone from her small shoulder bag. She punched in the ranch’s number.

  Sara answered with a cheery hello.

  Her familiar voice soothed Molly. Karli was fine. Was Molly having a good time? Molly told Sara she was. After a couple more remarks, they ended the call. Molly put away her phone and entered the adjoining room housing the toilets. Minutes later, she and another woman emerged at the same time from their respective stalls.

  Glancing at the woman, Molly judged her to be in her early thirties. She had straight, black hair and wore a black dress that clung to her thin body.

  The woman strode to the counter and squeezed a blob of a dispenser’s soap into her palm. As she looked into the mirror, her gaze caught Molly’s. “Ah hate these things,” she said, in a thick, Southern accent.

  Molly’s brows knit as she pressed soap into her palm. “The soap dispenser? Mine works okay.”

  The other woman tipped back her head and laughed. “No, I mean these shindigs. Oops, I’m sure they wouldn’t want their fancy party called that.” With a sideways glance toward the door, she laughed again.

  “This seems like a nice party.” Molly held her hands under the faucet and waited for the water to automatically flow. She had no idea whom she was talking to and wouldn’t want her criticism passed on to the wrong person.

  “I guess it is, if you like this sort of celebration.” The woman rinsed her hands and tore off a paper towel from the dispenser. “But maybe you do?”

  Molly shrugged and rotated her hands under the water flow. “I haven’t had much experience with parties such as this.”

  The woman nodded. “I thought you looked like a greenhorn. I’m LaTisha Melborn. Tish for short.”

  “I’m Molly Henson.”

  Tish took a comb from her clutch purse and combed her hair. “Your husband’s a new hire-on?”

  “I’m not here with my husband.” Speaking the words caused a sudden ache to invade Molly’s heart. “I’m a widow.”

  Tish wrinkled her brow. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Molly ducked her head in acknowledgment of Tish’s sympathy. “I’m here with a friend. He’s selling some accounting software to Mr. Harwell. Or hopes to.” Oh, oh, had she said too much? She and Steve hadn’t rehearsed what information to give out tonight.

  Tish nodded. “My husband, Layton, is one of the VPs. He’s probably heard about your friend.”

  Molly tore off a paper towel and dried her hands. “And maybe met Steve by now, too. I haven’t seen him since we arrived.”

  “Right.” Tish tucked away her comb. “Perry left you with Adele. And she introduced you to a bunch of other women then left you with them. And they were talking about stuff you didn’t know anything about.”

  “How’d you know?”

  Tish shrugged. “That’s the drill. Same thing happened to me when I was new. I still feel like a stranger, sometimes. I’m more comfortable in a pair of boots and jeans than a dress.”

  Wow, this woman was a country girl? Molly’s eyes widened. “Really? Me, too. I’m staying on a ranch right now. The Rolling R.”

  “We have a ranch, too, that I escape to whenever I can. But, hey, we’d better get back to the party.”

  Molly followed Tish from the restroom, surprised that she and Tish had something in common. Maybe she’d made a friend.

  They were still talking about ranch life when Steve approached.

  “Molly! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  “You can blame me,” Tish said with a wide smile. “I turned her five-minute powder room break into fifteen.”

  Happy she’d found Steve at last, Molly introduced the two.

  Tish focused her gaze on Steve’s injured arm. “Looks like you had a run-in with something.”

  Molly tensed. She hated being reminded of Steve’s accident, but since the injury was obvious, comments were to be expected.

  Steve shot Molly a glance then said, “Yep. Met up with a slippery river rock.” Without giving Tish time to respond, he continued. “I met your husband. I think.”

  Tish laughed. “You’d remember Layton. He’s a big guy, goatee, heavy laugh.”

  “Right. Say, I think you two are at our table.”

  “Great.” Tish favored Molly with a bright smile. “I’ll go round up Layton and see you two later.”

  ****

  Half an hour later, Molly sat beside Steve at one of the round tables. On her other side were Tish and her husband, Layton. The two other couples that completed their table were new to Molly. Despite having become acquainted with Tish, Molly still felt awkward and out of place, but with so many others to do the talking, she didn’t have to say much. Steve, however, seemed quite comfortable as he conversed back and forth with their new acquaintances.

  While they ate the chocolate mousse dessert, the master of ceremonies began the program. His deep voice boomed over the loudspeaker. Several people, including Mr. Harwell, spoke about the company’s history and then about its future. Award presentations followed.

  “This is the tough part,” Tish whispered to Molly. “But hang on. Dancing’s next.”

  Dancing? Were they staying for that? With his arm in a sling, would Steve be able to dance? Would he even want to? The thought of being as close to him as dancing would require brought warmth to her cheeks.

  When the formal program was over, the orchestra began to play, and the master of ceremonies invited everyone to the dance floor. Steve stretched his arm along the back of her chair and leaned close. Expecting him to suggest they leave, she readied herself to say good-bye to their tablemates.

  Instead, his eyes twinkling, Steve said, “How ‘bout a dance, Molly?”

  She drew back. “What? Why, I didn’t think you’d want to.” She nodded at his injured arm.

  “I’m betting I can guide us around to a slow tune. I’d like to try, anyway.” His brows bunched together. “Or do you need to get home to Karli?”

  Molly lowered her gaze and studied her hands in her lap. Here was a logical way out—if she wanted it. But, no, she must be truthful. “I called the ranch awhile ago. Sara said everything was fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. So, how about we give dancing a try?”

  Still, Molly hesitated. If she said “no,” she’d appear rude, wouldn’t she? But saying “yes” might stir up dangerous emotions.

  “Molly?”

  Excitement building, Molly sucked in a breath. “Well…all right.”

  On the dance floor, after fumbling around a bit, they finally settled on a position with his left arm around her waist and both of her hands on his shoulders. Even with his injured arm between them, their bodies grazed each other’s, chest to chest, hip to hip, and each contact sent a surge of heat through Molly.

  “You’re a good dancer,” he said, as they glided around the floor.

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Didn’t your husband like da
ncing?”

  The mention of Buck brought a soft smile to Molly’s lips. “He liked country-western, but he didn’t have much patience for slow dancing.”

  Steve guided her past a couple that swooped close with a fancy turn. “What do you like best?”

  Her fingers smoothed a circle on his shoulder. “I like both. This is nice.”

  “It is,” he said, bending his head so that his warm breath tickled her ear. A pleasant shiver rippled down her spine.

  When the song ended, Steve kept his arm around her waist. “Shall we do it again?”

  Being close was great, and not as scary as she’d imagined. Molly felt as though she’d had only one bite of a dish of ice cream. How could she walk away without eating the rest?

  “All right.”

  Three songs later, they passed an open door leading to a terrace. A slight breeze blew cool air inside.

  “Let’s get some fresh air,” he suggested, guiding her through the doorway.

  On the terrace, they strolled past wrought iron tables and chairs filled with guests. The scent of flower arrangements on the tables drifted along the airwaves. They approached the chest-high stone wall overlooking the city. Lights from other skyscrapers glowed all around them. In the background, the mountains formed dark silhouettes under stars glittering in an inky sky. Muted sounds of late night traffic floated up from below.

  Molly took a deep breath, allowing the cool evening air to fill her lungs. “What a gorgeous night.”

  He leaned his arm on the stone wall. “I agree. And you sound like you’re having a good time.”

  A smile tilted her lips. “I am, Steve. Really.” She spoke the truth. The rough spots she’d had at the beginning had faded away.

  They enjoyed the view for a while longer then continued on around the perimeter, pausing now and then to look over the wall and survey the changing scene below. They passed other couples, some also strolling, others sitting at the tables.

  When they came to the end of the terrace, Molly turned around to start back.