“Good morning, Mr. Jeffries. Sorry about the wait. Just taking care of a few things in the back. Your usual?”
Mr. Jeffries eyed the display case suspiciously. “What are those?”
She followed his gaze. “Caramel apple cinnamon rolls. Made with cream cheese frosting. My father’s recipe.”
He studied her skeptically. It was rare for him to deviate from his standard blueberry muffin. He was a staunch creature of habit. “Are they fresh?”
“Made this very morning.”
He rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t stand another minute of her. It was part of his charm. “I’ll take two and a cup of joe. Regular, not decaf .” He scowled deeper. “Don’t you think you should write it down, for heaven’s sake?”
She grinned patiently. “Two cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee. I think I got it.”
“Good thing you can bake or you people would run this place into the ground. Your father never used to keep his customers waiting. Where’s Louise?” He scanned the area behind the counter for any glimpse.
“Around here somewhere, I hope.” Louise, her elderly employee, was MIA but happened to be the one person Mr. Jeffries seemed to tolerate. Which meant he was hot for her.
Molly prepared his order as she did every morning, and as he headed off to his regular table by the window, she turned to her next customers, a young couple smiling brightly, a toddler at their sides. In fact, one of the most adorable toddlers she’d ever seen. “Morning, guys. Welcome to Flour Child. What can I get for you?”
“Well, you’ve already sold us on the cinnamon rolls, I think,” the man said. “And an orange raspberry muffin too. The lady at the inn said we have to try those.”
Molly nodded knowingly as she rang them up. “That’s Alice. She’s a fan.”
The wife smiled. “She insisted we stop by. Said you had pastries sent by God himself. The best in Illinois.”
“Well, Alice leans toward hyperbole, but they are pretty good. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”
“Are you the owner?”
Molly nodded. “I am.”
“It’s such a cute little place. So much character.”
Molly looked around, taking in the bakeshop through new eyes. Checkered tablecloths, lots of framed art, photos from over the years. “Thanks. My father opened the place not long after I was born.” She pointed to Flour Child’s logo on the wall affectionately, zeroing in on the little girl with the halo of flowers in her hair. “And that’s me. My dad’s retired now, but he’s left us all his great recipes, and hopefully, I’ve added a few decent new ones.” She handed them their plates. “Enjoy and come back and see us.”
“We definitely will.” The family picked out one of the five tables in the shop and sat down to enjoy their breakfast. As she wiped down the counters, Molly’s gaze drifted back to the couple and she watched as they fed the toddler, encouraging her to taste the cinnamon roll and laughing when she grinned back at them in lip-smacking approval. She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she and Cassie would have laughed with their own child, if they’d had one. With so much warmth and adoration. She’d like to think so.
She shook herself out of it.
Cassie’s commuter plane had gone down four years ago.
Actually, four years, two months, and a handful of days, but somehow it didn’t seem that way. It felt like yesterday that Cassie was teasing her or whispering sweetly in her ear each morning.
It was easier now, thinking about Cassie. But it was moments like these that Molly wondered if she’d ever get a chance at a family of her own someday. She wanted that. Kids, someone to share it all with, the whole deal. And other than the debut of her first two gray hairs, the ones she’d hastily plucked from her head that morning, it seemed she was still capable of having them.
She sat on the stool.
Time was marching on, and sometimes she felt like it was marching on without her. Thirty-two years old was still young…kinda. She wandered back into the kitchen and did what she always did when something was on her mind. “What do you think, Cassandra? Is it time for me to get back on the horse?”
Silence. As there always was when she talked to Cassie.
But there were times when she felt Cassie’s presence in her life; she was sure of it. The number eight had a way of showing up a lot, and she suspected strongly that Cassie had something to do with it. It had been her favorite number if for nothing else than the Magic Eight Ball she consulted for all important life decisions.
“Sorry I’m late.” Eden Young rushed into the kitchen and began putting on her apron, pulling Molly abruptly from her thoughts. “Bless her heart; my next-door neighbor didn’t know how to program her cable box. One sandwich short of a picnic, that one. I had to step in and help out and…” She paused and shot Molly a curious glance. “What is it, sugar? You look like you just solved the mystery of life for all of us.”
“Eden.” Molly turned to her best friend and employee thoughtfully. “I think I might be ready to start dating again.”
Eden’s eyes widened in supreme delight and she shook Molly’s hands eagerly. “Well, hallelujah. It’s like a hug from little baby Jesus in here.” Eden’s Southern sass was out in full force today. “What, may I ask, brought this on?”
“I don’t know. There was the cutest little family in the shop earlier, and I watched them and thought, yeah, I want that. And I do. I think I’m ready to take that step.”
Eden clapped her hands once. “Well, who’s it going to be? Who’s the lucky girl you’ve got your eye on?”
Molly was at a loss. She didn’t have her eye on anybody. In all honesty, Cassie had been the only woman she’d ever been with, and they’d been a couple since high school. The concept of dating at all was a little foreign to her.
Then there was the little matter of living in a small town.
The lesbian-to-Molly-ratio was crazy small. There was Celia the librarian, but she was at least twenty years older. Savanna and Trish were both great, but, well, they were a couple already. That left Summer Siller, who she’d gone to high school with. Summer had never quite forgiven her for taking Cassie off the market and still seemed to have it out for Molly to this day. Summer was definitely not a prospect. In fact, Summer should be avoided at all costs. Summer was lesbian Satan. “I think I’m going to have to broaden my horizons. Maybe look beyond the borders of Applewood.”
Eden did a little hop. “Sugar, I know just the person to call. My friend Paulene lives two towns over and knows absolutely anyone who is worth knowing. I’ll put a call in to her, and we’ll have more lesbians than you can shake a stick at lining up for you.”
Molly’s face went hot and she felt all sorts of reluctance. “You know what? This whole thing sounds a little too crazy. Bad idea. Are we sure I should be doing this? I think we should rewind.”
“Don’t you dare back out now. This is progress.” Eden took a step forward, her eyes steely in almost scary determination. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to utter those adorably tentative words you said earlier? Since God was a baby, that’s how long. Now stand up straight and be strong.”
Molly stood tall for no other reason than because Eden said to and she was a little frightening in this moment. “Strong. Got it. Working on it. A little.” Seriously, who was she kidding?
“Sorry I disappeared on you, Mollydolly.” Louise puttered in carrying a brown paper sack. Saved by the bell! Or the little old lady who worked for her. “The used bookstore next door was having a sale, and I scurried in to pick up some of their old recipe books. I knew you wouldn’t miss me.”
“What, had to beat the crazy crowd?” Eden deadpanned because there wouldn’t have been one.
“I had to beat old Mrs. Bleakerson is what I had to do. She’s getting on in years, but she’s aggressive when it comes to her marinades. I’m stronger though.” Molly smiled because Mrs. Bleakerson was sixty-one and still nine years younger than Louise herself.