"Uh… Molly? The view's pretty interesting from the back, too. And we've got company coming."
Sure enough, the Pearsons were approaching in the distance. They were barely visible behind beach chairs, tote bags, and a cooler.
Molly wasn't going to rely on Kevin's cooperation to get back to the cottage, so she headed toward the woods, holding the T-shirt away from her body in the front and back, while she stretched it to make it longer.
"If anybody throws you a fish," he called after her, "it's because you're waddling like a penguin."
"If anybody asks you to bray, it's because you're acting like an-"
"Save your sweet talk for later, Daphne. The garbage guys just drove up with the new Dumpster."
"Shut the lid after you climb in." She picked up her waddle and somehow managed to reach the cottage without further mishap. Once inside, she pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and laughed.
But Kevin wasn't laughing. As he stood on the Common gazing in the direction of the cottage, he knew he couldn't keep going on like this. It was ironic. He was a married man, but he wasn't taking advantage of the principal advantage marriage offered.
The question was, what did he intend to do about it?
Chapter 15
Daphne sprayed her favorite perfume, Eau de Strawberry Shortcake, in a big squirty puff around her head. Then she fluffed her ears, straightened her whiskers, and put on her brand-new tiara. Daphne Plants a Pumpkin Patch
After her dip in the lake, Molly showered and changed, then found herself walking out to the porch and gazing toward the table where she'd left the sack of art supplies she'd bought in town that morning. It was long past time to start work on the drawings.
Instead of settling at the table, however, she sat on the glider and picked up the pad she'd used yesterday to sketch Daphne diving off the cliff. She gazed off into the distance. Finally she began to write.
"Mrs. Mallard is building a summer camp on the other side of Nightingale Woods," Daphne announced one afternoon to Benny, Melissa, Celia the Hen, and Benny's pal Corky the Raccoon. "And we all get to go!"
"I don't like summer camp," Benny grumbled.
"Can I wear my movie-star sunglasses?" Melissa asked.
"What if it rains?" Celia clucked.
By the time Molly set aside the notepad, she'd written the beginning of Daphne Goes to Summer Camp. Never mind that she'd barely covered two pages, and never mind that her brain might dry up at any minute or that her publisher wouldn't buy this book until she did what they wanted to Daphne Takes a Tumble. At least she'd written, and for now she was happy.
The scent of lemon furniture polish greeted her as she walked into the B &B. The rugs had been vacuumed, the windows gleamed, and the tea table in the sitting room held a stack of Dresden rose china dessert plates with matching cups and saucers. Kevin's strategy of keeping the lovers separated until they'd finished their work seemed to be effective.
Amy emerged from the back with a pile of fresh white towels and took in the inexpensive canary-yellow sundress Molly had customized with four rows of colorful ribbon trim at the hem. "Wow! You look really cool. Nice makeup. I bet this'll get Kevin's attention."
"I'm not trying to get Kevin's attention."
Amy caressed the luscious little bruise at the base of her throat. "I've got this new perfume in my purse. It drives Troy nuts if I dab a little on my… well, you know. Do you want to borrow some?"
Molly avoided strangling her by making a dash for the kitchen.
It was too early to put out the apricot scones and oatmeal-butterscotch bread she'd made that morning, so she picked up her lovey and settled down with him on one of the kitchen chairs near the bay window. He tucked his topknot under her chin and rested his paw on her arm. She drew him closer. "Do you like it here as much as I do, pooch?"
He gave her an affirmative lick.
She gazed down the sloping yard toward the lake. These past few days in what she now thought of as Nightingale Woods had brought her back to life. She stroked Roo's warm belly and admitted that being with Kevin was a big part of it.
He was stubborn and cocky-maddening beyond belief-but he'd made her feel alive again.
For all his talk about how smart she was, he didn't have any trouble keeping up with her. Like a few other jocks she knew-Dan sprang to mind, along with Cal Bonner and Bobby Tom Denton-Kevin's passion for athletics ran side by side with a keen intellect that his doofus behavior couldn't hide.
Not that she'd ever compare Kevin with Dan. Look at the way Dan loved dogs, for example. And kids. And most of all, look at the way Dan loved Phoebe.
She sighed again and let her gaze wander toward the gardens in the back, where Troy had finally cleared away the winter debris. The lilacs were in bloom, and a few irises displayed their purple ruffles, while a peony bush prepared to open.
A flicker of movement caught Molly's eye, and she saw Lilly sitting off to the side on an iron bench. At first Molly thought she was reading, but then she realized she was sewing instead. She thought about Lilly's coolness toward her and wondered if she were reacting personally or to the bad publicity from the wedding?… the Chicago Stars football heiress who dabbles in writing children's books… Molly hesitated, then rose and let herself out the back door.
Lilly sat near a small herb garden. Molly found it odd that someone who played the diva so convincingly hadn't objected to being stuck away in an attic. And despite that Armani sweater tossed so casually around her shoulders, she seemed remarkably content simply sitting by an overgrown garden and sewing. She was a puzzle. It was hard for Molly to warm up to someone who was so cold to her, but she couldn't quite dislike Lilly and not just because of her old affection for Lace, Inc. It took courage to stick around in the face of Kevin's hostility.
Marmie lay at Lilly's feet next to a large sewing basket. Roo ignored the cat to trot over and greet her owner, who leaned down to pat him. Molly realized she was working on a piece of a quilt, but it didn't look like anything she'd ever seen. The design wasn't a neatly arranged geometric, but a subtly shaded medley of curves and swirls in various patterns and shades of green, with touches of lavender and a surprising dab of sky blue.
"That's beautiful. I didn't know you were an artist."
The familiar hostility that formed in Lilly's eyes gave the summer afternoon a January chill. "This is just a hobby."
Molly decided to ignore the freeze-out. "You're very good. What's it going to be?"
"Probably a real quilt," she said reluctantly. "Usually I do smaller pieces like pillows, but this garden seems to demand something more dramatic."
"You're doing a quilt of the garden?"
Lilly's inherent good manners forced her to respond. "Just the herb garden. I started experimenting with it yesterday."
"Do you work from a drawing?"
Lilly shook her head, attempting to put an end to the conversation. Molly considered letting her do it, but she didn't want to. "How can you make something this complicated without a drawing?"
Lilly took her time responding. "I start putting scraps together that appeal to me, and then I pull out my scissors and see what happens. Sometimes the results are disastrous."
Molly understood. She created from bits and pieces, too-a few lines of dialogue, random sketches. She never knew what her books were about until she was well into them. "Where do you get your fabrics?"
Roo had propped his chin on one of Lilly's pricey Kate Spade sandals, but Molly's persistence seemed to bother her more. "I always have a box of scraps in my trunk," she said brusquely. "I buy a lot of remnants, but this project needs fabrics with some history. I'll probably try to find an antique store that sells vintage clothing."