Molly (13 page)

“Molly, that’s who.” Clemmie spoke with the
assurance of a mother hen who knows each little chick. “She’s got
enough energy to fuel a rocket to the moon.”

“Tonight, I don’t have enough energy to reach
for another popcorn ball,” Molly said, and Clemmie tossed one to
her. “I’m thinking seriously about going back to Paris.”

“But why?” Belinda said. “We
love
having you here. Besides, if you leave, you won’t get to see
Samuel.”

“That’s smart, Molly,” Janet said. “You’re an
independent woman with a great future in art. If he really wants
you, make him chase you all the way across the ocean.”

“Listen up, everybody.” That was Bea for you.
Always taking charge. The great thing was that they all loved it.
“If Molly’s in love with my brother, that’s the best thing that
could ever happen to him. And if he doesn’t know it, I’ll kick his
ass!”

“You go, girl!” Belinda grabbed up her Pepsi
can. “A toast! To Bea kicking butt!”

They all toasted Bea’s successful
butt-kicking. Next they toasted Belinda’s baby-making process then
moved to Janet, who would be hanging out her shingle in the fall.
From there they toasted the men they already had and the ones who
would someday come into their lives. And last, but not least, they
toasted their Virginias.

“Long may they roar!”

That was Bea’s toast, and Molly thought that
said it all.

o0o

Standing in the huge living room of Janet and
Dan Albany’s gracious house on Church Street watching his mother
tie the knot with Jedidiah Rakestraw was especially painful for
Samuel. For one thing, Bea was glaring at him as if he’d committed
armed robbery. For another thing, he still wasn’t convinced that
his mother’s marriage was in everybody’s best interests.

But mostly, he couldn’t keep his eyes off
Molly. She was supposed to be one of the bridesmaids, and for God’s
sake why hadn’t she worn something sensible and discreet like Bea.
That dress she had on displayed every one of her assets, all of
which were mouth-watering. He didn’t know a damned thing the
preacher said.

He caught Molly’s eye and smiled. She smiled
back, but it was not the kind of smile that made a man want to do
handstands.

Thank God the minister finally pronounced
Glory Ethel and Jedidiah man and wife, and the whole damned thing
was over.

Moving quickly, Samuel took Molly’s arm.

“I need to see you in private.”

Ignoring the way his sister looked daggers at
him, he led Molly into a small book-lined study and shut the door.
His briefcase was on the desk where he had put it that morning
after he and his mother had arrived from Florence. They had come
straight to the Albany house—some fool notion about the bride not
seeing the groom till the wedding. One of Dan Albany’s baseball
caps hung on the back of a chair, and a half-chewed old rawhide
bone was evidence of dogs in the house. Good God, who in their
right mind would keep dogs in the house?

“Molly, we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s obvious. You’ve avoided me ever since
you arrived.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I was with the
wedding party.” She reached for the doorknob. “We should join our
parents.”

“They’ll never miss us. At least not for a
while.”

She looked so fragile standing there, so
innocent, so young. Ten years younger and less experienced than he.
He’d have to remember that.

“Molly, do you remember our encounter my
bedroom.”

“It wasn’t an encounter. It was an art
lesson.”

“You’re right. And you completely convinced
me about art. I was wrong.”

“What is this? Some new scheme of yours to
gain control? Some new plot you’ve hatched to tame me? Right?”

“Wrong. What I’m trying to tell you...” He
paused and laughed at himself. “I didn’t know I’d be so bad at
this.”

“Bad at what?”

“Molly, will you come and sit with me on the
sofa? I want to tell you a story.”

She looked askance at the leather love seat.
She didn’t relish the idea of being cooped up with Sam, but he
did
look sincere, and after all, he was family now.

“I’ll stay five minutes longer. Only five,
and if I’m not out of here by then, Bea is going to come charging
in here to see what you’re up to.”

“Let her come. I’m not scared of Bea.”

He watched as she sat as far away from him as
the small sofa would allow. He couldn’t help but remember the day
they’d met. He could still picture her in the slatted swing with
the sun shining in her hair.

“Molly, when I first learned of my mother’s
intentions to marry your father, I was very much opposed.”

“You thought we were after your money.”

“The thought crossed my mind. Primarily,
though, I was opposed because of you.”

“You’ve made that painfully clear.”

“I was wrong, Molly.”

He saw the play of emotions on her
face—astonishment, skepticism. And was that a little glimmer of
hope?

“You’re the most charming woman I’ve ever
met, and I was crazy to believe that having you in the family would
be anything except a pleasure.”

“That’s quite a pretty speech, and I believe
at least half of what you said.”

“Which half?” He smiled.

“The part about me being charming.” She gave
him an impertinent smile. “I like to be thought of as
charming.”

“Molly, I want you to know why I was so
determined to keep you out of my family.”

“You don’t have to justify your reasons to
me, Sam. You’ve admitted that you’ve changed your mind, and I’ll
accept that. Now, for the sake of Daddy and Bea and your mother,
let’s just be friends.”

“I want us to be more than friends.... I want
us to be lovers.”

“I should have known that all your pretty
speeches were just another ploy to manipulate me.”

She jumped up and stalked toward the door,
then turned for a last word.

“I wouldn’t climb into your bed if you were
the last man on earth.”

She slammed the door so hard, the antique
inkwell on Dan’s desk rattled.

Sam wanted to smash his fist into the wall.
He wasn’t accustomed to failing, and he’d failed royally with
Molly. One look at her, and he’d completely forgotten his careful
plan of wooing and winning.

He wondered how long he could sit on the sofa
and nurse his wounds. About three more minutes. Then his sister
would come steaming through with her fighting face on.

o0o

Molly didn’t even take the time to regain her
composure. She marched back to wedding party and went straight for
the table of champagne. She picked up a glass and downed it in four
gulps—and she didn’t even like champagne. She set the empty glass
down and picked up another.

“Dang, is my brother driving you to
drink?”

“He is.” Molly polished off the other glass,
and Bea grabbed one to join her. “He hates me. Maybe it’s my
dress.”

She eyed Bea’s sapphire silk dress, stunning
in its simplicity. Without the distraction of all that diaphanous
draping on Molly’s ill-chosen bridesmaid dress, Bea looked like the
empress of some small country. Her black hair was so glossy it
looked like patent leather and her big, dark eyes looked
bottomless. Killer looks ran in the Adams family. Molly couldn’t
look at her without thinking of Samuel.

“Your dress shot his blood pressure up ten
degrees.”

“Really?”

“I saw it all over his face when you walked
into the room.”

“Then why is he acting like such a
tyrant?”

“Because you’ve got the same bombshell looks
of that floozy out daddy ran off with, and he’s scared out of his
mind.”

“Good grief!”

“Daddy was a handsome man. Too handsome.
That’s what attracted Betsy Martin to him. That and his money.
She’d come to The Shoals to cut a record—she was a singer. A really
beautiful woman. Sexy, flamboyant—not at all like my mother.” Bea’s
glance swung across the room to Glory Ethel. “My mother is the salt
of the earth.”

“She is. Daddy will treat her like a
queen.”

“I know that.” Bea grinned. “Who would ever
have believed Match.com would work? Maybe I ought to put up a
bio.”

“Maybe I will, too. I could end up with a
hunk that would make Sam look like dog meat.”

“Girl, kick ass!” They clinked glasses.

o0o

Samuel came back to the wedding reception in
time to see Molly and his sister laughing their heads off. His
hackles went up. When Bea laughed like that, she was bound to be up
to something.

He headed that way, hoping to launch a
surprise attack, but Molly spotted him and hurried off toward her
daddy and Sam’s mother.

“What are you gawking at, Sam?” Bea said.
“Good God, you like those syrupy ads of doting fathers watching
their daughter’s graduation.”

“You caught me red-handed.”

“That’s what you get for having a brilliant
sister. How bad is it?”

“Very bad. Or very good, depending on your
point of view. I asked her to be my lover.”

“I hope she slapped you.”

“She didn’t, but she turned me down in no
uncertain terms.”

“Good for her.” Bea handed him a glass of
champagne. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’d better think of something fast. If you
let Molly get away, I might have to kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try, Big Britches.”

“Am I getting fat?”

“Good God, Bea, that was just a figure of
speech. What’s wrong with you?”

“The same thing that’s wrong with you. I’m
not getting any loving.”

Molly had to have air. She felt stifled and
it was all because of Sam standing over there drinking champagne
with Bea.

She knew the Albany house nearly as well as
she knew her daddy’s. It was a marvelous mixture of classy elegance
and interesting memorabilia. A Waterford vase shared space on a
Victorian hall table with an ancient one-eyed teddy bear. Farther
down the hall and through an archway, a huge watercolor of a
fanciful carousel presided over an 1860s walnut table.

Molly usually enjoyed the house as much as
she enjoyed the company of Janet and Dan, but not today. She paid
scant attention as she made her way to the backyard.

Outside she headed for the tire swing in a
corner of the fenced-in yard. Harvey, the Albanys’ mixed-breed mutt
who was napping under the oak tree, lifted his huge head, yawned
and then went back to dreaming. Lying contentedly by his side, the
poodle, Gwendolyn, didn’t even bother to spare Molly a glance.

“Everybody I see is paired off—even the
dogs,” Molly muttered to herself, and stopped to kick a twig that
had blown off the tree. She fitted herself into the tire swing, not
bothering to be careful with her dress. Then she pushed her feet
against the ground to shove off. There was something exhilarating
about flying through the air.

She closed her eyes, swinging back and forth,
waiting for the feeling to come.

“If I were an artist, I’d paint you like
this.” Samuel caught the edges of the tire swing and brought it to
a halt.

“Let me go... please.”

“I’ll never let you go.”

“Samuel...”

He held the swing a moment longer, gazing
into her face; then he gave it a gentle shove. Molly and the swing
went soaring through the air.

“Do you like to fly high, my sweet?”

“Yes.”

“I can take you high, Molly. Higher than you
ever dreamed.”

“You must be out of your mind.”

“And you smell like wind and
wildflowers.”

He gave the swing another push, and when it
came back toward him, he caught the rope and held her still.

“Molly, if I had two hundred years, it
wouldn’t be enough time to just look at you.” His brushed his lips
against her cheeks, and she felt shivers skitter down her spine.
“It would take another five hundred to explore your lips, and your
body would take an eternity.’’

“I wouldn’t let you explore my body with a
ten foot pole and furthermore…why are you laughing?”

He circled her waist and plucked her from the
swing.

“I’m going to woo you and court you and sweep
you off your feet.”

“Aren’t you worried about shocking polite
society?”

“Not anymore. I don’t know if I ever really
was.”

“You’ll be wasting your time, Samuel. I’m not
the marrying kind.”

He whooped with laughter.

“I don’t see anything funny about that.”

“What’s so humorous, my sweet, is that while
I’m still thinking of the courtship, you’ve zoomed ahead to the
marriage. I approve. We could get married and work everything else
out at our leisure. Preferably in bed.”

Dignity rose from her like steam from hot
asphalt. “I would never consider you for a husband. You are totally
unsuitable.”

“Tell me my failings.”

“Do you want me to name them all?”

“Be brutal.”

He was still smiling.
The cad.
She
began to count off his failings on her fingers.

“You’re a dictator. I don’t think you’re fond
of digging flower beds. I’ve never seen you act wild about dogs and
babies. Your idea of fun is tossing me over your shoulder and
parading me through a roomful of people.”

“Anything else?”

“Furthermore, I don’t even know whether you
like circuses and parades and chocolate sundaes with whipped cream
and cherries, and wonderful theater with music that makes you laugh
and cry, and popcorn with lots of butter on top.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“Because...” She looked into his face and
discovered that she couldn’t walk away without telling him at least
a part of the truth. “You have a life in Florence and I live in
Paris, and I’m going home.”

“You’re going back to Paris? When?”

“My plane leaves tomorrow morning at
seven.”