Molly didn’t know what to say. She had been wrong to confide in him. She suddenly felt wrong about a lot of things and didn’t even understand why she was still sitting there.
“I’m sorry,” Matt said, and she could tell from his expression that he knew he had hurt her. “I should never have said that, Molly.”
“That’s okay. I asked you what you thought. And you told me.” She took a deep breath, not wanting him to see how upset she truly was. “Well, I’ve got to go. It’s getting late.”
She jumped to her feet and picked up her bag. “Thanks again for having the girls. It shouldn’t take too long if the flight is on time.”
Matthew followed her to the door. “Molly . . . please. Don’t go like this. I’m sorry I said that to you. This subject pushes some buttons for me, I guess.”
He paused and ran his hand through his hair. He was very handsome, and it annoyed her that now, after everything, she still felt so attracted to him.
“Do you have to go right now?” he asked. “I wish we could sit and talk more about this. I’m not sure you understand what I was trying to say.”
Molly zipped up her jacket and opened the front door.
“I understand. But I need to go. Thanks for the advice.” Then she turned and called up the stairs to her daughters, “Lauren, Jill . . . I’m leaving. See you later.”
Nobody answered. “They probably can’t hear you over the music. I’ll go up and get them.”
Molly shook her head. “That’s okay. Nobody seems to hear me lately.” She tried for a joking tone, but it didn’t quite come out that way.
Then she pulled open the door and left.
MATTHEW FELT TERRIBLE WATCHING MOLLY GO. BUT THERE WAS NOTHING he could do to stop her. He watched her get into her car and drive away, then he closed the door and walked back into the living room. He had planned to catch up on some reading tonight—his medical journals were piling up to the ceiling—but he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate now. He stretched out on the couch and stared at the ceiling, his arms folded under his head.
He cared for Molly. He had never meant to hurt her. He knew that under her tough, wisecracking act she was sensitive. It had cost her something to confide in him, and he had blown it. But he had to be honest with her. She clearly wasn’t being honest with herself. She clung to her anger at Phil like a badge of honor. She was so worried about how Phil’s behavior might hurt her daughters, she couldn’t see how her behavior already was hurting them. And hurting herself.
But she wasn’t ready to hear that, Matthew realized. Not from me, anyway. Little did she know that I’m a specialist with that particular affliction. If only she had stayed, maybe I could have explained that to her, showed her that I now know that anger like that is quicksand. You can get stuck. You can go under.
His marriage had been an emotional tug-of-war, too, the kind that nobody ever won. When he and his wife hit rough patches, he hadn’t faced up to them. He clung to his grievances, just as Molly was doing, feeling totally justified and totally unwilling to step beyond that square on the game board. He retreated even deeper into his work, which was exactly what Sharon always accused him of doing. He stuck with the marriage for Amanda’s sake while ignoring his wife’s unhappiness . . . and his own.
But when he was finally ready to look beyond his anger and try to work things out, they learned that Sharon had cancer—the swift and vicious variety. Her illness became the focus of their life together, her futile struggle to survive, his even more futile one to help her. He did everything he could, and he realized that he still loved her. But it was too late. They never grew truly close again, not even at the very end.
Now he was left with regrets, a heart and soul full of them. He should have given up his resentment and anger and tried to simply be happy. Happy and grateful for so much that was right in their life together, the blessings they did enjoy. It seemed so simple now. Why had it seemed so difficult then? So obscured?
Almost three years had passed since Sharon’s death. He thought by now he would have worked this all out. Everyone told him he had to forgive himself; he had to let go. But he couldn’t forgive himself. He couldn’t forget. He felt stuck, unable to change the past and undeserving of a future where he could be happy and feel love again.
He did what he could to get out of his rut. He moved from Worcester, changed his job, cut back his working hours. But they were all changes to the surface of his life. It was like getting a haircut to cure a headache, Matt thought cynically. And of course, what he really needed was some sort of spiritual healing.
He put his hand over his eyes to block the light from the reading lamp. With his eyes shut, his thoughts turned toward praying. He hadn’t done too much of that lately. Maybe that was part of his problem right there.
God, I’m sort of confused right now, he began. I didn’t mean to hurt Molly tonight. Please give me the chance to make it up to her somehow. Please let her be ready to listen when I talk to her, too. She’s such a wonderful person. I do care about her, more than I even want to sometimes. I hate to see her eaten up by her anger. Show her how to find forgiveness for Phil and freedom for herself. I know that’s what I need, too. But I can’t seem to get there either. Please help me. Show me what to do.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHENEVER MOLLY SAW EMILY WARWICK AROUND TOWN, SHE would say hello but would rarely stop to chat. Molly didn’t have much time for small talk, for one thing, and Emily was . . . well, Emily. She was the mayor of Cape Light, and Molly had always found her intimidating. Emily had manners, poise, and a certain way of speaking that made Molly feel like she was back in school, forced to talk with one of her teachers. Emily had, in fact, been a high-school English teacher before entering politics. Even having her brother Sam married to Emily’s sister hadn’t done much to dispel Molly’s apprehension.
But when they came face to face outside the Beanery on Monday afternoon, it just didn’t seem right to pass by without acknowledging the news of Emily’s engagement to Dan Forbes.
“Emily, congratulations! I saw Jessica over the weekend. She told me your good news.”
Molly wasn’t just trying to say the right thing. She did feel genuinely happy for Emily. It was hard not to once you saw her smile. “So, where’s the ring?” she added in a teasing tone.
Emily held out her hand, looking as if she felt silly but also proud.
It was stunning, Molly thought, a square-cut blue sapphire flanked by two small diamonds. Impressive yet tasteful, just like Emily. “It’s beautiful. I wish you the best.”
“Thank you, Molly. I appreciate your good wishes.” Emily smiled at her, then looked down at the ring. “I didn’t even think I wanted an engagement ring, but Dan practically dragged me to a jeweler and insisted I pick something out.”
Molly shook her head in mock sympathy. “I know what you mean. I hate when that happens.” Emily just laughed. “Have you and Dan set a wedding date?”
“Not yet. Sometime this summer, probably. Dan wants a honeymoon trip on his sailboat, so it can’t be too long off. I’m not much of a sailor, though,” she admitted. “But ‘in sickness and in health’ covers seasickness, too, I suppose.”
Now it was Molly’s turn to laugh. “Are you going in for lunch? I’m meeting Betty here. Want to join us?”
Now, how did that happen? Molly wondered. I guess I’m not as intimidated by Emily as I thought. Or maybe she’s nicer than I realized, once she relaxes a little.
“Oh, thanks, Molly. I can’t today. I have to get back to the office. But you just reminded me of something I want to ask you.”
What would Emily Warwick want to ask her? A recommendation on the best brand of silver polish?
“Betty told me you were starting a catering business, and I wondered if you would do an engagement party for me and Dan. It wouldn’t be anything huge. We were thinking of about fifty people. Well, maybe more like seventy-five. We both know so many people in town, it’s hard to keep control of the guest list.”
<
br /> Molly felt her eyes widen in shock but forced herself to keep a lid on her reaction. Which was, in fact, sheer panic. She couldn’t cater a party for seventy-five people. Especially the seventy-five people that Emily and Dan would invite, the cream of Cape Light society . . . if there was such a thing.
It was flattering, though, that Emily had even thought to ask her.
“It’s nice of you to think of me, Emily, but I really haven’t started the business yet. I’m just in the planning stages. I probably won’t be ready in time to do it for you.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Are you sure? You did such a great job with Jessica’s shower. The food, the flowers, everything was so beautiful. Are you sure you couldn’t manage it?”
Emily’s tone was so flattering and hopeful, Molly was tempted to reconsider. But Jessica’s bridal shower had only been a small gathering of women in Emily’s living room. Not a full-blown formal affair for seventy-five, which would probably grow to a guest list of over a hundred before Emily and Dan were through with it.
Molly glanced up at Emily, searching for the right words to politely decline. But before she could speak, Emily continued, “We’re flexible about the date. Maybe we could figure out something that works with your schedule. What if I call you during the week?”
“All right. That’s a good idea.” Molly nodded, not sure what she was getting herself into. Part of her wanted to jump for joy. If she could pull this off, it would be a quantum leap forward for her. But the other part of her, the larger part, shrank back in pure terror.
“Great. I’ll talk to you soon.” Emily gave her another cheery smile and headed up Main Street to the Village Hall.
Molly was just about to go in the Beanery when she saw Betty’s white Volvo pull up and park nearby.
“Sorry I’m late,” Betty said. “Waiting long? I tried to call you, but your phone isn’t on—”
“Just answer one question. Have you been telling everyone that I’ve started a catering business?”
Betty shrugged. “I may have mentioned it to a few people.”
“Like Emily Warwick?”
Betty looked so pleased with herself, Molly knew for sure it had been one of her little schemes. “Did she call you already? She’s so efficient. No wonder she’s mayor.”
“Look, I know you’re just trying to help me, but I can’t do a big party like that. I’m nowhere near ready for it.”
“Now, now. Just calm down. You need some lunch. Let’s go inside and talk about this.” Betty took her arm and led her through the door. Molly felt like a small child being coaxed out of a tantrum. She had a feeling that once Betty was through with her, she would be eating all her vegetables. Or rather figuring out the roasted vegetable platter for Emily’s party.
They were soon seated at a small table in the back of the café, and they quickly gave their orders.
Plenty of privacy, Molly thought gratefully. She hated to argue in public, and the look in Betty’s eye told her she wasn’t going to give up that easily on this.
“Did you see Emily’s ring?” Betty started off in a chatty tone. “It’s a beauty.”
“Absolutely,” Molly agreed flatly.
“She looks very happy. Dan does, too. For Dan, I mean.”
“And I’d hate to be the one to ruin it for them with an awful party. Why am I even discussing this at all? I couldn’t even attempt to do that party, Betty. You know that.”
“Of course you could. You just have to think big, Molly. You can’t live your life on a small-screen TV, you know. It’s a great opportunity for you. Everyone in town will be there.”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. If I screw up, it will definitely be on a big screen. That’s not exactly a great way to launch a business.”
“Okay, I understand.” Betty reached over and patted her hand. For a moment, Molly thought she might relent. “This is a big risk for you. But you have to leave your comfort zone if you want to succeed. You have to put yourself out there and risk being a big flop.”
“All right, point taken . . . but can’t I be a big flop a few months from now? And in some other town, where they don’t know me as well? This all seems just a little too rushed for me.”
“That’s the way life is. Opportunities like this don’t always come around at your convenience, Molly. I really think you’re ready for this. I wouldn’t have recommended you to Emily otherwise. Stop thinking about being a failure and focus on the payoff if you do a good job. It could launch your whole business plan like that.” Betty snapped her fingers, which sounded like a tiny firecracker exploding at the table.
“I don’t have a business plan,” Molly reminded her.
“Well, then you need one. I’m sure it’s covered in your text books somewhere. You’ll need it to get financing, you know.”
“What financing?”
“Well, you need some capital to get started. Emily will give you a deposit, of course. But there’s going to be some outlay of funds for your supplies and wages and all. You’ll have to hire help and rent tables and chairs, that sort of thing.”
Molly sighed as the waitress set their orders down. She knew if she let Betty proceed on this track much longer, they would wind up their lunch with a walk down to the bank.
“Why don’t you talk to your sister-in-law about it? She does small-business loans, right?”
“I just knew you were going to say that.” Molly forked up a bite of salad, tempted to confess she and Jessica had already sort of started talking about this, but Molly knew that would only encourage Betty more.
“You definitely ought to talk to Jessica,” Betty was saying. “She might have some ideas for you. And just promise me that you’ll talk to Emily and see what kind of party she wants before you flat-out refuse? Will you do that one thing for me?”
Molly sighed, unable to avoid Betty’s pleading gaze. “All right. I’ll talk to both of them. Happy now?”
“Perfectly. You’re going to thank me for this someday. I guarantee it.”
Betty began eating her salad with a pleased expression on her face. Molly didn’t answer. She hoped Betty was right. Her friend’s unflinching confidence in her boosted her spirits. But she still struggled with a voice in her head that insisted she couldn’t do it and was a fool to even try.
It was hard to change. It was hard to leave her comfort zone, as Betty had said. That was the bottom line here. It was easier to stay in one place and complain and remind herself of all the reasons she couldn’t get ahead.
And maybe that was also true for the way she dealt with Phil, she thought, remembering what Matthew had said.
But that was another matter entirely. One crisis at a time, she decided. Your other worry goblins will have to take a number.
Now a real chance to get her business started had been thrown in her path, and Betty wouldn’t let her ignore it. But Molly still wasn’t sure she had the courage to pick up the prize and run with it.
“GOOD MORNING, CARL. UP AND AT IT ALREADY, I SEE.” THE REVEREND shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.
Carl stood high upon a ladder, working on a gutter pipe that ran down from the church’s roof. Patching a leak with some tar, it looked like to Ben. His nose wrinkled at the smell of it.
“I heard it might rain again on Thursday,” Carl said. “I wanted to fix this pipe while we had some dry weather.”
“Good idea. That’s been bad for a while. Well, when you’re done come into my office, will you? I wanted to have a word.”
Carl looked down at him. Even from the distance between them Ben could see a look of alarm on his face. “I’m just about finished if you want to wait a minute,” Carl said.
Ben nodded. “All right. Don’t rush.”
He hadn’t meant to make Carl worry. Ben wondered if the poor man thought he might be getting fired. Of course, it was nothing like that. He had started at the church last Tuesday, exactly a week ago, and so far his work had been exemplary.
“There�
�s no problem, Carl,” Ben called up to him. “It’s nothing urgent.”
Carl began the descent down the ladder. He still favored one leg but never complained. He actually looked somewhat healthier, Ben thought, since he had started working. Maybe the fresh air and exercise had done him good.
“I wanted to talk to you anyway, Reverend. I’m just about done with this list you gave me last week.” Carl fished in his shirt pocket and pulled out a grubby piece of paper, the list of repairs that needed to be done around the building and grounds.
“Done already? That was fast.” Ben took the list in hand and reviewed it, noticing Carl’s scrawled notes and check marks, as well as the careful accounting he had kept of the costs of supplies. The reverend had given him two-hundred dollars in petty cash. The church had an account at the hardware store in town, but he thought that it would do Carl good to see that he was trusted with the money. People tend to live up to the expectations others have of them, Ben had always noticed.
“What’s this note here about the window?” Ben squinted through his glasses, unable to read Carl’s writing.
“Oh, that . . . that was the window I busted when I broke in that night. I thought you ought to take the cost of fixing it out of my pay.” Carl shrugged, as if it were unimportant.
The reverend looked at him a moment, then back at the list. He wanted to keep this as a reminder, to show the naysayers in the congregation—a small but vocal contingent who had come to him after service on Sunday, unhappy to learn that Carl had been hired. Ben had stood his ground, reminding them of their Christian duty, exhorting them to take a more compassionate attitude toward their unfortunate brother. They had backed down, but Ben knew they were watching from a distance, waiting for the slightest excuse to make Carl go.
The list gave Ben heart. It renewed his faith in the capacity of people to grow, to turn over a new leaf. Not only had Carl completed the tasks in record time, he had chipped in money from his own pay to make amends for his mistake.
“All right, Carl. Thanks. I’ll put that on the record.” Ben looked up at him. “You’re doing a fine job here so far. I’m pleased with your work.”
A New Leaf Page 23
