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“How will I get to the wedding?” There was something about a grown woman whining that made Molly want to poke her eyes out.
“We have cabs in Michigan, Janelle. Call one.”
Molly didn’t wait for a response. She ran upstairs and got dressed, grabbed the bag she’d packed the day before, and headed out into the sunshine. She’d just tossed her stuff in the back of her truck when she spied Link at the end of her driveway. He’d been out for a jog, his clothes damp with sweat and his hair plastered to his head. He held up his hand and grimaced. By the looks of things, he’d pushed himself hard.
“Hey,” she said, walking over to him with a smile. “You’re still here.”
“That I am.”
“I was meaning to stop by this week, but it’s been crazy with the wedding and work and…just stuff.”
“Right, your brother’s nuptials.” Link turned in a full circle. “It’s going to be a beautiful day for it.”
“It is,” she replied as an idea took hold. “What are your plans this afternoon?”
“I don’t really have any. I bought a book in town the other day. Thought I’d give it a whirl.”
“Why don’t you come to the wedding reception?”
“Wedding crashers? That’s really a thing in the US?” He stretched and rolled his neck.
“It’s not crashing if you’re invited.”
“That’s really nice of you, Molly.” He backed up and started jogging in place.
“So you’ll come? The reception starts at four at the Crystal Lake Golf & Country Club, the one on the other side of the lake.”
“I’ll think about it.” He gave a salute and disappeared down the road.
Twenty minutes later, Molly was sitting in a chair, feeling more than a little overwhelmed because she’d been ordered to let Janie the aesthetician have carte blanche with her face, and Carl, the senior hair stylist, immediately sank his hands into her hair and began pulling pieces every which way.
With all the hustle and bustle and the nerves and a few tears—Jessica and her mother especially—the morning flew by, and before she knew it, Molly was in her old bedroom studying her reflection in the mirror that leaned against the wall, not quite believing the woman who stared back was her.
Her hair had been swept into a loose bun, with braids woven in and wispy tendrils teasing her shoulders. It was casual and honestly looked like it had just been thrown together, but Carl had worked for over an hour on it, and it was perfect. Her makeup was subtle in color, yet powerful in impact. Never had her eyes looked so big and exotic, or her mouth so plush and soft. Her sink was baby smooth, and the zit she’d woke up with between her eyes had seemingly vanished.
Molly turned to the side, admiring the simple dress. It was a Grecian style that fell in an A line from her chest, the color somewhere between plum and nude. It was elegant, classy, and, man, did it make her look like she actually had boobs.
“What do you think, Alfred?” She looked at the python curled up in a terrarium by her bed.
“I think you’ve never looked so beautiful.”
“Thanks, Nana.”
Her grandmother sat on old red-orange-and-yellow-plaid chair shoved into the corner between the bookshelf overflowing with Goosebumps, R.L. Stine novels, Harry Potter, and The Babysitter Club series, and another bookshelf that held trophies from baseball, hockey, and track. She took a sip from the mug in her hand, and Molly shook her head.
“Coffee at noon, Nana?
“If you think this is coffee, then I’ve got swampland to sell you in Florida.” Her nana winked and held up the mug. “Want some?”
“I’m good.”
“When are you going to tell me about this young man of yours?”
Molly whipped her head back in surprise. “What? I don’t know what you mean?”
Her nana took another sip and raised an eyebrow. “I see the way he looks at you, and I see the way you look at him. It’s obvious you’re involved with each other.”
“No, Nana…I…” But the denial died on her tongue, because Nana Malone was, if anything, intuitive when it came to other people’s business. It was her greatest gift and one she had no problem sharing with folks whether they wanted to hear what she had to say or not.
