A New Leaf

by Thomas Kinkade

  She stared at the vase of daffodils, their green stems looped over the edge, their golden heads sagging. Disappointed and dispirited, exactly the way she now felt.

  But she knew she had to rally, at least for the few minutes he would remain here. I can put the pillow over my face and cry my heart out later.

  “I understand what you’re trying to say. Thanks for being up front with me.”

  His dark gaze sought hers out, but she avoided looking at him. “I know it doesn’t sound like much,” he said, “but I wish this could have worked out differently.”

  “It’s all right. Maybe it’s better this way. At least everything’s out in the open now, right?” Her voice sounded a bit sharper than she intended, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Yes, I guess it is.” He sighed and looked down at the table, then pushed himself up from his chair. “All right then. I guess I’d better go.”

  “Matt . . . please. We’ll still be friends. It’s okay.”

  She didn’t know why she found herself suddenly trying to reassure him, to make him feel better, when she was clearly the injured party here. But he looked so forlorn as he rose from the table, almost as if he might be having second thoughts about what he’d just done.

  She stopped herself. More wishful thinking. That was her problem—what had gotten her into this spot in the first place.

  He walked over to the door and grabbed his rain jacket. She followed from a safe distance.

  “Don’t work too hard. I’ll see you around, I guess,” he said gently.

  “It’s a small town. You won’t be able to avoid me.”

  Her tart reply reminded them both of the time they’d met. He gave her a brief smile, one that didn’t quite touch his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t want to. You should know that by now.”

  Molly watched him walk down the hall, then closed the door. She immediately felt tears welling up in her eyes and then streaming down her face. She tried to hold them back but couldn’t. She covered her face with her hands a moment, briefly considered running back into the bedroom and flinging herself on the bed, then shook her head.

  No, she’d lost too much time over this already. She had to work. She wasn’t half through on her orders. Lauren and Jill would be home in an hour, she realized. She couldn’t let them find her looking so upset.

  “I’M SORRY, BETTY. I JUST DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS ANYMORE. Can we change the subject, please?”

  Molly sat at a table in the Beanery with Betty on Tuesday afternoon. Betty had been quite sympathetic as Molly related the story of Matthew’s broken date and his heart-to-heart chat on Sunday. But despite Betty’s sympathy and sound advice, she just didn’t want to pick it apart anymore. The whole topic was still too painful.

  “How did it go in Connecticut? How’s Brian doing?” Molly asked suddenly.

  “Oh, well now. There’s a fresh topic for you.”

  Betty pursed her lips and stared down at her salad. Molly could tell that Betty didn’t like the attention deflected to her own problems.

  A few months ago, Betty’s sixteen-year-old son, Brian, had more or less demanded to leave Betty’s custody and live with his father. Betty’s ex-husband had recently remarried and moved to New Canaan, Connecticut. At first Betty had refused to let Brian go, but finally she decided she had to give in.

  “Brian is doing fine. He seems happy to be with his father,” she reported. “I have to admit, I miss him a lot and feel badly that he didn’t want to stay here with me. I’d be lying if I said differently. But it’s good to be getting along with him again. We actually had fun together. So that’s some benefit, I suppose.”

  Molly felt a wave of sympathy for her. She knew Betty had gone through a lot lately over Brian. She had also handled the news that her ex-husband was now the proud father of another baby with his second wife.

  “How does Brian feel about the baby?” Molly asked.

  “He’s wild about the baby apparently. But I’m not surprised. The baby was part of the draw. I think Brian was afraid Ted was going to forget about him once he had another child. Ted, of course, is not quite thatbad,” Betty added with a short laugh. “But Brian didn’t want to get shut out. He wanted to stake his claim in the new family.”

  “That’s probably true,” Molly agreed. Meanwhile, she could see that Betty was the one who felt shut out. Not that Betty held any grudges against her ex-husband; she seemed genuinely happy that he had started over. But Molly could see that Ted having a baby made her feel older, and now she felt rejected by her son, who seemed to prefer Ted’s new family circle. The music had stopped, and Betty had found herself without a chair.

  “How’s it going with Richard?” Molly asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a more positive direction.

  “Oh, Richard. That fizzled out.” Betty sighed and put her napkin on the table. “We get along well enough, I suppose. We have the same interests and all that. He’s a really nice guy, very thoughtful. But there wasn’t much chemistry.” She shrugged. “It was a mutual decision. We’ll still be friends.”

  “Sounds like you feel okay about it.”

  “I do,” Betty assured her. She glanced up at Molly.

  “You can’t expect every relationship to work out. Few do, actually.”

  Molly took a long sip of her diet soda, remembering the way Matthew had looked at her, saying he wished it could work out differently for them. She wanted to believe that he meant it, even though it didn’t change anything.

  No, she didn’t want to think about that anymore. It didn’t help one bit.

  “What’s going on with Emily’s party? Did you give her your estimate yet?” Betty asked suddenly.

  “Oh, I’ve been working on that. I’m not sure I’m going to do the party, though.” Molly braced herself for Betty’s reaction, sure of what would come.

  “Molly, what do you mean? I thought it was all settled.”

  “It was never settled, Betty. I had a good meeting with Emily. But I never agreed to do it. We didn’t even talk about a date.”

  “But I’m sure she’s counting on you. You can’t back out now.”

  “I’m not backing out, for heaven’s sake. I didn’t get far enough to be backing out. The more I looked into what was really involved in pulling this off, the more I could see that right now it’s beyond me. I need to be more realistic. I can’t do it.”

  “More realistic. Okay.” Betty paused, nodding to herself. “I know what’s going on here. You can’t fool me.”

  Molly felt her mouth go dry. She never could fool Betty. But she could try.

  “Okay, I’m game. What’s going on? I don’t have a clue.”

  “You do, too. Or maybe you’re just so deeply in denial, you can’t see it.”

  “See what Betty?” she asked a bit impatiently.

  “It’s because of Matthew. That’s what made you suddenly ‘realistic.’ That’s what made you think you don’t want to do Emily’s party.”

  “Oh, Betty, that’s not true. I’ve just thought about the work involved, and I changed my mind.”

  “You can’t do this to yourself. I won’t let you.”

  “You won’t let me do what?”

  “Use this rejection—from some guy who doesn’t appreciate you or is just in a bad place emotionally right now—as an excuse to throw away everything you’ve been working for. Forget about Matthew. You have a really great chance to get your business going, and you can’t lose confidence in yourself and toss it away because this romance didn’t work out. One thing has nothing to do with the other.”

  “I know that,” Molly answered.

  She stared down at her plate and pushed a bit of lettuce around with her fork. All last week she had felt wary but excited about the opportunity. It was Sunday night and Monday when doubts started moving in like storm clouds—just after her talk with Matthew, she realized. She couldn’t help it. Nothing seemed right since then.

  “What have you done so far? Did you figure
out your costs and overhead and that sort of thing?”

  Molly nodded. “I called up Pauline,” she said, referring to her instructor. “We went over everything on the phone.”

  “That’s great. Then you must be ready to give Emily an estimate.”

  Molly didn’t answer for a moment. “I could be.”

  “Look, I’m sorry to be so hard on you about this.” Molly noticed her smiling a little. “Think of it as a tough love kind of thing.”

  Molly smiled, too. “If you say so.”

  “I do. I know you had your hopes up about Matthew. I’m sure you feel like your heart has just been tossed in a food processor or something.”

  She did. With the setting on puree.

  “But working hard is the best revenge, Molly. It’s the best way to get over anything—a failed romance, a bad haircut. Even your ex-husband having a new baby,” she added with a wry smile. “I’ve been through this a million times. Believe me.”

  Molly looked up and met her friend’s sympathetic gaze. Betty was a fighter, that was for sure. She didn’t let anything hold her back.

  “You’ve already done all the groundwork, Molly. It would be a shame to just let this go.”

  It would be a shame. Betty was right. One thing didn’t have anything to do with the other, though somehow in her mind, they had gotten all tangled up. She had to hold fast to some idea of herself, of what she could do. She couldn’t let herself be so affected by other people’s opinions—even Matthew’s.

  “All right, I’ll meet with Emily again. I’ll give her the estimate,” Molly agreed with a long sigh. “Are you happy now?”

  Betty sat back, quietly beaming. “Yes, very. Just for that, lunch is on me. And let’s get dessert. Not one of yours, though. We need to check out the competition. And don’t worry about your diet. This is market research.”

  “Right. The calories don’t count then, I guess.”

  Betty nodded. “Exactly. Like writing it off on your income tax.”

  Molly laughed and shook her head. “Betty, you’re too much.”

  Betty raised her hand, waving the waitress over. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  BOLSTERED BY HER LUNCH WITH BETTY, MOLLY CALLED EMILY LATER that afternoon. Emily sounded happy to hear from her and eager to see her estimate for the party.

  “When do you think you’ll have it ready?”

  “I guess I can drop it off at your house sometime tomorrow.”

  “Great, but don’t bring it there. I won’t be home tomorrow until very late. Come by my office. I’m eager to see it and talk it over with Dan.”

  “Um, sure. No problem. I’ll drop it off at your office sometime tomorrow,” Molly agreed.

  They said good-bye, and Molly had a sudden moment of panic. She gulped it back, thinking of Betty’s advice. The best cure was just to get at it.

  By working late at night after the girls had gone to sleep and calling her course teacher with a few more questions, Molly managed to pull together a professional-looking estimate. She arranged it in an attractive glossy folder—a discard from one of Jill’s many school reports—then packed it in a manila envelope. She even whipped up some attractive letterhead on the computer, though she still didn’t have an official name for her business.

  As promised, she drove over to Village Hall the next day and walked back to the mayor’s office. Emily’s secretary was out, and Molly wondered where she should leave her package. Then she heard Emily call to her through the half-open door of her office.

  “Molly, come in. I’m glad I spotted you out there.”

  Molly went into Emily’s office and handed her the envelope. “Here it is. If you have any questions, or if I misunderstood anything we talked about, just give me a call.”

  “Yes, I will.” Emily opened the envelope and then drew out the sheaf of papers from the folder. Molly felt a little twist in her stomach. She didn’t want Emily to read it right in front of her.

  Emily must have sensed her dismay. She glanced at Molly and smiled, then stuck the papers back in the folder.

  “I’ve come up with a date.” Emily picked up a calendar from her desk and flipped the page. “Dan and I thought May seventeenth could work out well. What do you think?”

  “May seventeenth?” Molly looked down at the calendar to the little square where Emily now pointed. She suddenly felt so nervous, she practically couldn’t see straight. It seemed as if Emily had glanced at the price quote on the top page and was going to agree to it.

  Molly felt terrified. This was really happening. The party would be a month from now. Plenty of time to get ready, and yet it felt too soon. Way too soon.

  “It’s a Sunday. Do you have anything else scheduled that day, do you think?”

  “Um, no. I don’t think so.” Molly took a breath. Her calendar was clear. Completely clear. Emily was her first and only client. Didn’t she know that?

  “I’ll check to make sure, though.” Molly forced her voice to sound more professional.

  “Great. You check and see if that date works out. I’ll look over the estimate and get back to you promptly.” Emily smiled at her. “Thanks for coming by. I appreciate it.”

  “That’s okay. I guess we’ll talk later in the week then.”

  Molly said good-bye and left Emily’s office. She had the strangest feeling that Emily and Betty were in this together somehow, a conspiracy to help her out, whether she liked it or not. Jessica might even be in on it, too, she thought vaguely.

  No, that’s just plain silly. I’m being paranoid about people being too nice to me and treating me so respectfully. I always have to think there’s some catch. That’s just like me, isn’t it?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AWEEK OF SOLID RAIN FINALLY ABATED, AND ON EASTER SUNDAY a brilliant sun rose against a spring blue sky. The air smelled of moist earth, green buds, and new grass. The cleansing breeze flowed through the open windows and wide open doors at the rear of the sanctuary.

  As the choir sang the first hymn, Ben gazed out at the congregation. The church was full today. The men were dressed in their best suits and ties, the women in bright colors and flower patterns, and the children looked scrubbed and fancied up to within an inch of their lives.

  The church was decked out in its own Easter finery, the altar covered in an abundance of white lilies and baskets of blue hyacinths, filling Ben’s head with their heavy scent. More than that, the pews and floors were polished and the windows bright. Carl had completed the list and more, and Ben was sure the Lord was pleased with his efforts. He told Carl as much yesterday afternoon. Carl accepted the praise in his typical taciturn manner, but Ben could see that he was touched by the words.

  Ben saw Carl sitting in a pew with Tucker and his family. His dark jacket and white shirt had been borrowed from Tucker, no doubt. But he was there, gazing down at the hymnal and mouthing the words along with everyone else. Tucker sat beside him, staring straight ahead, as did Fran and their children. Ben was sure they had weathered some curious stares that morning. He knew it took courage on Carl’s part to brave this crowd. He was so reclusive. Maybe that was slowly changing, too.

  Ben had asked Carl if he had plans for Easter Sunday. If Carl was going to spend the day alone, Ben intended to invite him to his own home for Sunday dinner, but he had been pleased to hear that Carl was going to Tucker’s house. Considering the hasty way he had left the Tulleys, this seemed a step back in the right direction. Ben asked God to bless them all for their efforts.

  Soon it was time for the sermon, and Ben took the pulpit, his notes in hand. “Welcome, everyone. My heart is full with the good news. Like the angel said, ‘He is risen.’ Let us rejoice and give thanks for this message and the mystery that redeems us.

  “And let us pray that this miracle lives in our hearts, not just today, on Easter Sunday, but every day. Let us be mindful of this fantastic event, which not only promises us forgiveness and salvation for all eternity but new life in this life here on
earth, as we struggle with our human frailty and imperfections.

  “Each time we feel discouraged and wish for a second chance, let us look back on this day and remember the story of Easter morning, the good news that comes to us in the Scriptures. Yes, we do have another chance. Let us put our faith in the Lord and the power of prayer and we can experience the miracle of change and rebirth, just as surely as spring stirs life in the earth again after the long, deadening winter.”

  As the service continued, Molly shifted in her seat, willing herself not to glance to the side where Matthew sat with Amanda farther down the pew.

  She usually didn’t attend church but Easter was special, like Christmas. You just had to go. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sorry. The short sermon, powerfully spoken, really struck a chord. She could see herself in the reverend’s words, despairing as she struggled to start a new life and chase after her dreams, losing her energy and faith. But maybe she could do this. She squeezed her eyes shut and sent up a quick prayer. Please Lord, help me get things moving in the right direction. Help me with my plans and all I’m trying to do.

  Down the pew, Matthew thought about the sermon, too, and how he had come here, to Cape Light, hoping for a new life, for renewal that hadn’t yet come to him. Maybe he just needed more time here. Maybe the spring would help, though in some strange way the new season only made him sadder.

  Part of it was Molly. She was so much like spring—so full of life—it hurt to see her here. More than he ever expected.

  He missed her and thought about her and almost called her up to say hello a dozen times. Of course they had run into each other a few times during the past weeks because of the girls. But it wasn’t the same between them anymore, and Matthew regretted that. He missed the easy banter and warmth.

  Like the reverend said, he was discouraged. He felt stuck. But he knew in his heart that he had never really called upon the Lord to help him. He was still too scared, afraid of failing Molly, disappointing her the same way he had disappointed Sharon—and of disappointing himself. He had missed his chance with Molly, the chance of a lifetime. Mainly because he just couldn’t get out of his own way.