Molly gave her a dose of her own medicine. “Hey, you make fun of me! You look like they’re leaving for Siberia or something.”
Lifting a shoulder, Lily said, “It’s just that Riley seems so—adult. I know it comes and goes on the wind, but the adult days are beginning to outweigh the irrational ones. Two years and he’ll be in college.”
“He and Clay seem to be getting along pretty well.”
Lily bit her lip. “Today. It falls in the same category as Riley’s mature behavior, changes minute by minute.” She sighed almost imperceptibly. “I thought things would be running smoothly by now.”
“Hey, with teenagers, I don’t think it’s ever smooth.”
Smiling, Lily nodded. Then she said, “I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday. But I really can’t take on Nicholas right now.”
“I’m the one who should apologize. It was unfair of me. It’s just . . . nothing is working out the way I’d imagined.”
Lily looked deep into Molly’s eyes. “Hey, nothing ever works out the way you plan once you have a child. Get used to it.”
There was an undercurrent to Lily’s words that made Molly wonder if things perhaps weren’t as idyllic in Lily’s household as they appeared. Before she could question further, Lily picked Nicholas up out of the pumpkin seat. “I think he’s grown since yesterday.”
Molly laughed. “I doubt that very much. But he is pushing ten pounds.”
Lily gave Nicholas a couple of manly grunts. “Gonna be a football player?”
Molly covered her eyes. “God forbid! All I can see are broken collar bones, concussions, and blown-out knees.” She let her sister off the hook and didn’t try to get them back on the topic of her family. Lily never liked to talk about her problems—which oftentimes led one to believe there were no problems. The fact that Lily had hinted at things being imperfect was quite a big step for her.
Molly said, “Finding a sitter is turning out to be impossible. Do you have any suggestions? I’d feel better if I could give a sitter a bit of a test run before leaving the baby for a twelve-hour shift.” The very thought of it drove away Molly’s appetite.
“Have you interviewed anyone yet?”
“No one I’d consider.” Then she said, “You wouldn’t believe who Brian Mitchell has me interviewing on Monday.”
“Brian?” Lily asked with a suggestive lilt and raised brows.
“God, it’s great to be back in a small town.” Gossip, no privacy . . . heaven on earth. Then she explained, “I ran into him last night at Papa’s.”
“He’s single again, you know.”
“Jesus, Lily! I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”
“I’m just saying. . . .”
Molly looked at the baby in Lily’s arms from under her brows. “And need I mention I have a new baby?”
“Brian likes babies.”
Molly sighed in exasperation. “Can we get back on the subject? He actually suggested Hattie Grissom! Can you imagine?”
“Why not?”
“You can’t be serious! She’s ancient. She’s never had children. She’s probably nuts. Need any more negatives than that?”
Lily put Nicholas up on her shoulder and patted his bottom. “It might work. She’s not that old. In fact, she looks quite a bit younger now that her husband isn’t mentally beating her into the ground every day. It’s not like she didn’t want children. She had several babies who didn’t live. And she’s worked in the infant care nursery at church forever. I have to admit, she’s not long on conversation with adults, but I’ve seen her with those babies. In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.”
“Babies that didn’t live? There’s another negative.”
“She couldn’t carry a pregnancy to term. I only know because since Ed’s death, Hattie’s been the center of several discussions—everyone wants to help her. This could be just the thing for both of you. Try to keep an open mind when you meet her.”
“I’ll try.”
“Hello, Dr. Boudreau.”
Molly turned around to see Mickey Fulton standing behind her with a plate of spaghetti and a can of Coke. “Mickey!” She didn’t see anyone with the girl. “Would you like to sit with us?” Molly pointed to the empty chair across from Riley’s coat.
Mickey looked over her shoulder. Then she said, “If you don’t mind. My mom’s talking to Mr. Mitchell. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her for a while.”
Lily said, “Well, have a seat.”
Mickey sat down and looked at the baby. “Hey, Nicholas, you sweet boy, you.”
“Mickey babysat with Nicholas last night while I went shopping.”
“That’s right, you’re neighbors,” Lily said. “We haven’t seen much of you out at the farm lately, Mickey. You should come by, I’ve got some great new pot designs.” She turned to Molly, “Sometimes, Mickey does some of the hand-painting and glazing for me.”
Mickey nodded, but seemed totally engrossed in her spaghetti—at least with moving it around on her plate.
Riley and Clay returned. Molly noticed Riley hesitate before taking his seat across from Mickey.
Lily said, “Aren’t you going to say hello?”
Riley’s fork twirled in his spaghetti, his concentration centered there. “Hi.”
Mickey didn’t look up when she offered her quiet “Hi” in return.
There was definitely something afoot between these two. Molly didn’t have a great deal of information on Riley’s social life, but she did know that Mickey had been his first friend when he moved to Glens Crossing. From what Lily had said, she suspected a romantic relationship at one time. Now they were two icebergs passing in the night.
The uneasiness between the teenagers hung in the air like a noxious cloud.
Just as Molly thought that, Lily said, “Uh-oh. Somebody needs a diaper.”
So maybe the teenagers weren’t the source of the noxious cloud.
Molly put out her hands for Lily to hand her the baby.
Mickey stood up. “I’ll go change him. I can use the teachers’ lounge.”
“Oh, Mickey, you don’t want this one,” Molly argued.
Lily said, “Never turn down someone’s offer to change a diaper. By the time he’s potty trained, you’ll be willing to pay strangers to do it.”
Molly passed the baby on to Mickey. “You’re sure?”
“Hey, a little poop never killed anyone.” She picked up the diaper bag and went toward the door at the side of the cafeteria.
Molly said, “Yeah, that’s what she thinks.”
Lily and Clay chuckled.
Riley acted as if the entire conversation hadn’t transpired.
When Mickey returned, she handed Nicholas to Molly and picked up her barely touched dinner. “Thanks for letting me sit with you.”
The three adults urged her to stay and, when she wasn’t swayed, said a pleasant good-bye. Riley was silent. In fact he didn’t even look up from his food.
As Dean entered the cafeteria from the street doors, he saw Brian Mitchell just inside. He was speaking to an attractive woman in her early thirties who appeared far more taken with the conversation than Brian did.
Dean stayed out of Brian’s line of sight as he scanned the crowd. He didn’t particularly want to be dragged into a conversation at the moment. He had his own agenda this evening.
He’d seen the notice of the spaghetti supper in the local paper. Of course, any reporter looking to cover small town minutiae wouldn’t miss such an event. Thus, his presence served two purposes, both valuable; the second being of more interest, however. By being here, he validated his cover story; his secondary objective was to run into Molly Boudreau again. He really needed to get a better handle on her. Everything he read in her personality and character was contradictory to his preconception of her. But then, just when he began to decide she wasn’t any more than she appeared on the surface, she’d do something totally off-base like her non-reaction to his mentioning the u
nexpected death of a friend. A part of him prayed that she was just a single mother looking for a place to raise her child—even if it did leave him at a dead end in the search for his sister’s killer. He was really beginning to like Molly.
The cafeteria was crammed with people sitting, standing, and milling around, making it difficult to pick out any single target. Jittery kids scurried up and down the aisles as they waited for parents to finish eating and visiting. A couple of ladies were walking around with baskets, passing out breadsticks. Just as he was about to give up, he saw a tall blond girl. It was the pale color of her hair that captured his attention. It was the same near-white shade as Julie’s. The sight gave his heart an unexpected jolt.
Julie had always been easy to pick out in a crowd because the rare color of her hair was matched with fair skin, and light brows and lashes—a natural blond always stands out.
When he calmed his heart, he saw the girl was standing right next to Molly—another woman who stood out in a group with her near-black hair, dark, gracefully-arched brows and silver eyes. The fact that she appeared to be totally unaware of her striking looks stirred grudging admiration in him. It was a rare trait in beautiful women.
His gaze cut briefly to the woman speaking to Brian, who clearly capitalized on her appearance with every gesture and every nuance of her conversation. Dean had always had a deep aversion for such women. He supposed it was because, in his work, he’d learned to value those who are true of heart above all else.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when everyone at Molly’s table appeared to be moving. Dean needed to thread his way across the big room before they left. He could hardly chase the woman out the door.
He hadn’t taken two steps when he heard Brian call his name.
Dean turned around, but tried to preserve his momentum. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hold on for just a second, I want you to meet someone.” Brian’s lips said the words, his eyes screamed, Save me!
Dean cast another glance toward Molly’s table. They seemed to be settling back in after handing around the baby. He put on a smile and forced his nervous feet to stand still.
Brian said, “Karen Fulton—”
She interrupted him. “I go by Kimball now.” Then she added, “Since my divorce.”
Brian tilted his head in apology. “Karen Kimball, meet Dean Coletta. He’s the one I was telling you about, doing the story on American towns.”
Karen extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Dean.”
“Ms. Kimball.” He shook her hand. Probably too soon for politeness, his eyes left her face and looked over her shoulder to make sure Molly was still there.
She glanced behind her. Then back at Dean. “Looking for someone?”
Dean slipped on what he hoped was a charming smile. “No. I noticed Dr. Boudreau over there . . . she and I have a conversation to finish.”
“Oh,” Karen sounded disappointed. “I thought you’d be more interested in interviewing people who actually live here.”
He bowed slightly. “Everyone has a unique perspective. I’m looking to hear all of them.”
“Well, I suppose her ‘perspective’ might be interesting, being raised on the ‘wrong side of the tracks,’ so to speak.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “She lived over the tavern—her mother was trash . . . ran off with some man when Molly was just a baby. It’s really no wonder she’s an unmarried mother herself now.”
Where did this woman get on her high horse? Dean didn’t know why he was tempted to defend the doctor, but it burned him to hear her cast such a derogatory slur on Molly. He was ready to put Karen Kimball in her place. He’d been in town long enough to hear that her ex was sitting in jail for drug dealing.
Luckily, Brian prevented his attack by saying, “You’ve met Benny . . . at the Crossing House.”
Dean pretended this was news to him. “Oh, that’s her father.” Then he emphasized, “A real nice gentleman.” He looked sharply at Karen, “Before long, I’ll get all of the interconnections around here.”
A dark look crossed Karen’s face. Quickly she recovered her smile. “Well, you know, we can’t always be judged by what our family does. . . .”
Dean maintained the intensity of his glare. “I’ve never held that misconception. A person should be judged by their actions and their actions alone.” He’d had to remind himself of that repeatedly since meeting the young doctor. Her quiet demeanor, her caring attitude, could easily be manufactured to disguise her actions. And she was good at it; his own urge to defend her was evidence of that. Once again, he felt like he was chasing his own tail.
He said to Karen, “If you’ll excuse me. I need to catch the doctor before she leaves.” He started to walk away.
Brian said, “Remind her that I’ll be by Monday morning around eleven.”
Dean’s gaze snapped back to Brian, and he saw that Karen’s surprised eyes moved to him also. Brian and Molly had a date? After a pause that broadcasted he didn’t care for the idea, Dean said, “Will do.”
When he stepped up behind Molly and said hello, she turned, looking truly pleased to see him. He caught himself feeling just as pleased that she was smiling at him.
“Hi. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you—this kind of thing,” she gestured to the crowd around them, “is pretty much what it’s all about around here.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I suppose everyone is here?”
Molly laughed. “The town isn’t that small. But they do have quite a basketball following, so it’s a good crowd.”
Dean didn’t miss the fact that she spoke as an outsider—“the” town as opposed to “our” town . . . “they” have a following.
Molly introduced him to Lily and Clay, then offered him the seat the blond girl had just vacated. “Have you eaten?”
Dean pulled out the chair and sat. He patted his stomach. “After that huge piece of cherry pie this afternoon, no pasta for me.” Then he said to Lily, “I bet you’ve really been looking forward to having your sister move back.”
“Well, to tell you the truth, it was a surprise.”
“Oh?”
Molly spoke before Lily could say more. “I didn’t tell anyone in advance—get their hopes up. I didn’t make my mind up firmly until after Nicholas was born. What they say is true—you don’t really understand how you’re going to feel about being a parent until that baby is laid in your arms. It’s . . . overwhelming. Once he was here, I knew I wanted him to be raised around family—in a place like this.” The words tumbled out in an unconvincing rush.
Her tone was off, it sounded . . . practiced. Something had triggered this move for Molly—something that she obviously didn’t want anyone to know. Dean wondered briefly if it had to do with her baby’s father. But the idea of Molly and another man was suddenly unsettling to him.
Ridiculous. Focus on your objective, man. It bothered him that the more time he spent with Molly, the fuzzier that objective became.
Chapter 11
Molly was impressed with the easy way Dean slid into conversation with her family. Even though he asked so many questions about her it nearly set off a blush, she couldn’t help but feel flattered by his interest. It was as if he really wanted to know her in depth, not just gather facts for a magazine article. As they chatted, he frequently cast smiling glances her way. Glances that made something shift inside her, a tiny molecular earthquake. She began to have such a good time she forgot to look to see if gossipers were still casting surreptitious glances her way.
Dean and Clay seemed to hit it off—which for some reason pleased her. And when Dean discovered that Lily and Clay and Riley were on the clean-up committee, he offered to help Molly carry the baby seat and diaper bag to her car. Suddenly, her insides felt just like they had when Andy Jacobi had asked her if he could walk her home from the eighth grade dance.
She tried to calm her reaction; she was much too old for such fanciful and impetuous fee
lings.
“I should be an independent woman and decline,” she said, pleased that her voice sounded like a grownup and not a hormonally charged teenager. “But my back is killing me. So, here.” She hung the diaper bag on his shoulder. He picked up the seat with his left hand. They said good-bye to Lily’s family and left the cafeteria.
“So, you went to high school here?” Dean asked as they walked slowly through the halls.
“I did. My brother and sister did. Probably ninety percent of the adults in that cafeteria did. My dad was in the first graduating class from this ‘new’ building.”
“Deep roots.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He said in a distracted tone, “These people probably know you better than anyone in Boston.”
She slowed. “I suppose that’s right.” She’d never thought of it that way; it did seem odd. She’d lived in Boston for ten years, yet she could tell him more about the people in that cafeteria who were no more than passing acquaintances than about anyone she knew in Boston.
The wall outside the principal’s office was lined with plaques. Dean stopped. “You on any of these?”
“A single-focused overachiever like me? You have to ask?” She couldn’t help but grin.
“Hmm. Let me see. . . .” He stepped closer, so he could read the names. “Probably not on ‘Boys Track and Field.’”
“No, but you’ll find my brother there for state champion in pole vault.”
“So, you’re not the only overachiever in the family.”
“Luke was athletically gifted—not academically dedicated.”
“Ooooh. Do I sense a little sibling rivalry?” He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “And with your brother.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m just stating the facts. Luke is a great guy, very bright, just didn’t like to study. Believe me, I’m not in the least jealous of his life.”
“What does he do?”
“Until recently, he was an army Ranger.”
“What made him give it up?”
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