How Sweet It Is (8 page)

But it had been there all the same.

Moving quickly past it, she split the remaining truffles into two separate stacks and packed them in the bakeshop’s signature pink box with a white ribbon. Knowing she would need to be back at work in less than five hours to prepare the next day’s menu items, she headed home for some much needed sleep.

“I don’t care what the stupid doctor says; I don’t want that flavorless stuff masquerading as food in the dining hall.” Jack O’Brien stared hard at Molly, his arms folded across his chest in a manner suggesting he wasn’t going to budge. Her father was generally a pretty easygoing guy, but the stricter diet his doctor had him on was beginning to wear thin, as was his patience.

“So what exactly are you planning to eat instead?” It was close to lunchtime and she’d set aside time for them to eat together on her short break.

“I’ve ordered a pizza. It should be here any minute.”

She sighed. “A pizza? Dad, that’s hardly within the realm of the list of foods your cardiologist outlined for us.”

Maybe it was the worried expression on her face, or the fragile tone of her voice, but in that moment, he seemed to soften considerably. In fact, he even looked a little sad, which broke her heart for a whole separate reason. “I’ll just have one slice then. And maybe a little salad and fruit from the dining room.”

He was trying to make her happy, even in the midst of his frustration. Molly met his eyes and took in his labored breathing. It seemed worse today. “I guess one piece wouldn’t hurt. Maybe some rest after that though, don’t you think?”

He nodded quietly, resolute now. “Maybe so.”

In attempt to elevate the mood, she changed the subject. “So I think you’re going to be proud of me. Or at least, I’m hoping so.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Explain yourself, child of mine.”

“Well, you know how you always taught me to never give up when it came to generating new recipes? Keep those creative fires burning. Give up sleep if you have to.”

That earned a partial smile. “Of course I remember. Never stop working at it, until it’s just right. That’s our motto.”

“Exactly. Well, I did a little of that. I listened to your advice and it took a little time, but I came up with this.” From her bag on the floor, she produced the small pink box. “Try one of these.”

He gently tore the ribbon and took a small bite of the truffle. She waited, almost ready to come out of her skin in anticipation of what he might say. “So? What’s the verdict?” she asked nervously. Her heart was racing now because his opinion mattered to her more than anyone else’s. It just did. He wasn’t just her father, he was her mentor. He taught her everything she knew, and if he was underwhelmed, it was probable that she’d missed the mark she thought she’d hit and…well, that would be quite a blow. “You’re not saying anything. Why aren’t you saying anything? Be honest with me. I can take it.”

He took another excruciating moment. “I’m just trying to figure out how to explain to you that this is probably the best piece of chocolate I’ve ever tasted.”

The smile that slipped onto her face started slowly and took a minute to get going. “Really? You’re not just trying to be the supportive father, because I could handle it if you were. You can just admit you’re being supportive and then tell me if something’s missing or too overpowering or—”

“Haven’t I always told it to you like it is?”

He had. Always. She blinked. “Yes.”

“And this is what it is. You’ve got something great here. I assume you’re going to roll these out at the shop?”

“I’d like to. The plan is to have several different flavor varieties, but this one would be our signature.”

“Smart girl. Have you thought of a name for them?”

“I guess Molly’s Kickass Truffles might be a little much for our younger customers.”

The twinkle in his eye was back. “I think it might. What about naming them after you? MollyDollys.”

MollyDolly was the nickname her father had given her when she was little. She moved it around in her mind. “Maybe. You know, that could actually work. It’s cute and personal, and it would be a way to have my own stamp on them.”

“True.”

She smiled at him. “And they’d make me think of you.” A lump arrived in her throat as she reflected briefly on his failing health, not a concept she allowed herself to think about too much. Congestive heart failure was a terminal diagnosis. There was still time left, but the days weren’t exactly infinite and she felt them flittering away. He was the only parent she’d ever known, as her mother had passed from stage four leukemia when Molly was two and a half. The concept of life without him was a little more than she was willing to consider.

His eyes warmed and he squeezed her hand, clearly picking up on the direction of her thoughts. “Don’t you go getting all misty on me. I’m a tough old guy, you know. Not getting rid of me any time soon.”

She laughed and swallowed the lump. “I wouldn’t dare presume.”

A nurse poked her head around the corner into his room. “Mr. O’Brien? A pizza was delivered for you.”

He slapped his hands together. “And the day just got even better.”

*

That afternoon at Flour Child brought with it four orders for delivery and a last-minute order of chocolate chip cookies for the clinic to be held for pickup. Molly set the cookies out to cool as Eden packed up the last of the deliveries. For the first time in quite a while, they had their hands full, and Molly liked the adrenaline rush the time crunch brought with it.

She lived for busy. It kept things interesting and gave the cash register a workout in the process. And right about now, dollar signs were her friends.

Her delivery guy, Damon, strolled in casually and consulted the clipboard on the counter. He’d worked part-time for Molly for the past two years and had slowly become part of the Flour Child family. She enjoyed his easygoing rhythm and the rapport he seemed capable of establishing with the clients. So he wasn’t the fastest delivery guy on the planet, but many an old lady fell victim to his boyish good looks and placed an extra order or two, just so he’d deliver it. Not exactly bad for business.

However, there was one woman immune to his charm and noticeable biceps, Eden. The two of them went together about as well as oil and water on their most compatible day. They were like Batman and the Joker. Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker. Madonna and Elton John.

Damon leaned across the counter and peered at the stack of boxes. “So what do you got for me?”

Eden glared at him. “That’s your greeting? ‘What do you got for me?’ Sugar, we’re busting our asses back here. How about leading with a good afternoon or a hello. Or were you not brought up properly?” Her accent had a way of adding a whole new level of intensity to an insult.

Damon chewed his gum for a few token moments before smiling widely. “Good morning, sunshine.” And then he dropped the grin entirely. “Now what have you got for me?”

Eden shook her head and moved to the first group of packages, muttering to herself. “Raised in a barn, I know what I’d
like
to give you.”

“Well, that sounds promising,” Damon called after her.

“Pig,” she shot back.

Molly suppressed an eye roll. It was their daily banter. She’d had to intervene in their battles on more than one occasion when there had been customers present, but she was in too good a mood today to get caught up. Instead she packaged the cookies and took a swipe from the doughy spoon once she finished. Perk of the job.

Eden handed Damon the first order. “All right, now pay attention. A dozen passion fruit tarts and two dozen macadamia brownies to the library for book club.”

“Got it.”

“Then you’re heading to the Allstate office next to the police station and dropping off the chocolate macaroons. Last, you’re gonna loop around to the courthouse with the red velvet birthday cake for Judge Saunders. Think you can manage not to screw it up? Or shall I write it in permanent marker across your sweet little forehead?”

He took a step into Eden, eyes flashing. “Sounds pretty tricky. I think I’ll just manage.” With that, he lifted the stack of pink boxes and breezed through the door nearly colliding with Jordan in the process. He was pressed for time, but apparently not enough to resist giving her an appreciative once-over as she passed.

“Hi,” Jordan beamed once she arrived at the counter. “Pickup for Primary Care of Applewood.”

Molly was happy to see her. “Hey, you. I figured they’d send Jackson to pick up these piping hot, wonderful cookies.”

“I volunteered. Trying to earn a few bonus points with the folks; you know how it is.” Jordan’s expression then shifted to one of amusement and she eyed Molly strangely.

Instantly self-conscious, she stared back. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um.” Jordan halfway pointed at her cheek. “Nothing. It’s just you have some flour…”

“Oh.” She swiped at her cheek aggressively. “Occupational hazard. Did I get it?”

“Wow, no. Not at all. It’s pretty much everywhere. Like you’ve just returned from an all night flour rave and your reward was more flour.”

Molly grinned. “Well, I have to have fun somehow.”

“I can tell. You look, I don’t know…” She shook her head. “Happy. Completely in your element.”

“That’s because I am. I love days like this. Not a cloud in the sky, the aromas from the oven wafting past every few minutes, and the cash register getting a good workout.”

“Who could ask for more?”

They stood a moment, smiling at each other.

It was then that Eden cleared her throat. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but I think these might belong to you.” She slid a tray of oversized cookies across the counter to Jordan and extended her hand. “Eden Young. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Pleasure. Jordan Tuscana.”

“So you’re the charmer everybody’s talking about. Mr. Lacamore said you jumped his dead car battery yesterday in front of the library.”

Jordan shrugged and looked skyward playfully. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“And modest too. Nice.” She swung a dishtowel over her shoulder. “Well, I have some cleaning up to do in the kitchen. See you around, sugar.” Eden turned and widened her eyes at Molly as she passed.

Jordan inclined her head in the direction of Eden’s retreating form. “She seems fun.”

“She is. But don’t let the accent fool you. Even the cruelest of jabs can sound gentle with a ‘bless her heart’ tossed in at the end. It’s her most notable skill.”

“I’m incredibly jealous.”

“Ditto. Will I see you later?”

Jordan made her way to the door. “You will. I’ll swing by your place about four to finish the shutters. Maybe we can grab dinner after?”

At Molly’s hesitation, Jordan paused and walked suspiciously back to the counter. “What? Don’t tell me. You have another date?”

Molly dropped her gaze.

“Oh my, you totally do. You have another hot date to go on.” She was grinning playfully, but the d-word alone was enough to make Molly’s blood pressure spike at the impending drink she’d agreed to have with yet another stranger. Apparently, Eden’s friend Paulene worked fast. The first setup had been difficult enough to muster the courage for. And after that whole traumatic experience, she didn’t know how she was going to manage a second go-round. What if it went just as poorly?

“It’s not a full date this time,” she explained to Jordan. “Just drinks. A half-date. It’s stupid, but I’m going and it doesn’t need to be discussed further because now I’m all…I don’t know. Damn it.” She stared at the buttons on the cash register, studying their grooves and attempting not to let herself freak out. Too late. The panic had already set in, and her heart thudded rapidly in her chest and the noise in the room was all sorts of deafening.

A minor panic attack. That’s all.

She’d had them before and would get through this if she could just, you know, find more air in the room. It was embarrassing and she had no reason to get all worked up over a dumb half-date, but alas, she was.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Jordan said gently. Molly lifted her gaze to Jordan who stared back at her with calm, understanding eyes. “Inhale slowly, okay? Again. And one more time.”

And then, Molly could breathe again. She never realized how much she loved air.

Jordan paused, allowing her a moment to get back on track. Her voice was quiet, reassuring when she spoke again. “It’s okay, Mol. We don’t have to discuss it. But you’re going to be okay, all right? See you at four.” And with a quick wink and a beautiful smile, she was off. Molly stared after her, wondering how with just one reassuring look and some kind words, Jordan had managed to steady her lilting ship. Her heart rate slowed and the annoying ringing in her ears drifted away.

She took another deep, much needed breath and reminded herself why. Because that’s what Jordan did. She made everything seem within the realm of possibility, even the most enigmatic. It was her gift. It was the way she approached life and it was contagious. It had always been that way.

“So
that
was little sister?” Eden began the process of moving warm oatmeal cookies from the silver tray in her hands to the display case.

“Uh-huh.”

Eden whistled low and Molly regarded her with a long look.

“What? What does that mean? Explain your pointed whistling.”

“Well, she’s ridiculously dreamy is all. Strikingly beautiful. A looker. I see what Summer’s been going on about now.” Eden picked up the empty tray and sauntered back into the kitchen.

But something about the comment didn’t sit well with Molly and she was forced by an act of nature to follow. She pushed open the swinging door and sidled up next to Eden at the sink where she stood washing the tray.

“What do you mean? What did Summer say exactly?” She tried her best to be nonchalant, but wasn’t sure how effective she was. So she picked up a mixing bowl and began to wash. Keeping busy would help.

Eden paused in the midst of washing. “Would take less time to tell you what she didn’t say, if you catch my drift. Can’t say I blame her. I’m straight as the day is long, but I know a gorgeous woman when I see one, and trust me, I just saw one.”