And for the first time in weeks, the smile on her face felt genuine. “I’m still the best friend though, right?”
“Right,” they answered in unison.
The rest of dinner consisted of talk about Journey, location scouting, and an agreement on some last-minute equipment purchases. They were scheduled to start shooting their first project in just five short weeks, and Jordan couldn’t have been more ready. Anything to distract her mind from the very acute sense of sadness she’d been inundated with these past few weeks.
George settled his chin onto his hand. “There is one more thing I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“I don’t think anything you could say will shock me more than you already have. Go for it.”
“I’m moving to Applewood.” He raised a hand to preclude her from interjecting too quickly. “Robert’s got the bar to run, and I’m perfectly capable of commuting. It shouldn’t change my role in the shoot at all, as most of it will be on location anyway. It just means on office days, I’ll have to wake up a little earlier to make the drive to the city. I’m capable of driving. I’ll even sing in the car.”
She thought it over in amusement. “George Underwood living in small town, USA. Someone should make a film about this . Who needs suicide forests?”
Bobby slid her a hopeful look. “You could move home too, Jordan. Make your parents happy.”
“That it would. But I think I’m best right where I am.”
George studied her. “You’re not over her, you know. Molly. And don’t look so surprised. I filled Robert in on all the details, and he brought to the table a few details of his own. We’re on to you. You act like it was just a little fling, a blip in your history, when we all know it was much more than that.”
“It was more than that. But it’s done now. The movie’s over.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Why are you running?”
She tossed her napkin onto the table. “You know what? There’s a lot there and I’d rather not get into it.”
“But look how miserable you are,” Bobby pointed out. “It’s written all over your face. Molly’s too. And now that Flour Child’s closing, she’s been even more withdrawn. Barely shows her face anymore.”
Jordan paused as her stomach dropped out from beneath her automatically. “What do you mean it’s closing? When did this happen?”
Bobby studied her curiously. “Molly put the word out a couple of weeks ago. Thursday is the shop’s last day. You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. Her parents hadn’t mentioned anything, but then Molly seemed to be a subject matter they purposefully avoided. She turned to Bobby as she tried to piece it together. “I don’t understand. She had a plan, a business deal with a distributor that would fund the business, get it back in shape.”
“I heard it fell through,” Bobby said. “The whole town’s broken up about losing the shop. Wish they’d thought of that before they gave so much of their business to that stupid Starbucks.”
George reached for her hand. “You’re not gonna leave her out there on her own on this, are you? Sweetheart, she could use some moral support about now.”
She pulled her hand away, her mood having taken a horrible hit after the news she’d just received. The concept of Molly without Flour Child was unthinkable, and it made her sick to her stomach just thinking about how Molly must be feeling. She could no longer concentrate on the conversation. Her brain had taken a sharp detour. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s important that I not upset her life right now.”
George gave her a long look. “And dropping out of it completely isn’t upsetting for her?”
Damn it, he had a point.
*
Jordan was pacing, which was so cliché and straight from some sort of Perry Mason movie that she couldn’t believe she was doing it. Yet, somehow it helped her think, or not think, which she thought might be a better alternative.
It was after ten. Too late to call. That and the fifteen other million excuses she’d dreamed up argued that she should skip the whole thing and watch boring late night television to dull her senses, possibly pour herself a scotch.
But, no. Absolutely not. She was more mature than that, and it was time to start acting like it. She decided to just go for it. Before she knew it, she’d dialed the number and held her breath as it rang a second, a third, and a fourth time. Finally, there she was.
“Hello.”
She closed her eyes at the sound of Molly’s voice. The voice she’d spent the past few weeks attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to push from her thoughts.
“Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you.
“Uh, no. Just in time though.”
A long pause. “How are you?
“Getting by. You?”
“I’m fine, I guess.” She kept her eyes closed against the onslaught of emotion she was already feeling. God, this was hard. “I heard about the shop today, and I wanted to call and tell you how sorry I am.”
“Thanks. Me too.” Molly blew out a breath and Jordan could tell she was settling into the conversation. Despite everything, they still seemed to be dialed into each other. “The deal fell through. It was all a sham. At least I think it was. Probably some sort of front for Tranton’s behind the scenes business transactions. He was arrested last week in Florida. He’s a criminal.”
“That’s horrible. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling.”
“It’s been hard. I had to tell my dad yesterday. That was the worst part.”
“How did he take it?”
“Just as you would imagine. He says all the right things. He’s the best dad ever, but underneath, I could tell it crushed him. I could see it right there in his eyes. He and my mom started the business in their early twenties. He trusted me with it and I—” Her voice was strangled when she broke off, and Jordan could tell that emotion had gotten her.
“Molly, listen to me. You did everything you possibly could. Everyone loves that place, and they just took for granted that you would always be there.”
“Thanks for saying that. It helps, I don’t know, to hear that from you.” A pause. “I guess I should go. I’m glad you called.”
“Me too. Hang in there.”
“I will.”
God, she missed her. “Molly?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we going to be okay?”
Another pause. “Maybe over time. This is a start. I suppose I’ll see you at the next family gathering. Fourth of July?”
“I love fireworks.”
“I know.”
“Good night, Molly.”
“Night.”
Jordan stared at the phone for a good twenty minutes before pulling herself off the couch and heading into her cold, empty bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-six
Early Sunday evening, Molly closed up shop for the day and headed off down the sidewalk to her car. She had four days left as a small business owner and then it would be time to decide what life had in store for her next. Deb Paulson, who owned the diner down the street, had offered her a position. She was hoping to spice up her dessert menu and was thrilled to have a chance to bring Molly in. That or she was just a nice lady who saw someone in need of a job. It could really be either.
She decided to pick up dinner for her dad. It would be a nice change from the cafeteria food. She carried the baked chicken into his room and found him staring intently at a chessboard midgame.
“Beating yourself again?”
He looked up and smiled. “I get so frustrated at how good I am. Look at this. I never seem to be able to take myself down.”
“Funny how that works. I hope you’re hungry. Fabulous daughter that I am, I’ve brought us chicken dinners.”
“I hope it’s fried.”
“No dice, Daddy. But I hear the baked is just as good.”
“You heard wrong,” he grumbled, but it was good-natured.
She set up dinner for them in the corner of the room by the window and opened it, so they could watch the sunset. There was a serenity about the meal and they ate in companionable silence for a bit. Finally, her dad sat back in his chair and regarded her. “So have you decided? Are you planning to take the job at the diner?”