How Sweet It Is (9 page)

“So you’re saying Summer’s
interested
? In Jordan.”

Eden threw her a curious glance. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m also saying that if you scrub that bowl any harder, we’re gonna have a plate on our hands.”

“Huh?”

Eden turned the water off. “It’s clean. Give me that.” She placed the bowl on the top shelf of the cabinet and turned back to Molly. “You don’t like this at all. Just look at you, all worked up and steely eyed.”

“What? No. Summer and Jordan can do as they please. I was just curious about the gossip. You always seem to have it all before me. Never fair. How are we doing on apple scones?”

“We’re fine. Are you?”

Molly settled in atop the small stepladder. “Of course I am. Jordan is capable of making her own decisions. But if you must know, I happen to think that Summer is all wrong for her and I can’t help but feel, I don’t know, protective.” Molly sighed. “Jordan needs someone caring, someone sensitive who gets her and will let her be who she is. Summer’s about as warm and cuddly as a pit viper, and that might even be generous.”

Eden grinned at her widely, knowingly even, and it was annoying. “If you say so.”

“I do. And don’t look at me like that.”

Eden snapped her on the backside with a dishtowel as she passed. “You’re a complicated woman, Molly O’Brien. But it certainly keeps things interesting around here.”

*

It was after eight when Jordan made it home from Molly’s place. Thank God daylight was holding on longer now that they were into spring. The shutters looked great if she did say so herself. It was entirely possible she had a future in home repair. Her arms were a bit sore from painting, and it was plausible she wore home a higher percentage of the dusty blue paint than was actually on the shutters themselves, but it was a worthy cause.

Molly hadn’t made an appearance, but it was probably for the best. Watching her glammed up and hopeful as she headed out for the evening with some random woman was a memory she could live without. Though she did hope for Molly’s sake that the evening went well. She deserved to be happy, more than anyone she knew. She wanted that for her.

“Hey there, sweetie. You’re looking especially…blue.” Her mom grinned at her own joke as she stood in front of the microwave heating something in a small dish. No doubt her dinner. She was still wearing her scrubs, which indicated she hadn’t been home from the clinic long.

“Yeah, it’s a new look I’m trying out. I call it Shutter Smurf. No Dad tonight?”

“He’ll be along shortly. Mr. Rubenstein stopped in after closing with pain in his heel. Might be that bone spur acting up again. Your father agreed to stay and take a look.”

“Nice of him.”

“Some warmed up spaghetti?” Her mother held up the Tupperware bowl from the microwave. She looked tired. The day must have been a long one for her, as were most. Her parents had opened the one and only medical clinic in Applewood eighteen years prior and gave generously of their time to the members of the community. One of the many things she admired about them.

“Give me about thirty minutes and I’ll gladly arm wrestle you for some of that, but I think I need a quick shower first.” She pushed off the counter and started in the direction of the hall.

“Jordan, before you go…”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll notice I put a box in front of your bed with some things for you to go through.”

“No problem.”

“Some things of Cassie’s. We held on to them for you, just in case.”

Jordan nodded appreciatively, but didn’t say anything because the lump in her throat was in the way.

Her mother’s face softened in understanding. “Take some time and see if there’s anything you might want to keep for yourself. No rush.”

And there it was.

That sinking feeling she got whenever she allowed her mind to acknowledge the accident. It was like all the color in the room faded at the reality check. However, she did her damndest to push through it. “Sure, I’ll take a look.”

But fifteen minutes later, as she sat on the floor of her childhood bedroom, wet hair from the shower dripping on the carpet, the box a few feet away was a little too daunting. So instead of moving through the items in the box, she stared at it, letting her thoughts travel where they may.

The soccer ball peeking out from on top was familiar to her right off. But it hadn’t technically been Cassie’s. It was hers, on loan to her sister from the night before Cassie’d left for college in Chicago so many years before.

That night was still so incredibly vivid in her memory. She had been fourteen then and it had been warm out, one of the last lingering days of summer. She was sad at the thought of Cassie leaving home, which had manifested itself into despondency. She’d never been good at dealing with heavy emotion. So instead of sitting around the kitchen table and having one last dinner with her family before Cassie left for school, she’d taken her ball, and without permission, headed to the soccer field at the high school.

The daylight was fading as dusk shifted to night, but she could still make out the lines on the field as she practiced her footwork. Anything not to think about the next day, and what life would be like at home from here forward. Her brother had moved out two years prior, but it hadn’t carried the same weight. The age difference was wider, and her relationship with Cassie was, well, different. They did stuff together, played soccer, watched movies, hung out. Okay, sometimes she annoyed Cassie when Molly or her friends were around, but in the scheme of things, that was no big deal.

She’d be all alone now.

Maybe she was acting childish, feeling sorry for herself, whatever. But she couldn’t help it. As she dribbled, she felt the tears touch her eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of the ball.”

She paused and turned at the sound of the voice. “What?”

Cassie stood a few yards behind her, arms folded as she watched, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Stop doing that. You always get ahead and it screws up your control. If you want to make varsity this year, you have to work off of technique, not just speed and tenacity.”

No longer alone, she swallowed the emotion and quickly swiped at her cheek to erase any evidence of shed tears. “Yeah, well, we can’t all start our freshman year.”

“And that’s the second thing that’s going to get in your way.”

“What?”

“Self doubt. You’re good, Jordan. Hell, more than good, but you let your head talk you out of everything.”

Jordan nodded, knowing it was true. “It’s just that everyone wants me to be you. I can’t do that.”

“Because you’re not me. And anyone who expects that is not seeing how great you are all on your own.”

Jordan took in the words, letting them settle. “That’s cool of you to say.” In that moment, she was feeling all sorts of sad again. She and Cassie had a typical sibling relationship full of daily arguments, hanging out, and lots of mutual interests. Mainly because Jordan looked up to Cassie. A lot.

“Tell you what. You make the team and I’ll make sure I’m there for your first game.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. It’s only a two-hour drive. What? Did you think I’d never come home again? It’s Chicago, Jordy, not Mars.”

“No, it’s just awesome that you’d come, you know, for me. My game, I mean.”

“Like I’d miss it. Wanna knock it around for a while?”

“Sure.” In actuality, nothing could have cheered her up more, but she played it cool. Jordan shot the ball to Cassie and they spent the next half hour passing it back and forth, dribbling up the field as they talked about anything and everything.

“Check in on Molly for me, okay?”

“Definitely.” Molly had opted to stay in Applewood after graduation and take more ownership of the bakeshop alongside her dad. It was her lifelong passion, and Jordan couldn’t have been more pleased to know that at least she’d still have Molly a few doors down. Not the same as Cassie, but it was still something to hold on to.

“And Mom’s going to need you to step up more and help around the house. No running off with your friends after school before checking in with her.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“I know. That’s why I’m not worried.” Cassie smiled and scooped up the ball. “C’mon. It’s dark now and Mom will worry you’ve run away and joined the circus. Not that you wouldn’t fit in there.”

“Shut up.”

“Just sayin’. I’m keeping this by the way; you have plenty of other soccer balls.”

Cassie had kept her promise and attended the first game that season. They’d won. Jordan stared at the soccer ball and floated slowly back to the present. She shook herself free of the memory and wandered off numbly in search of a hairdryer.

All these years later and she never had measured up to Cassie. Not at school. Not on the soccer field, and definitely not at home. And the sad truth was that she probably never would.

Uncorked, the swanky little wine bar her date had selected, was half full when Molly arrived shortly before eight o’clock. She’d driven a good thirty minutes to Summitville, a moderately sized town that seemed to have a lot on Applewood in terms of sophistication. She could see herself spending more time in this neck of the woods, you know, if this whole thing were to work out. And it could work out. There was actually a tiny chance of that, she reminded herself, trying desperately to remain optimistic.

The lighting was fairly dim, but she was able to scan the tables for any sign of Diane, who purported to have dark red hair cut just shy of her shoulders. She didn’t see anyone who fit that description, but she did pause momentarily on the man and woman feeding each other strawberries in the corner booth. Show-offs. But she couldn’t help smiling at the cozy picture.

Easing into a table nestled in the heart of the room, Molly took a deep breath and waived the waiter off until her date arrived. Since she was only planning on one drink that night, she would wait so they could have it together over some getting-to-know-you conversation. That’s how it worked, right? She was pretty sure at least.

But when eight twenty rolled around, she started to get a little restless. Eight thirty had her beginning to feel sorry for herself, and by eight forty, she was reaching for her bag and car keys just in time for a hand to land on her shoulder from behind.

“You must be Molly. My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

She blinked a couple of times. Dark red hair. “Um, yes. Diane?”

“A pleasure to meet you. So sorry I’m late. I was with a client and couldn’t get away. I’m normally quite punctual.”

“Not a problem.” She could get past the delay. Not a big deal in the scheme of life. A little rude, but not a total deal breaker. Plus, she liked the mention of the word client. Seemed corporate. Established. Sturdy.

“Tell you what, I’ll buy you a drink to make up for it. What would you like?”

“Um…maybe a dry sav blanc?”

“Done.” She signaled the waiter and ordered two glasses of wine, impressing Molly with plenty of pleases and thank yous in the process. Points for manners. Nice.

Drinks arrived, and after some initial small talk about the town and the weather, Molly decided to jump right in and get the real conversation rolling. So far, all seemed very promising and the drink was beginning to relax her. “So, Diane, you mentioned a client. What is it that you do?”

“I see the future.”

Molly nearly choked on her wine. “So sorry. I’m not sure I heard you correctly. What did you say?”

Diane made a slow twirly gesture in the air. “I witness the future. In my mind. Then I meet with individuals who need guidance and channel all of the energies around them to read what lies ahead, in essence, their future. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Oh. Yes. So you’re a psychic?”

“I prefer the term seer.”

“Seer? All right. That sounds so interesting and…unique.” Do not judge. Do not judge. Do not judge. The chant in her head was all that was holding her neutral facial expression firmly in place. That and the fact that she was brought up to be polite.

“It is. You see, energy is very important to me and I’m picking up lots of positive energy from you right now. In fact, I see this evening going very well.”

Molly couldn’t be sure, but she thought Diane’s left eyelid was twitching.

“You do? Well, that’s good news.” She sipped her wine for no other reason than it would buy her time before she had to figure out what to say. Luckily, Diane grabbed the reins.

“Have you ever met with a seer before? Invested the time in exploring what lies ahead for you?”

“Hmm. No, I can’t say I have.” Yep, definite twitching going on.

“I can do a demonstration for you right now.”

“Oh, you know what? We don’t have to. Why don’t we just enjoy the evening and—”

“Listen to my words carefully.” Molly swallowed and listened obediently as Diane was now leaning into her space rather aggressively and speaking in a low-pitched voice.
Not at all creepy. Not at all creepy. Not at all creepy.
“In less than a minute, our waiter will stop by and check on us.”

“Okay.”

“Are you listening?”

“So listening.” And she was because she was scared to death not to.

“Marking my words?”

“Marked.” But really, it was a small place and their waiter had just visibly emerged from the kitchen moments before the whole proclamation. The odds were pretty much in Diane’s favor.

The moment was upon them. The waiter approached. Diane shot her a knowing look just as he passed their table for one two down.

In response to the misstep, Diane rubbed her left temple rhythmically, and was that humming? Oh, baby Jesus it was. She was humming. Fantastic. Molly tried to ignore the inquisitive stare from the guy next to her, but what she really wanted to do was get the hell out of there because the humming was growing in volume and intensity.