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"Haven't we all, though?" Molly asks him, pouring the iced tea she's been brewing since the evening before into a tall plastic cup full of ice. She spoons in a lump of sugar, squeezes a lemon wedge into it, and stirs the concoction before jabbing a straw into it and covering it with a lid. Molly passes the drink to Ephraim, who takes it with a grateful nod.
"Thank you, Ms. Molly. And sure enough we have. I came up back when you and I would have been forced to use different water fountains in Savannah. Times were different, and I traveled some hard roads."
Molly leans against the counter and gives Ephraim her full attention. "I bet you have. Tell me about your kids."
Ephraim takes a long drink from the iced tea. "First I'd have to tell you about Ida, who gave me all six of my glorious children. That woman was a saint put here on Earth to suffer fools like me with grace."
"Your late wife?" Molly guesses. She folds her arms across her chest and gets ready to listen to someone else's story there in the midst of her mid-morning lull at the coffee shop.
"Indeed she was. Don't know how I convinced a beauty queen like Ida Wallace to marry a goat like me, but somehow I did. In the first seven years of marriage she gave me Marlon, Maryanne, Mack and his twin brother, Michael, Mabel, and Miller. Six kids under the age of five." He gives a low whistle and takes another long drink of his iced tea, which is draining quickly. Without a word, Molly reaches for it and takes the cup, refilling it and doctoring it up just like she had the first time. She hands it back to him. "Ida took care of all of us," Ephraim says, looking out the window wistfully. "She was the head librarian at the Black library in our part of town, and somehow she still managed to cook a full dinner every night and she sent every kid to school looking clean as a whistle no matter how little money we had. She was a wonder, that woman."
"She sounds like it."
"I bet you're wondering how she passed, which is the normal thing, isn't it? People talk about loved ones long gone, and you want to know the how and why--I do too, every time."
"How did she pass, Ephraim?"
"That beautiful soul, God bless her every breath, she didn't wake up one morning. I was laying there next to her as the sun came up, and she was still as snow. I waited and waited, but didn't even have to reach over and touch her to know. Heart attack, they think. Was barely a day over fifty."
"Oh, Ephraim," Molly says, unfolding her arms and reaching out a hand to place on his arm. "I'm so sorry. For you and for your children."
"Thank you, Ms. Molly. I appreciate that. We've all had our losses, haven't we?"
"Mmm," Molly says, nodding in agreement. "I lost my Rodney when we were only twenty-six. Boating accident."
Ephraim makes a face like this news is physically painful. "No, ma'am." He shakes his head slowly from side to side. "Ain't no justice and fairness in this universe. You just have to enjoy what you can, and thank the good lord every day for blessing you with breath, health, and children." He pauses, realization dawning. "Wait, did y'all have any children before your man was taken from you?"
Molly is accustomed to the deepened sense of pity that she gets from people when they find out she's childless. "No, we didn't. We'd planned to sail the world together before we talked about having kids. Life just had different plans for us."
Ephraim nods at her and holds a hand in the air like he's in church, hearing nothing but truth spoken from a pulpit. "Amen to that. I'm sorry to hear it, Ms. Molly. All of it. I think you're a brave and fierce woman, and I'm grateful we got to know more about one another here." Ephraim tucks his bandanna back into his pocket and holds up the iced tea. "Thank you for this. Appreciate it more than you know."
"It's hot as blazes out there, Ephraim. Take care of yourself."
Molly watches as he makes his way out the door and down the sidewalk, headed back to the dock and then on to more deliveries to Okaloosa, Shell, and Santa Rosa Islands. It suddenly strikes her how long she's known Ephraim--how many years they've interacted and exchanged goods, services, and money--and yet known little at all about one another. It feels good to share and to listen. It feels important to be entrusted with someone else's history.
She supposes that must be how the other women feel listening to her share, which is something she's never been prone to do much.
A woman and her teenage daughter walk in wearing nothing but bikinis and sarongs with flip-flops. Molly smiles at them.
"Get you something cold to drink, ladies? An iced coffee? Cold passionfruit tea? An Arnold Palmer?"
She takes the orders and makes the drinks, but her mind is already ahead on the book club meeting that evening, and on the orange-cranberry loaf with icing that she's going to make to go with the bottle of Prosecco that's already chilling in her fridge.
If that sounds like a celebratory drink and dessert to bring to the meeting, well, then it is. Molly feels a lightness inside of her that she hasn't felt in years, and she's enjoying her moment in the book club spotlight far more than she cares to admit.
* * *
"Where were we?" Sunday asks without preamble.
The women are gathered in the bookshop that evening after making their way through the buffet of cakes and wines. In addition to Molly's cranberry orange with icing, there is also a moist chocolate with chocolate frosting, an angel food cake with sliced strawberries and fresh whipped cream, lemon poppy seed with a sweet raspberry jam drizzled over it, and a crumbly coffee cake with brown sugar and cinnamon. Heather is peeling the paper off a pink cupcake with rainbow sprinkles, and tonight, every woman is holding either a glass of Prosecco or wine--even those who normally stick to coffee or tea.
"We left off after you and Rodney's grandparents buried his ashes under the ginko tree in Nishinomiya," Ruby says, holding her plate with a tiny wedge of every kind of cake set out carefully on it. In her other hand is a silver fork, which she holds poised in the air as she speaks. "But before we go on, I have to know: what every happened to Rodney's aunt Kumi?"
Molly's eyes crinkle as she smiles at the memory of Kumi. "She lived to be ninety and absolutely refused to compromise on anything. She never settled down, never stopped being her fierce, colorful self, and died peacefully in a group home in a little town called Nikko. We stayed in touch until she died, and I have to tell you, she was one of the most influential people in my life, Rodney included. There was something about the honest way that Kumi lived and loved, and I admired her verve. She was so brave. Women of her age who refused to marry were kind of cast off as kooks, but she never cared." Molly reaches up and fingers the pearl on a rope that hangs around her neck every day. "I never take this off."
Vanessa inhales sharply. "That's the necklace? The one she bought for you in Tokyo?"
Everyone leans forward in their chairs to see it better and Molly holds the pearl between her fingertips. "The very one. Of course, I've had it restrung on new rope over the years, but I'm never without it otherwise. It just feels like a good luck talisman for me, and it always has been--especially when I needed it."
