Molly refilled her own cup. “I remain eternally optimistic.”
“Good.” That just seemed too easy. “May I give you some advice?”
As if “no” was a possible answer. “Of course.”
She patted the stool next to her, and Molly sat. “Don’t hide. Don’t slink. If you’re going to try to keep a secret, you have to be prepared to brazen through once that secret comes out. And in small towns, secrets always come out eventually.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here today. I’m just going to have to face the shame.”
“The shame?” Mrs. Miller’s eyebrows knitted together. “I can understand your embarrassment, but shame? Why are you ashamed of yourself?”
“Because I lied to everyone.”
Mrs. Miller’s laugh caught her off guard. “Honey, no one has to tell the truth all the time. Imagine the disaster that would be. No one ever asked you if you were married, did they?” Molly shook her head. “Then you’re not a liar.”
“I’ve been told that’s splitting hairs.”
“So?”
Molly blinked in disbelief. Until just now, she’d have said Mrs. Miller had the strongest moral compass possible. Therefore her words seemed . . . surreal. “But dating Tate rather implied that I was single.”
“True, but you’ve been separated a long time, right? And considering how unpleasant your hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband is, who can blame you for trying to find some happiness?”
“I figured most people would . . . I mean . . .”
“Expecting to wear the scarlet letter, are you?”
She sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Miller just laughed and shook her head. “And once again, each generation thinks they invented sex and all the possibilities therein. I’ve lived in this town my entire life, child. I know things you can’t begin to imagine about people you’d never suspect. If I have to start handing out big red letter A’s to people, this town’s going to look like the stands of an Alabama home game.”
Molly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle. “Surely not,” she managed to say after a moment to control herself. “Not here.”
“People are people, Molly. And throwing stones is a dangerous practice. Particularly in a small town where—”
“There’s no such thing as a secret,” Molly finished for her.
“Be easy on yourself,” Mrs. Miller said, giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “It’ll all be fine.”
Molly spent a good portion of the morning reeling from that statement, and an equal amount wondering at the ongoing proof it might be true. Business certainly wasn’t hurting, and while tourists could be credited with part of that, there were plenty of regulars coming in as usual. There were no ugly looks coming her way, only polite inquiries into her health as she’d been “sick” the day before, and a few whispered conversations when her back was turned.
And since good manners kept people from bringing up unpleasant topics directly, she was mainly able to carry on business as usual.
Then Sam showed up for her shift.
It was an awkward reminder that while the town in general seemed willing to if not forget, then at least outwardly ignore the entire situation, the one person who couldn’t was Tate. And while Sam might like her, blood was always thicker than water.
And while she was trying very hard to not think about Tate right now, Sam’s presence made that impossible. At the same time, this wasn’t Sam’s fault, and it wouldn’t be fair to put her in the middle.
“Hi, Molly. I’m glad you’re feeling better today.”
“Thanks. And thanks for working overtime yesterday.”
“No problem.” She paused, twisting her lips as if she wanted to say something. Molly just waited, wiping down the counters. Finally Sam shrugged. “Tate’s got a good heart. It just works against him sometimes.”
And I hurt him.
Molly nodded.
“So is there a special today?”
And at that, the day was officially surreal. She’d expected . . . something from Sam. Granted, she was Sam’s boss, so berating her wasn’t one of Sam’s options, but Sam must like her job a hell of a lot to not have anything to say about it. Not believing it, but not questioning it too closely either, Molly could only shake her head as she went to unpack the new coffee shipment that had arrived.
Not that it negated the utter humiliation and shame she felt at being exposed like that in front of everyone or the knowledge that people were gossiping about her behind her back even if they weren’t calling her a harlot and a liar to her face, but it made things more bearable.
And honestly, she’d learned long ago to accept small favors for the blessings they were.
She let Sam go home early as a thanks for all the extra hours and stayed behind to finish the last of the cleaning up by herself. She moved quickly, ready to get home to the wine in her fridge that would reward her for surviving today.
Just as she went to turn off the lights, though, there was a knock on the door. Adam Tanner was peering in. Concerned, she went to see what he was doing there.
“Hey, Molly. I’m glad I caught you before you left.”
“If you’re after coffee, I’m afraid I’ve already poured everything out, and I don’t have anything to offer. I could make you a cup of tea?”
“I actually came by to talk to you. Do you have a second?”
“Of course.” She went to one of the comfy overstuffed chairs and sat, motioning Adam toward the other. “What’s up?”
“I might be overstepping a line here into your personal business, but please don’t shoot me for it.”
“I think all my personal business is on display at the moment anyway, so I can’t really take it out on you.” It was weird, though, because Adam Tanner might have been one of the last people in Magnolia Beach she’d figure would have any interest in this.
“I’m not a divorce attorney—”
Molly jerked. She’d forgotten for a moment that Adam was an attorney of any sort, and this impromptu meeting took a scary turn.
“But from what I’ve heard, there’s just something not right about what’s going on with yours.”
That was not what she’d expected. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t make sense to me. It shouldn’t be taking this long for it to happen. Can I ask you a couple of questions?”
A spark of hope lit in her chest. She wasn’t going to fan that spark into a flame or anything, but it was nice to hear Adam say she should be divorced by now. “Sure.”
“Is there money—a settlement, alimony—something like that you’re fighting over?”
“No. At first, yes, I asked for alimony, but I didn’t have a job then.” It was weird to be discussing this so openly, but it was good, too. She wasn’t hiding anymore. “But once this place started turning a profit, I decided I didn’t need it, and it wasn’t worth the battle. I withdrew the request a long time ago.”
“Money and kids are the two things that usually slow down divorces. I don’t see why yours would be stalled, then, if that’s not an issue.”
She gave Adam a few highlights of her divorce saga, but she trailed off when he started shaking his head. “No offense, Molly, but your lawyer sounds damn near incompetent to me.”
She felt her jaw go slack, but Adam either didn’t notice or was too polite to comment on it.
“If you’re willing, I’d like to take a look at your paperwork. Do you have copies?”
“Of course. I’ve kept everything the lawyer sent me. It’s all at home.”
“I’ll walk with you. I’ll look it over tonight and, if you’d like, make a few phone calls tomorrow. I can’t guarantee anything, but I think you need a second opinion.” He shot her a small smile. “Assuming, of course, you want to be done with this. And him.”
That spark of hope caught fire, and she pushed to her feet. “Let’s go.” Gathering her stuff, she said, “I’d really appreciate anything you could
do. I’m thrilled you even want to try. I’m so tired of just sitting around waiting. I know Helena probably played a future-sister-in-law card for this, but I’m so—”
Adam was shaking his head. “Actually, Tate called me.”
She stumbled a little. Way for Tate to prove her wrong. He’d said he would have tried to help, and sure enough, he’d come up with a way. She’d decided earlier today that she needed to call Mr. McCallan and try to light a fire under him, but she hadn’t thought to simply get a second opinion. Maybe she would have, once she was thinking straight again.
He steadied her on her feet. “I told him it was a horrible violation of your privacy—”
“No, it’s much appreciated. Just a little surprising.”
“Why? He’s got a vested interest in your divorce. I can easily see why he’d want to help you get it done and dusted.”
Adam must not know how angry Tate was with her. But then why would Tate involve himself? “Maybe.”
All this new, bubbly hope put a spring in her step, and the walk back to her house could not have been more different from the trip out this morning.
She’d dreaded today, yet it had turned out pretty darn good in the end.
Then, exactly like on her last really good day, Mark showed up to ruin it, his SUV sitting in front of Mrs. Kennedy’s house where she’d see it the moment she turned onto her street. She should have expected it, really, but she’d held on to the hope that since Mark wasn’t hanging around Latte Dah or trying to contact her, that must have meant he’d left town. After all, she’d been clear she wasn’t going home to Fuller, and he’d achieved his goal of humiliating her, so what was really left for him to do? “God damn it.” Mark must have been watching for her, because the door opened almost immediately and he climbed out of his SUV.
Adam looked over at her. “He just shows up everywhere, doesn’t he?”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I’m not a criminal attorney, either, but I will strongly advise you not to do that.”
The levity helped, and she had to choke back a laugh.
Then Mark opened his mouth. “Another one, Molly? How many lovers do you have?”
It wasn’t even worth addressing. “Why are you even still in town?”
“We still have a lot to talk about.”
“No, we don’t.” She turned to Adam. “Can you get me a restraining order against him?”
Adam nodded. “First thing in the morning.”
“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Mark snapped. “It’s not enough that I can’t get a decent meal or a place to stay in this town?”
Confused, she looked at Adam.
He merely shrugged a shoulder. “A lot of folks have taken exception to some of Mr. Lane’s comments and behavior. Many of the local businesses are exercising their right to refuse service.”
It took everything she had to keep a straight face, but inside . . . Oh, that was just too sweet. She could picture Mark being turned away from places, stomping his feet and getting all bothered.
That giddiness, though, was quickly replaced by a surge of emotion that made her eyes burn. Mark was being turned away because of her. This was her town, her people, and they had her back. She might have screwed up, and they might be disappointed in her, but by God, they still had her back. Mark, her family, and Fuller, Alabama, as a whole could just suck it. “Maybe you should take that as a sign that you’re not welcome here. Go home.”
“Oh, I am. But I wanted to give you one last chance—”
“I don’t want it.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” His smile was smug, and that warned her she wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve always wanted a coffee shop.”
There was no way she heard that right. “What?”
“We’re still married. I’m entitled to half of it in a divorce settlement.”
Rage boiled through her veins. “You’re insane.” Adam put a hand on her—to calm or restrain, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care either way as she shook him off. “My inheritance from my grandmother provided the seed money for Latte Dah. You can’t lay claim to a single freaking coffee cup.”
“You left a loving marriage, selling joint marital property to move away with your lover—or lovers”—he sneered—“supporting yourself with the proceeds of those sales while you opened your business. That gives me a claim. My lawyer will be in touch.”
This time, Adam’s restraining hand was the only thing that kept her from flying at him. Mark merely smirked, pleased to have the last word, as he climbed back into his car and drove away.
“I’ll burn the place to the ground first,” she muttered.
“Calm down,” Adam urged. “That’s the most ridiculous claim I’ve ever heard. He won’t get any part of Latte Dah.”
“Oh, I know he can’t touch it. My inheritance is mine and was never part of the joint assets. The only property I sold was jewelry purchased for and given to me. I’ve read the laws about joint marital assets, and I know I’m in the clear. It’s just another threat and more stupid paperwork to fight, though. But that’s the final damn straw. I’m done. He will not threaten Latte Dah.”
She turned to face him. Still buoyed by the day’s events, she felt stronger than she ever had. But Mark’s petty, vindictive threats had also made her angrier than she’d ever been.
“It’s time to end this,” she said through gritted teeth. “Find me a lawyer who’ll make it happen.”
“One that can make him cry?” Adam teased.
She stomped up the porch steps. “That would just be a bonus.”
Chapter 16
The worst thing about living in a small town was that it was damn near impossible to avoid someone. Short of locking yourself in and becoming a hermit, if your paths crossed before, the odds were very good they would cross again. And again.
While creating uncomfortable situations, those odds did tend to keep things from festering too long. There was no ignoring a problem until it went away.
But the fact that this wasn’t happening—which had to be a first in Magnolia Beach—was making Tate tense and jumpy. He knew Molly was going about her business—Sam or Helena would have told him if Molly wasn’t—but he never saw her. After a couple of days, he had to assume it was deliberate. At the same time, he wasn’t exactly wandering into Latte Dah for a coffee, either. He wasn’t quite sure yet what he wanted to say to Molly when he did see her, so while it was odd, it was also sort of a relief.
It was also amazing to realize how quickly he’d gotten used to a new status quo in just a couple of weeks. Fun texts for no reason, having someone to go to lunch or dinner with, and yes, wandering into Latte Dah for a coffee just because he wanted to see her. The depressing thing was how much he noticed that lack now and how much he disliked it. There was a hole, and he had nothing to fill it with.
The thing was, that hole had always been there; he just hadn’t noticed it until now.
He wasn’t sure how to fix it, though. And since thinking about the situation made his head hurt, he kept himself extra busy simply to avoid having to think about it.
Helena hadn’t been hovering exactly, but she’d made herself very available. It was clear she wanted to talk to him, and he’d made it very clear that he didn’t, so they’d spent the last few days in an awkward standoff. She might be his best friend, but he wasn’t going to eat cookie dough and talk about relationships and girls and boys. That had never been their style and he had no interest in starting now.
So the days passed in what felt like an uneasy cease-fire, which was a crazy feeling since life had essentially gone back to its normal pre-Molly state almost instantly.
And that was another reason he didn’t want to talk to Helena. He blamed her for this. She’d started it all by throwing him into Molly’s orbit in the first place. If she’d left well enough alone, he wouldn’t even have a pre – and post-Molly state of being to deal with at all.
So Molly
was mad at him for being mad at her, Helena was mad at him for not wanting to talk about it, and Sam was mad at him for a multitude of reasons. At least Iona was happy with him again. She’d brought him two kinds of cookies.
He knew, though, that Helena wasn’t going to put up with his silence for very long, so he wasn’t really all that surprised to find her on his porch, unannounced and letting herself in like she owned the place after just a few days. She was not known for her patience—or her ability to butt the hell out, either. He was only delaying the inevitable by avoiding her, so they might as well get this over with.
And Helena was not one to mince words.
“I’ve held my peace, given you space and all that, but enough. I love you—you know that—but you’re acting like a dumbass.”
Only in Helena’s mind could four days be considered “space.” “And the space has been much appreciated. Could I have a little more?”
“No. This is ridiculous. If you ask me—”
“I didn’t,” he reminded her.
She frowned at him, but she wasn’t backing down. “I’m not taking sides.”
“Dumbass pronouncements notwithstanding, of course.”
She met his sarcasm with snark. “I had no idea your ego was quite that fragile.”
“My ego?” This had nothing to do with ego.
“So you were embarrassed. Are you honestly going to tell me it was worse than that time in tenth grade when you—”
“Don’t bring that up. You swore you’d never speak of it again.”
Her lips pressed into an angry line as she stared at him. “Well, is it?” she demanded.
On days like today, he wished she’d just stayed in Atlanta. “It’s different, Helena, and has nothing to do with this situation. You’re forgetting that I was publicly broadsided by information I really should have known going in.”
“She said she tried to explain—”
“She’s married.”
“She’s separated. Almost divorced.”
Good Lord. “You’re as bad as she is with the hairsplitting.”
Helena slapped a hand against the couch. “He hit her.”
Jesus. Molly had left that part out. Or glossed it over, at the very least. It made him ill, and not just because Molly was about half Mark’s size. “I’m not saying she shouldn’t be divorcing him. It’s just information she could have—should have—shared up front.”
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