“Risky. You’re not going to put me to work, are you?”
“I can’t make any promises. How are you with an industrial-sized mixer?”
“I’ve won awards for my mixing.”
Molly studied her. “Impressive.”
Jordan laughed and Molly relaxed, her troubles forgotten for a moment. There was something about being around Jordan again that eased her spirit. Maybe it was that she reminded her of Cassie. But no, on closer examination that simply wasn’t the case.
First of all, they looked nothing alike. Cassie had been blond with pale blue eyes she’d inherited from her father’s side of the family. Jordan, on the other hand, was all her mother. Her eyes were a much deeper blue, which contrasted nicely with her dark-as-night hair that fell just past her shoulders.
Then there was the intense difference in their personalities. Cassie had always been a bit more serious, a take-charge kind of girl others looked up to in admiration. Jordan was much more laid back, a friend to everyone, and always on the lookout for a good time. It was her fly-by-night attitude that used to frustrate Cassie to no end, but Molly had always found it rather endearing. “So tomorrow then?”
“How could I miss it?”
“’Night, Jordy. Don’t get arrested.”
“’Night, Mol. No promises.”
*
Jordan watched through the window as Molly got into her car. She’d expected her to look different somehow, either older or altered by loss. But that simply wasn’t the case. Nothing about Molly said widow. She swallowed hard. If anything, Molly looked more vibrant, more beautiful than ever before. Her light brown hair was now accented with subtle blond highlights. It was a tad shorter, but she’d worn it down, which showed off a few sassy layers that added a whole new hip quality she hadn’t seen on her before. But her chocolate brown eyes still danced.
And thus, she was stuck.
She hadn’t made a plan for how she’d handle the Molly situation and the complicated layers that came with it. She’d meant to, but she’d hoped it would be a nonfactor. It was a schoolgirl crush once upon a time that was fun to reminisce about in her head. That was all.
As the gathering came to a close, Jordan declined rides from everyone who offered and opted to walk home that night instead. Enjoy the stroll. The streets of Applewood were generally pretty quiet after ten. Small towns tended to close up early. The stars gleamed brightly overhead and fresh air filled her lungs. As she passed The Owl Tree, the town’s token bar, music drifted faintly from inside and she could make out a few shadowed figures knocking back a couple with their buddies. She contemplated heading inside for a beer when a voice behind her snagged her attention.
“Jordan Tuscana? Am I hallucinating on the sidewalk or are you actually standing here in front of me?”
She turned and smiled. “Hey, Summer.”
Summer Siller closed the short distance between them on the sidewalk, stopped in front of Jordan, and took her in. “Wow. The water in Chicago is to be commended. Bottled even. You look great.”
Jordan rolled her eyes. “Come on.”
“When did you drop back into town, and more importantly, how long are you staying?”
“Today and I’m not sure. A little while, at least. No exact plans on that.”
Summer nodded, still drinking her in blatantly. It was actually kind of amusing. They’d gone to school together. Summer had been two grades ahead, and into boys for only the first half of her time in high school. Kind of like Jordan. “You look good. Even better than the last time I saw you, which says a lot.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Prove it and buy me a drink. We should catch up.” But she didn’t wait for answer and was already tugging Jordan in the direction of the bar.
“Actually, I was just heading home. Long day.”
Summer turned back, her heavily made up face fell dramatically. “If you humiliate me now, I may never recover.”
She held Summer’s gaze and contemplated her next move. A little distraction couldn’t hurt. She could unwind a bit from the day, shoot the breeze with Summer, see who else she might run into from the old days.
She slid Summer an easy smile. “Why not?
Except an hour later, when she had to peel Summer off of her like a fruit roll-up, she could have easily answered that question.
“What did you think of me in high school, Jordan?”
“Uh, quite honestly, you terrified me in high school. I watched you chase after my sister like it was your job.”
Summer laughed. “We were just kids back then. If I had known you were an option, I might have chased after you. Everyone kind of thought you were just trying to be like your sister when it came to dating girls.”
“Yeah, including my parents. Fun times. It took them years to believe this is actually who I am.” Taking a last swallow of her beer, Jordan turned to Summer, whose chin now rested on her shoulder while her hand wandered a bit too boldly inside Jordan’s jacket. “You know what? It’s getting late. I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Summer refocused her attention on Jordan’s ear and purred softly into it. “I live a block from here.”
Any other day, Jordan would have accepted such an obvious invitation, but for whatever reason, tonight just wasn’t the night for it. Summer was nice enough, attractive too. Probably it was the drive, or the head trip being back in Applewood brought on, but she’d much rather just head home and curl up in bed. Forget the way her parents had once again marginalized her career and her life choices.
She caught Summer’s hand and pulled it from its audacious placement on her stomach and kissed the back of it. “Another time. But thank you for the company.” She dropped a twenty on the bar to cover their drinks.
“Sweet dreams, Jordan Tuscana. We’ll talk soon.”
“I bet we do. Thanks for the company.”
Chapter Three
Flour Child was fairly peaceful when Jordan rolled in just before eleven that next morning. There was an elderly couple at the table in the corner, but the rest of the place sat empty. Molly was occupied in the back, but after hugging her to pieces, Louise set her up with breakfast and some coffee on the house. It wasn’t long though before Molly appeared, half covered in flour, but smiling as if she’d had the best morning. She easily warmed up a room. “Morning, sleepy head.”
Jordan leaned back in her chair, jumping right past morning greetings to the heart of the matter. “Who made this?” The cinnamon roll she was currently inhaling was unreal, beyond that even. “I need to look this person in the eye.”
Molly beamed and snapped Jordan playfully with the towel she carried. “I did. Who did you think made it?”
She rubbed her arm. “Ouch. Mean. For real?”
“Yes, for real. Why do you doubt me?” She pointed to the little girl on the logo above the counter and then back to herself. “Flour child. Nice to meet you.”
“I remember this place being good, but not this good. Have you sold your soul for baking secrets? Is that what’s happened here?”
Molly slid into the chair across from her and rubbed the back of her neck. She’d probably been up since o’dark thirty, which made Jordan feel a little sheepish for the nine hours she’d just stolen. “That would be a better story, but no. The truth is that I’ve been experimenting a bit. Tweaking some of our older recipes and developing a few new ones. With all the Starbucks popping up like Whack-a-mole, we have to step up our game, and even that hasn’t been enough. When the newest store opened right at the edge of town, our morning traffic took a real hit. Take a look around.”