Mollywood (Carved Hearts #2)

by L. G. Pace III

  “Molly, where do you want the baby swings?” My mother called, shuffling in the front door. I had to take a deep cleansing breath.

  “How about in the nursery, ma?” I called, trying to curb my sarcasm. The sound of my brothers clattering around in the very next room set my teeth on edge.

  “Do you think we should go ahead and assemble them? That way Joe doesn’t have to later?” She hobbled in my direction, already holding one of the instruction manuals, “Think they’ll both fit in that little room?’

  “Mom! Let the movers unload everything before you set anything up, alright?” I heard the front door open and spotted Kelly and Francis who’d just wandered inside. Francis held four pizza boxes and Kelly had two cases of Coke.

  “Over here, y’all!” I called, forcing a smile as I waved them in my direction. “Go on out onto the back patio. Joe has heaters set up and there are plenty of tables and seating.

  I watched as Mac and Kelly practically ran face first into one another. Kelly leapt back as if Mac were a leper and practically bolted from the room. Francis frowned and looked from Mac to Kelly’s retreating form before following her out of the room.

  “Damn. It’s a tad bit nippy in here, isn’t it?” Mason commented. “I knew there was a cold front coming thru, but I thought that was supposed to be tonight.”

  “Shut up.” Mac replied.

  “Go after her, Mac. Or are you too chicken shit?” I chided. I brought my hand to my lips, as if my pointed pun hadn’t been intentional. “Too soon?”

  Mason nearly pissed himself laughing, but I felt bad when I saw the truly crestfallen expression on Mac’s face.

  “Molly.” My mother’s authoritative voice snapped my head in her direction. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

  “What?”

  “Should we unpack your bathroom?” I saw Granny appear over her shoulder.

  “Fine, do whatever. Christ!” I blurted.

  Mom threw up her hands and retreated toward the nursery. Two strong hands touched my shoulders and slid down to encircle me from behind.

  “Havin’ fun, baby?” Joe’s low voice helped pull my irritation needle out of the red and I wiggled around to face him.

  “I’m not sure I can take much more of this.” I murmured into his ear as he held me close. Graham had led Francis and Kelly out to the back patio where they were plating up pizza. Thankfully, we were alone. Even so, I didn’t want to take the chance of starting any drama so I kept my voice down.

  “Then let me deal with it and you can go back to our place with Robin. She is about ready to kill Mason anyway. He got paint in her hair somehow. He said it was an accident, but she still wants blood.” It was an attractive offer and I almost took him up on it. Then I had a mental image of my mother trying to decorate my house and I groaned.

  The front door slammed and Robbie and Tamryn appeared brandishing beer, napkins, and paper plates. The loaded look that Joe and Tamryn exchanged was nothing short of acrid.

  “The moving truck is here.” Tamryn announced, striding past her brother into the kitchen to put the beer in my fantastic new fridge. “They need you to move your car.”

  I allowed myself another ten full seconds nuzzled up against Joe’s stubble covered cheek. In a hushed tone, I whispered. “Be nice.”

  “Really, babe. You should go rest.” He tilted my chin so that I had to look him in the eye.

  “I can go move it for you.” Robbie offered, clearly picking up what Joe was throwing down.

  “I’ll go move it. I need a little air” I replied, seeing the tension in Tamryn’s shoulders from across the room. I pulled Joe closer for a moment and whispered in his ear. “I think you should talk to your sister.”

  His eyes shifted momentarily to Tamryn and he gave me an apprehensive nod. Heading outside, I trundled down the stairs and waved to the hulking moving men. “Sorry, I’m moving it now!”

  I parked the Cooper down the street and as I climbed out, I looked up at the overcast sky. So far it hadn’t rained, but I suspected we were on borrowed time. Hurrying back toward the house, I figured I’d have a slice of pizza with the nieces and nephews before I started supervising the movers.

  “Hey, there!” A high pitched, nasal voice penetrated my thoughts. I stopped at the bottom of the steps, turning to look behind me. A svelte blonde with fairy tale princess hair waved cheerfully from the porch next door. I glanced down at my navy blue sweats and placed a hand on my messy ponytail. I tried very hard not to care that I looked a mess. I saw that she’d turned back to her door and gestured franticly to someone inside her house.

  The man who stepped out after her had the weathered look of someone who spent a lot of time outside. His salt and pepper hair spoke of age that wasn’t reflected in his muscled frame.

  “Welcome to the neighborhood!” She called as they drew near. I realized that she was older than I first thought, probably in her late thirties at least, maybe older. “I’m Penny Madsen. This is my husband, Frank

  “Hi, I’m Molly.” I replied, smiling uncomfortably as I shook her hand. As I took her husband’s hand the babies chose the moment to do some sort of acrobatic maneuver inside me. I gripped my mid-section, practically falling off my feet in surprise. Frank steadied me, his tanned forehead wrinkling with concern.

  “Are you alright? Should I get your husband?” Penny cawed, in a voice that could shatter glass.

  “I’m fine.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the moment. I stood tall to show that I was stable and hopefully move the conversation along.

  I heard a door smack shut behind me and saw Joe hurrying in our direction. Internally, I groaned, suspecting they’d talk at us twice as long if we were both here.

  “What’s wrong?” He demanded, wrapping a concerned arm around me and ignoring the couple from next door.

  I gave him a reassuring grin. “The twins were having a fight and it got a little violent.”

  “Twins! Bless your heart!” Penny shrilly jumped head first into our conversation. She gave me an unsolicited hug, and turned her appraising eyes expectantly on Joe.

  “This is Joe.” I said as if it was an afterthought. “Joe…these are the Madsen’s from next door.”

  Joe and Frank nodded at each other and shook hands, and I noticed Penny adding a flirty hair toss when she shook Joe’s hand. We suffered through a few minutes of polite conversation. We quickly learned the couple had lived in the neighborhood for fifteen years and had two high school age daughters that were very active in extracurricular activities. Penny was a stay at home mom and Frank was some important guy in the oils business who traveled three weeks a month.

  Ready for this grating cougar to stop undressing Joe with her eyes, I explained that we had a house full of family and movers who no doubt needed guidance. Frank smiled empathetically, and before I knew it, we’d accepted an invitation to dinner after the insanity of the move had died down. With a silent wave, they headed back toward their house. As I took the stairs, I watched Frank give Penny a kiss and cross to the street. He climbed into a large, newer pickup truck with an oil company logo on the side and drove away.

  “They seem friendly.” Joe remarked, waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

  “That’s an understatement.” I whispered. “She kept staring at my nose ring.”

  I noticed a backward glance from Penny. For a fleeting moment I wondered if she’d heard me, and realized the idea was ludicrous.

  As we came in the front door, I heard Francis’ voice coming from the room we planned to use as an office.

  “…now I don’t know what happened, All I know is, she seemed very excited that you were taking her out and she’d been awfully quiet ever since.”

  “Francis, listen—”

  “No, you listen.” I’d heard Francis raise his voice before, but this was different. Yes, he sounded angry, but with a desperate undertone that stopped me cold. “I let her down, Mac. I set this precedent, and I can’t take it back. If you don’t really have se
rious intentions, you ought to do the right thing and stay away.”

  Joe turned to me, his mossy eyes flashing with concern and apprehension. I held a finger up in front of my lips. I didn’t really know where Francis planned to go with his little talk with my brother, but it sounded like it was heartfelt. I didn’t want to intrude on something that was none of my business. Joe seemed to understand this and we tiptoed through the house and out the back door to join the pizza party already in progress.

  “I can’t believe it’s our first Christmas and I’m going to spend it without my husband.” Stacy sighed glumly, and I felt my cheeks grow hot. Dr. Myers had advised me not to travel and I’d sent Sanchez out of town earlier in the week to train the staff for the Galveston location. He was supposed to leave directly from there and go to New Orleans to help set up the kitchen and interview staff.

  Stacy had hinted, in her subtle as a billboard manner, that she wanted to go along. She could have been useful to them, but I needed her with me. We’d had a surprising amount of business considering the time of year. A senator had requested we special cater a committee meeting he was chairing at the state capitol building. He was one of our die hard regulars and he was obsessed with my lemon bars, which I named The Sour Puss. He also wanted me to make enough Cranky Carpenter Wraps for everyone there. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

  Then there was Stacy’s bright idea to announce on Facebook and Twitter that we’d do special dessert orders for the holidays. I’d been baking mini Derby and cherry pies and some of my other signature desserts around the clock in the commercial kitchen I rented and the truck itself.

  Thankfully, the other employees were all happy for the extra pre-holiday overtime since we’d taken a vote and decided to be closed from Christmas Eve until January second. Even Isaac and Stacy, who didn’t cook, helped package the treats in festive wrapping. They also pulled orders off email and took them over the phone. We were in the final push, as it was December 23rd. The cold and damp weather was keeping most people away from the food truck. Almost everyone we’d seen all day had come to pick up their baked goods orders. Though a few got tempted and ordered lunches. After two, the crowd completely died and we’d let Carly go home early. We’d spent the next two hours cleaning the truck from top bottom for the long break and I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  “Stacy I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help these past few days. I know you are bummed about not spending time with Dirty S. But hopefully my present will help cheer you up.” I said, pulling out an envelope and handing it to her.

  “Molly…you didn’t need to…” She began, but gasped when she opened the envelope and saw a plane ticket and cash inside.

  “Of course I did.” I replied as she jumped up and down and hugged me. “If it weren’t for y’all I’d be screwed.

  Stacy fanned the envelope in front of her eyes as if it would stop the tears pooling there. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be working in that stupid sports bar in a push up bra having my ass grabbed 24/7.”

  “No you wouldn’t. You’re too smart and creative for that. David told me it was your idea about the café and the merchandise.” Her eyes flew wide and she went pale. David admitted during a conference call that Stacy had been a resource for all of his market information about Wrapgasmic. Many of the great features about the Galveston location had actually been her idea, including the t-shirts and merchandise. Fortunately, he’d let this information slip before we signed the contracts and I was able to have Robbie make one final change.

  I smiled to myself when I thought about the other surprise I had in store for Stacy and Sanchez. They’d learn about it in an email that would be delivered to them Christmas morning. I’d arranged that three percent of everything I made from Galveston and New Orleans to be deposited into their account. Three seemed like the perfect number, with us being the three musketeers and all.

  “You’re not mad, are you?” She said, twirling a strand of hair tightly around her finger. “Molly, I swear I didn’t know he was already building the place, I just told him about the profit margin difference between the truck with and without the bar and mentioned how cool it would be to sell merchandise, since people are always asking if they can buy our shirts. Then he asked to take me to dinner the night of the 5-K so he could pick my brain. It seemed a little weird, but I learned in my online business class it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. When he started asking me about who did your website and to talk him through our Twitter and Facebook, I started to get nervous.”

  I nodded, long over any feelings of betrayal that may have flickered at the time. I knew Stacy always had my interests at heart as well as her own. It wasn’t her fault that David had actually put the ideas into place before getting my okay. I suppose he had the same lesson she had in business class.

  Stacy glanced at the plane ticket and squealed. “Oh my God! I’m meeting him in New Orleans tomorrow! Christmas Eve in the French Quarter. That’s so romantic! Does he know I’m coming?”

  “Nope” I took a sip of my sweet tea, and sighed happily. It was such a refreshing change to have a slow day. “That’s his Christmas present. They’re putting him up in a four star hotel, so it should be really nice. I stuck a copy of his itinerary in there so you can surprise him at the hotel.”

  “I can’t wait. I have to go home and pack! What’s this money for?” She asked, clearly shocked and delighted.

  I shrugged. “Buy something naughty to wear for him.”

  She tilted her head to the side and the tears she’d been staving off started up. “Molly, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll lock up the truck so I can get home to Joe. He promised we’d take a break from hanging pictures and organizing the damn house. Tonight, I just want to drink cocoa and watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’”

  As I drove down the surprisingly vacant streets, I allowed the full weight of work to drop away. What landed in its place was the very real fact that it was our anniversary. One year ago today my ex-husband’s crazy ass was hauled off to jail and Joe asked me to move in with him. It seemed impossible to believe that it had been so long ago, but as I did the math and broke it down by milestones it added up. You know that they say. “Life is what’s happens while you’re busy making plans.”

  I pulled into the driveway of the house and saw Joe’s truck parked out front on the street. As I turned off the ignition, Joe came out the front door and shot me a naughty look.

  “Hey there little girl. You’re home a little earlier than I thought. Want to go take a nap with me?” The exaggerated wink he gave me made me laugh even as his words sent a rush through my body. Letting him help me out of the car, I pulled him against me, reveling in the feeling of holding him.

  “Mmmmm,” I groaned in pleasure. “You have no idea how good it feels to be home in your arms.” Taking him by the hand, I led him inside where it was warm. Sitting on the couch, I admired how cool it looked settled in its spot in our new yellow living room. He pulled my boots off and spent twenty minutes rubbing my feet and listening to me prattle on about my day. He chimed in that the shop was running like a well-tuned machine, and that Nick and Mac had somehow developed a decent working relationship. When I told him about Stacy’s reaction to the present, he got quiet. For a minute I thought he was going to lecture me for throwing money away.

  “Baby,” he murmured. “You’re so good to the people around you. Sometimes I wonder how I ever got so lucky.”

  I was about to object and counter that I was the lucky one when he twisted his thumb under the arch of my foot. His technique evoked a moan of pure pleasure from me.

  “Mostly, I use you for getting things off tall shelves. And for foot rubs. And for other dirty things.” He responded with a seductive smile and ran his hands further up my legs. His mouth hungrily found mine, and the foot rub quickly dissolved into a completely different kind of rubbing. Once again, Carpenter Joe demonstrated how tal
ented his hands were, amongst other things. I did my best to show my appreciation, and to reciprocate.

  After we’d redressed and regrouped, we cuddled under a blanket and discussed our apprehension about the upcoming holiday festivities. Tamryn had graciously offered her house for Christmas dinner. For everyone…both the Hildebrandts and the Jensens. She was clear that she wanted a Mulligan for Thanksgiving. Surprisingly, everyone agreed to come. As usual, she was having it catered, so I was only on the hook for a few desserts. I cheated and had the staff make a few more than we needed for our orders, so I could truly relax.

  “What sounds good for dinner, Joe?” I ran through my mental inventory, revisiting what we had in the pantry and calculating a couple of different things I could make us. Not that I was looking forward to getting up off the couch. Joe slid from beneath me, ignoring my cry of protest.

  “Don’t you worry about dinner. I got it covered.” I heaved a sigh of relief and snuggled back down into the couch. I heard him in the other room flipping through the binder and then talking on the phone.

  Grabbing the remote, I flipped through the channels looking for a good holiday show to watch and settled on ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’. Joe came back in a few minutes later and hunkered down in front of me.

  “I have to go outside and take care of a few things in the yard. You stay in here and relax for a bit, okay?” I stuck my lip out and shook my head, trying to pull him back onto the couch with me.

  “No, come back and snuggle with me. You promised.” Kissing my forehead he easily resisted the force I exerted on him.

  “I know, but first I need to clean up a few things outside so that the delivery guy doesn’t break his neck on the way up the walk. Plus, I want to make sure everything out there is put away so we can focus on relaxing. Sound like a plan?”