The next day she wrote and mailed a quick note. Thank you for the lovely apology. Accepted. She hesitated for a long time over the salutation, but finally added, Love, Molly. She told herself it was appropriate considering he’d signed his note with “love.”
That very evening she had to attend the school board meeting to be available to discuss concerns about union demands for improved benefits for classified employees. The meeting droned on, mostly focused on changes in the elementary school gifted program. By the time she walked in the door, she was dragging. She bet she wasn’t the only person there to resent the huge waste of time this close to the holidays.
“Cait?”
No answer. Which probably only meant her beloved daughter had earbuds deafening her to anything but some kind of alternative rock. But when Molly went upstairs, she found Cait’s bedroom empty. She frowned, but it was only nine-thirty. Their unofficial curfew for school nights was ten, unless something special—and previously discussed—was happening. Molly went back downstairs and put the teakettle on.
The doorbell surprised her. Had Cait lost her key? Molly hurried to the front of the house and opened the door.
Richard loomed on her porch. Surprise robbed her of breath. He looked so good—every cliché of tall, dark and handsome. He must have changed after work, and now wore jeans, a heavy sweater and down vest, increasing his bulk. His expression, though, was closed, his dark eyebrows drawn together.
“Richard?”
“I’m here for Trevor,” he said. “He left me a message saying something was wrong with his car.”
“But…he’s not here. Neither is Cait.” Illogically, she craned her neck to look past him. The only vehicle at the curb for fifty feet either way was Richard’s pickup. “I don’t know where they are,” she added.
“Cait didn’t say?”
“No, I had a school board meeting this evening.” She saw the visible puff of his breath and realized how cold it was tonight. “Please, come in,” she said, stepping back.
He did, and shut the door behind him. His presence became even more overwhelming in the close confines of the entry.
Rattled, Molly tried to focus. “When I got home, Cait wasn’t here. I didn’t see a note.”
“Can you check?” he asked.
“I thought I had, but I’ll look again.”
The teakettle whistled, and she jumped. “Excuse me.” It was no surprise when he followed her to the kitchen and watched as she poured her tea. Wondering if she should offer him a cup, she stole a glance at his face and decided. No. He wasn’t here to chat with her.
There was no note affixed to the refrigerator with a magnet or on the breakfast bar. “Wait! My phone.” On the way back to the entry, her eye was caught by the arrangement of roses and lilies. She saw that Richard was eyeing the flowers. “By the way, thank you.”
“Thank you?” There was something strange in his voice, but she was in the act of digging her cell phone out of her purse.
“I set it to vibrate while I was in the meeting,” Molly explained.
No messages, but one text had arrived.
Mom we had an accident. Okay but at ER.
Heart pounding, she held out her phone to Richard, who looked at it and swore.
“If this was Trevor’s fault, I swear I’m yanking the car again.” His dark eyes met hers. “Damn it, Cait’s pregnant, and he couldn’t drive more carefully than this? Listen, I’ll run up there and call you when I know something.”
“I’m going, too.” She shoved her feet in shoes and grabbed a parka. “Hold on, let me make sure I turned off the stove.” When she got back, she asked, “Would you rather I take my own car?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said brusquely.
He waited while she locked up, and then opened the passenger side of his truck for her. The drive to the hospital was short and silent until he was pulling into a parking slot near the emergency room entrance.
“What were you thanking me for?” he asked. He set the brake.
“The flowers.” She’d spoken into the sudden silence after he had turned off the engine. When he didn’t say anything immediately, her heart stuttered. “I thought… That is…”
“That I sent them?” he said slowly.
“There was a card.” Oh, Lord, this was embarrassing. She knew her cheeks were heating, hoped he couldn’t tell in the diffused lighting of the parking lot.
“Let’s go in,” he said.
His stride was so long, she had to hustle to keep up. She heard the beep as the doors locked behind them. “I must have a secret admirer,” she said lightly and probably unconvincingly. Who would have done this?