Page 27 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“Fair enough. I’ll load up on their favorites for next week.” I tried again to leave the office, but I stopped. “You were asking me something?”

“Was I?” She shrugged. “I guess I forgot.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Thanks for coming down today. It’s nice to clear the air.”

“You’re welcome. Later.”

She nodded. “Bye.”

I walked out of the office, feeling better than when I’d come in. The air had been cleared. It was done. Molly and I would go back to the way things were.

Tonight, I’d be sleeping in my own bed with my own pillow.

Well, not exactly my own. It was Molly’s. In a weak moment, I’d taken hers with me during the divorce, not wanting to forget the smell of her fancy shampoo.

My feet paused. She kept my pillow. And I kept hers.

Six years was a long time for a pillow.

What did that mean?

Nothing. It meant nothing. It meant we were both too lazy to buy new pillows.

Didn’t it?

Four

Molly

Poppy and I each took a stool at the stainless steel table in the kitchen. After Finn had left earlier, I’d finished my office work then gone to work at the counter. The restaurant’s noon rush was over, and like we did most workdays, Poppy and I grabbed a salad from the fridge to eat together once things had died down.

Randall and Jimmy had left not long ago, heading back to The Rainbow for the rest of the day. I’d heard rumblings of a poker game with some of their other neighbors followed by a couple of hours enjoying Jimmy’s HBO subscription.

Rayna had also gone for the day, handing over counter coverage to Dora, our newest employee, who worked part-time for us while she went to school at Montana State. She’d caught on fast, so Poppy and I were leaving her on her own more and more these days.

I poured my salad dressing into the jar of vegetables, rescrewed the lid then shook the hell out of it. This was the best part of eating salad, even though Poppy’s were delicious. It was just that her macaroni and cheese was phenomenal. But I saved that for special occasions—and today was not one—so I dumped my mixed salad onto my plate and lifted my fork.

“Is everything okay between you and Finn?” Poppy asked the question I’d been expecting all morning. “When he closed the door to the office, I was worried you were fighting.”

“It’s good. We had to work out a few things with the schedule.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. We had agreed that his schedule would never again include sleeping at my house. “He actually mowed my lawn yesterday.”

“Who? Finn?” Her eyes widened. “That was, um, nice. Especially since he didn’t do it when you were married.”

I shoved a bite of salad into my mouth to hide a smirk. Poppy was possibly more irritated with Finn’s behavior as a husband than I was. She’d held on to that resentment for longer too, whereas I’d let it go—mostly.

“It was great not to do it for a change,” I told her. “It was either find the time or take Gavin up on his offer to do it for me.”

“Gavin wants to mow your lawn?” Poppy smiled as she forked some greens and wagged her eyebrows. “You should let him.”

“I’m blaming Cole’s influence for all the innuendo you’ve been dropping lately. He’s corrupted my sweet, demure friend,” I teased.

“He has corrupted me.” She smiled. “In the best possible way. Now I want someone to come along and corrupt you.”

“Nope.” I shook my head as I chewed. “I have a good life. I’m happy. No corruption needed, thank you very much.”

“On the days you have the kids, you are. But on the days when they’re with Finn . . .” She trailed off as she took another bite.