Fran smiled knowingly, looking down at her work again. Fran wasn’t the gossiping type, but Molly still felt uncomfortable. That was the problem with living in a small town. Everyone seemed to know everything almost before it even happened.
Once inside the office, Betty quickly shut the door. “So? What’s the story?”
Molly sighed and flopped into an armchair. “I had a great time. I think he did, too, but who can tell about these things? Men just . . . baffle me. He gave me one of those ‘I’ll call you sometime’ good-byes. That’s not a good sign, is it?”
Betty sat on the edge of her desk, her shiny, chin-length blond hair swinging around her face.
“Well, that depends. He doesn’t seem like the type who would say that and not call. Maybe he just felt self-conscious around the kids. I think you should sit tight and give him time.”
“Good advice. As if I have any choice in the matter,” Molly added with a small laugh.
“I heard that his office was opening this week. I’m sure he’s feeling stressed and expects to be very busy. Maybe he didn’t feel able to make any plans right now.”
“Maybe.” Betty’s explanation gave her a little hope but not much. “Wait, I forgot to tell you the funniest part. While I was waiting for Lauren to come out from backstage, Phil showed up.”
“He didn’t.” Betty’s eyes widened with astonishment.
“He did. With enough flowers for the entire Miss America pageant, playing his Devoted Dad act to the hilt. It’s starting to drive me crazy.” Molly’s maddened expression made Betty laugh.
“He does sound a little over-the-top.”
“Over-the-top would be an improvement. He just assumed that the girls and I would be free to have dinner with him. So that caused a big to-do with Lauren. Then Matthew felt awkward, I guess, and invited Phil to come along with us.”
“Oh, no. You poor thing. A first-date disaster. I’d rather have spinach stuck in my teeth,” Betty said decidedly.
“This was definitely worse than spinach. Phil finally took a hint and backed off. I guess I looked like I was about to strangle him. But that’s what I mean about Matthew. I don’t think inviting my ex-husband out to dinner with us was a good sign.”
Betty gazed down at her a moment, then patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I have a good feeling about this, honestly.”
Molly felt cheered by her friend’s words. “You were right about the dress, though.”
“I told you that dress was perfect for you.” Betty smiled in a self-satisfied way. “That proves you have to listen to my advice about these things. Don’t get too distracted about Matthew. Just let it unfold.” Betty gestured with her hands, the many rings on her fingers sparkling.
“Frankly, I’m so stressed about work right now, I don’t have time to worry about him, too. That’s what I really wanted to talk to you about, Betty. I’m getting cold feet. I think I made a huge mistake giving up all my cleaning jobs, and now it’s too late to get them back.”
“It’s hard to make such a big change,” Betty said sympathetically. “You’re bound to have some second thoughts.”
“I’d describe it more like sheer terror. I woke up at three A.M. in a cold sweat. I can’t make a living on the cooking and baking alone. And even if I get more business, I can’t handle it all. What was I thinking? It’s just not going to work.”
Betty rested a steady hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Molly. You’re panicking. I think I need to have you breathe into a paper bag.” Her tone was serious, but her eyes held a mirthful light.
“Of course I’m panicking! I’m just not like you, Betty. I just don’t have what it takes to run a business.”
“Now, now. None of that put-down talk. You’re as smart as anybody, smarter than most people I know. So that excuse just doesn’t work on me,” Betty said sternly. “Let’s talk about this logically, point by point. What exactly has thrown you into such a tizzy?”
Molly stared at her friend. As much as she felt like falling apart at the seams, clearly Betty wouldn’t let her. She took another deep breath and tried to organize her thoughts.
“First of all, I don’t have enough orders to make the amount of money I need.”
“Okay, fair enough. But Phil is giving you support checks for the girls now, so that should help. More importantly, there must be loads more possible clients out there for you. Now that you’re not wasting your time cleaning, you can go after new business—in that fabulous dress, of course,” she added, making Molly smile again. “So, do you have any new prospects lined up?”
“Well, I do have an appointment tomorrow at the country club in Hamilton,” Molly had to admit.
“Excellent. That horsie set throws tons of parties. You’re bound to get a lot of contacts there.”
“If I get the work.”
“Of course you’ll get it. Think positively,” Betty urged her. “The first thing I want you to do after that is sit with the phone book and make a list of all the possible places you can call for work. Then try to set up some appointments. Mention your classy clients, like the Spoon Harbor Inn and the Pequot Inn. They’ll be impressed. They won’t want to miss out. If you don’t have enough new clients after that, then . . . well, then we’ll figure out some other strategy. Refrigerator magnets or sky writing, maybe,” Betty said, waving her hands in the air.
“Betty, be serious. Besides, even if I get more clients, I can’t fill the orders. I can’t be cooking and baking night and day. And how about delivering all this stuff? I’ve been driving around all day as it is.”
“Many hands make light work,” Betty told her. “It’s not just a saying in a fortune cookie. Did you ever check into hiring a helper? I thought we already covered that.”
“Oh, right. No, I guess I didn’t.”
Betty gazed at her and shook her head. “Listen, this is what I’m hearing: The old way was familiar and comforting, even though it wasn’t getting you from point A to point B. The new path is scary, unknown. There are problems to solve around every corner, very discouraging. So it seems easier now—smarter even—to turn back and hide in your dark, cozy little hole. But that’s not like you, Molly. You’re not a quitter,” Betty insisted. “I know this is what you really want, and I wouldn’t be a real friend if I let you give up now, would I?”
Molly gazed at Betty for a long moment, then shook her head. “So you won’t let me whine and wiggle my way out of this? Is that what you’re saying?”
“See, you catch on pretty quickly.” Betty smiled again. “Here’s an idea for you. I’m going to teach an adult-ed course up at the high school about real-estate sales. Classes begin this week. There’s also a course being offered about working in restaurants and catering, and I heard the instructor is great. I’m sure it would give you the nuts-and-bolts information you really need to get going.”
“Take a course?” Molly considered the idea. Although she had thought of taking a class in starting a small business, it never seemed to be the right time. But if not now, when? she asked herself bluntly. Besides, what did she have to lose? She’d get an idea of the real problems she’d face trying to do this work full-time and possibly some of the solutions as well.
“That’s a good suggestion,” she said. “I’ll go up to the high school today and look into it.”
“That’s the spirit. Don’t delay; you might start getting second thoughts,” Betty warned her.
Molly smiled. Sometimes Betty knew her too well.
“And I’ll check the student job list while I’m there, too,” Molly promised. She knew Betty was bound to mention that next.
When Molly was finally ready to leave, she gave Betty a huge impulsive hug. “Thanks. I guess I came unglued there for a minute.”
“Yes, you did. Nothing I couldn’t handle, though,” Betty admitted with a grin. Then her voice turned serious as she said, “Just remember, ‘Whatever you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.’ ”
Molly blinked. “Don’t tell me, Ann Landers?”
Betty shook her head. “Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, a German poet. The point is, I know you can do it, Molly. Trust me on this, okay?”
Molly nodded, suddenly feeling her throat too tight speak.
She did trust Betty. Implicitly. She only wished she could trust herself as much.
FRAN MARCHED INTO THE FAMILY ROOM AND STOOD BESIDE THE TV. Tucker glanced at her, then looked back at the set. He was watching some sporting event as usual—basketball tonight—and he had barely said hello when she came in.
At least Carl isn’t in here, too, she thought. That would really be the icing on her cake today.
“I’m home,” she announced, still wearing her coat.
Tucker gave her a confused look. “I can see that. Can you step to the side, please? I’m trying to watch the game.”
Fran turned and clicked off the TV.
Tucker sat up straight in his armchair as if prodded by an electric shock. “What did you do that for? It’s a big game, for goodness’ sake. It’s the Celtics, Fran.”
“Sorry, Tucker. We have to talk.” She took off her coat and sat down on the sofa.
“This is about Carl again. Isn’t it?”
Fran nodded. She could see Tucker’s expression change and readied herself for another argument. She just had to make him see this time.
“Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened. It was awful for me. You really have no idea. Or maybe you do but you prefer to keep your head stuck in the sand.”
Tucker took a breath. She could see that he was trying hard to control his temper. “Let’s see, you went down the street to Sylvia North’s house for a PTA meeting. Is that right so far?”
Fran nodded. “The Teacher Appreciation Day planning committee. We talked for a while about the event. The luncheon plans, should we buy corsages or give plants, that sort of thing. Then Sylvia brought out the coffee and everyone started chatting about their kids and things going on in the neighborhood—”
“Okay, I get the picture. So, what was so awful that you turned off the Celtics with two minutes left on the clock?”
Tucker’s impatient tone upset her all over again. “Sorry to bore you, Tucker. First my feelings aren’t as important as your brother’s and now I don’t even beat out the Celtics.”
“I never said that, Fran.”
“You didn’t have to say it. It’s perfectly obvious.” Fran sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. She could feel Tucker watching her, but she avoided meeting his gaze.
“Just tell me what happened at the meeting. Somebody said something nasty about Carl living here, is that it?”
“Brilliant deduction. You should be a detective. You’re really wasted in uniform.” Tucker took a sharp breath, and she knew that she had hurt him. Still, she pressed on, “I don’t even want to tell you now. You don’t care what I’ve been through over this situation. I lost a good client this week.”
Tucker sighed. “You told me. But you don’t know that for sure, Fran. They could have given the listing to someone else for a lot of reasons.”
“It was because of Carl,” she insisted. “I know you don’t like hearing that, Tucker, but it’s true. You know what they said at the meeting tonight? All the neighbors are concerned about Carl being here. They’re afraid about getting their houses broken into and even their property values going down once the word gets out that the newest resident on our street is an ex-convict. Sylvia wants to put her house on the market soon. Not that I’ll get the listing, believe me,” Fran said, shaking her head. “She’s the one who cornered me, asking how long he’ll be here. ‘Aren’t you afraid to have him in the house with you like that?’ she said. Well, what could I say? I am afraid sometimes.”
“Oh, come on, Fran. Carl is no threat to anyone around here. That’s just ridiculous. You have to just ignore that kind of talk.”
“I’m sorry, Tucker. I just can’t. It really upsets me.” She shrugged. “Maybe I care too much what people think. Or maybe I’m not as good-hearted as you are,” she said honestly. “But that’s just who I am. I can’t help it.”
Her husband glanced at her, folding his hands together. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
The thing was, Fran knew she could help it if she really wanted to. She could try harder to live her faith. That’s what the right attitude would be. But she didn’t have patience or the energy for that. Not like Tucker, Lord bless him. Sometimes it seemed he had enough patience and integrity for both of them.
Her husband was special. He had a good heart; she’d always known that about him. He’s never changed but maybe I have, she thought with a pang.
She could have married someone else, someone more ambitious, bound to achieve more material success in life. But she chose Tucker Tulley because of who he was inside. He wanted to do something meaningful with his life, and she had admired that. She’d been idealistic back then, with youthful values. Unrealistic ones, it now seemed.
“What do you want me to do, Fran?” Tucker asked slowly. “Should I take out an advertisement in the Messenger and promise people Carl poses no threat to their safety? Do you want me to tell people that it’s all my fault, that you have nothing to do with this?”
“Tucker, of course not. But—” Fran hesitated, wondering if she should just let it go. No, she had to be honest. “I want you to find other arrangements,” she continued in a halting voice. “You said he’d only be here a few days. Well, it’s been more than a few days now, and he seems to be improving. Maybe you can find him another place at that shelter in Beverly.”
Tucker didn’t say a word, but by the stiff way he was holding himself, she could see how hard she’d pushed him. She felt awful and nearly took back her demand.
“I’m sorry, Tucker. I just hate being talked about. Our own neighbors are mad at us. Maybe you don’t mind that so much. Maybe you have thicker skin than I do. But it’s hard for me. Don’t you understand even a little bit?”
Tucker nodded and moved over onto the couch to sit near her. “Sure, I understand. I’m sorry, too, Fran. I don’t mean to fight with you every night about this. We never really fight, do we?”
“No,” she said bleakly. “Most of the time we’re pretty good about talking things through.”
Tucker put his arm around her shoulders, and the familiar gesture of affection made her feel a little better.
“This is a problem, Fran,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about your feelings in this matter. I do. But I promised Carl he could stay here until he recuperates, and I meant it. I promised him,” he repeated.
Fran didn’t know what to say. The same reply from some other man might not mean so much, but Tucker’s promises were not empty words spoken lightly then broken on a whim. It would hurt Tucker to go back on his word to his brother. It would cut deep. It would hurt our marriage, too, if I force him to do that for me. And that, Fran realized, might be far worse than suffering the dirty looks of neighbors.
She felt Tucker watching her, but she didn’t look up at him.
“All right,” she said at last. “You promised him. You don’t want to go back on your word. I have to respect that, I suppose.”
He stared at her and blinked. She could tell he was surprised that she’d backed down, though his expression didn’t show much.
“Can we at least figure out a time frame here? Something I can tell people?”
Tucker shrugged. “I guess that’s a reasonable request. But it’s not as if when the clock runs down, I’m going to throw him out. Carl’s making good progress, though. I have to bring him to the doctor on Friday. Let’s see what kind of report he gets. I guess it might be two or three weeks more?”
Fran felt deflated. Three weeks? It sounded like such a long time. But there didn’t seem to be any help for it. She could manage, she decided. It wasn’t as if Tucker was insisting that Carl
move in with them.
Not yet, anyway. Thank goodness.
“All right. I just wanted some idea.”
Tucker gave her a questioning look. “I suppose he could go sooner if he improves quickly.”
“That’s all right. I understand,” Fran insisted. “I guess I could help you out by taking care of him a bit more. He could eat dinner with us, if he feels up to it. It’s not right to keep him cooped up in that little room. He probably gets lonely.”
“He must,” Tucker agreed. “Even if he’d never admit it.”
Tucker had been dutiful about taking care of Carl and spending time with him in the evenings. Fran suspected that Carl often chased him out of the room, always acting as if he didn’t need anybody.
“You have a lot patience with him.”
“Thanks. I try.” Tucker dipped his head and smiled.
“And with me,” she added with a grin. She paused and bit her lip. “I’m sorry I turned off the Celtics.”
Tucker laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “That’s okay. I’ll catch the ending on the late news. Just don’t try that again. I might not let you get away with it a second time.”
“Fair enough. I wouldn’t dare do it if the Red Sox were playing.”
“Not if you know what’s good for you.”
Fran smiled at him. It felt good to laugh with her husband again, as if life were getting back to normal. She only hoped the rest of their time taking care of Carl would pass quickly so things really could get back to normal.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MOLLY STARTED OFF THE WEEK WITH A HECTIC SCHEDULE, though not busy enough to keep her from thinking about Matthew and from jumping out of her skin every time the phone rang. He was probably busy with work, this being the first week of his practice, Molly would remind herself. But as the week wore on, the thought became less and less consoling.
She was rolling out pastry dough for pie shells on Wednesday afternoon when the kitchen phone rang. Her hands were sticky and full of flour, and she nearly let the machine pick up. But thinking it might be the school nurse or something having to do with the girls, she scurried to answer it.
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