Page 42 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“No.” Those reasons were still there, floating under the surface. “He’s been sending me letters.” Well, someone was sending me his letters.

“What kind of letters?”

“There’s only been two, but they’re both from ages ago. The first one he wrote after our first date. The second was written the night before he proposed.”

“And they’re bringing up feelings,” he guessed.

I nodded. “I was happy. We were happy.”

“And you’re not now.”

“No, I’m happy. But it’s not the same. It doesn’t run as deep.”

Randall took another bite, chewing as slowly as humanly possible. Then he did it again. I was sure there was a point to his silence, and he’d deliver it eventually, so I sat and waited.

Finally, he spoke. “That boy was terrible to you when I first started coming here.”

“I know. But he was hurt.”

“You always defend him,” he grumbled. “The man was an asshole and you didn’t deserve

that.”

No, I did deserve it. But I wasn’t going to expand on the dirty details for Randall. Finn had been acting out of pain. The cold shoulders, the blank stares. I’d earned every single one.

“He hasn’t acted like that in a long time,” I said.

“He’s still a fool.”

“Thank you.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

He shrugged. “It’s been a long time. And don’t go gossiping about this. I don’t need everyone putting their noses into my business. It’s ancient history.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“It’s not a secret,” he muttered. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Got it. Not a secret. But keep my mouth shut.”

“Right.”

Randall finished his dessert while I sat by his side. When he was done, he pulled on his driving cap and picked up his cane. “I’d better get home. Check on Jimmy. The big baby thinks he’s got the damn plague instead of just a runny nose.”

“Let me send some stuff with you.” I hopped off my stool and hurried around the counter to fill a paper bag full of chicken noodle soup and some apple pies. “This is for Jimmy. You get one of these pies. He gets two. And I’m going to check that he receives them both.”

“Fine.” He scowled. Without another word, he took the bag and turned, shuffling his way to the door.

“Randall?” I called before he could leave. He paused but didn’t turn back. “Thank you.”

He lifted the cane in acknowledgement as he continued out the door.

I made a quick round of the restaurant, checking on the other two customers and making coffee for a woman who came in for a to-go order. Then I settled in at the counter, my purse beneath my feet.

Normally, I kept my purse in the office, but today I’d brought it out front because of the letter. Carefully, I fished it out to read again.

There were no tears this time. I felt more numb than sad. It was the same feeling I’d had walking into Alcott Landscaping. I hadn’t set foot there in years, not since that night. It was eerie, like returning to the scene of a crime.

But I’d had to confront Finn. I’d worked up the courage because I needed to know why he’d sent the letters. One I could ignore. But two? Impossible.