After many long days of job hunting and being turned down mostly for a lack of experience, she’d stopped in at the Pan Handle for a cold drink and spotted the Help Wanted sign. Her smile shaky, she’d told Hank that she’d never waitressed, but she was a quick study and she badly needed a job. He’d hired her on the spot, earning a permanent place on her grateful list.
Of course, Molly worked hard and earned every cent she made. In three years, she was only two courses shy of enough accounting credits to take the state CPA exam. Dreams of her own company, her own business, kept her going through all the hours on her feet serving others and the late evenings she did typing, charging by the page. When that day came, she’d set up her office, hire a staff, eventually get a reliable car and maybe even a small house of her own.
Molly Shipman had vowed she’d never be beholden to anyone for anything ever again.
“So, you moving in soon?” Trisha asked, joining her after turning in two orders.
“I’ve got the weekend off.” She squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thanks for telling me about your mom’s vacancy. It’s perfect. Another hour and it would’ve been snatched up.” As she’d driven away from the duplex, a young couple had stopped their car, eyeing the sign Mrs. Bailey hadn’t bothered to remove and taking down the phone number. “I owe you.”
“I’ll settle for a cold drink. It’s been a madhouse in here since six.” Trisha bent to rub her sore calves.
Molly poured the drink, adding two sugars for energy the way Trisha preferred her tea. “Tell Danny the living room has a cable TV hookup for when he stays over.” A tall, slim brunette, Trisha was outgoing and dated a lot, often leaving her son with Molly evenings when her mother was unable to keep him. Molly had taught Danny to play chess and now he was beating her regularly.
“Will do. He’ll be thrilled.” Trisha took a long swallow, then left to check on her orders.
Time she got to work. Setting aside her glass, Molly put on a bright smile and walked to the front to greet an older couple who were regulars.
Hank’s gaze slid to Molly Shipman and his face relaxed. Of his three full-time waitresses, it was Molly who pleased him most. He enjoyed just looking at her. He watched now as she delivered an order to an older couple, then went to pour coffee all around for three truckers in a front booth. He saw their eyes wander over her slender frame, frankly admiring, boldly appraising. She laughed at something one of them said, then politely dodged their comments and one wandering hand as she wrote up their order. Little did they realize that no matter what they said or did, Molly wasn’t buying.
Unlike Trisha who flirted outrageously and dated frequently, in three years, Hank had never seen one customer get to first base with Molly. Oh, she was friendly to everyone, some more than others, but there it ended. She always went home alone and her phone number was unlisted. Hank didn’t know the story of her marriage or the reason for her divorce, but he figured she had to have had a rough time. Never once did she speak of those years. Divorced himself, he understood, but at nearly fifty, it wasn’t so surprising that he didn’t want another go around. But Molly was only twenty-eight, too young to want to be alone.
If only he was a little younger, Hank thought uncharacteristically dreamy. Then the scowl returned and he called himself a fool. What would a lovely young woman want with a slightly pudgy guy with thinning hair and a bad hip? He’d better keep such thoughts to himself if he wanted to keep Molly as a friend and an employee.
Molly stepped up to the service counter and raised a questioning brow. “You okay, Hank?” she asked, wondering at his grimace as she handed him her order slip. Hank was usually easygoing.
“Hector’s going to be late,” he complained, blaming his mood on that.
“Oh. If you need me to stay longer…”
That was Molly, always willing to help out, but he couldn’t let her do that. “Nah, we’ll manage. I hear you’re moving.”
“Yes, tomorrow.”
“I’ll get my nephew to help. We’ll go to your place with the truck. Is seven good?”
He’d known she’d been looking and had offered to help her move in some time ago. Still she hesitated, hating to accept favors and remembering that Hank had a bad hip. “Listen, Hank, you don’t have to…”
“That’s right, I don’t. I want to. Seven?”
She gave him a grateful smile. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
“Then thanks.” The bell over the door rang out. Molly swung around and waited for the new arrivals to seat themselves before going over with menus.
Carefully placing the last box in Bessie’s trunk, Molly closed the lid and paused to gather her shower-damp hair into a ponytail. Only April and already the daily highs were in the eighties, quickly approaching ninety, with four or five more months of summer ahead. You had to love heat to live in Arizona, she thought, settling behind the wheel. Fortunately, she did. She’d liked the weather in Colorado, too. She’d left for other more important reasons.
The car was loaded—trunk, backseat and even the passenger side—with boxes and bags containing nearly everything from her cupboards. If she could get her new kitchen in order tonight, she’d be ahead of the game, leaving tomorrow free to figure out furniture placement. Not that she had that much, just the necessities and a few luxuries that she’d managed to purchase over the last three years. But at least it was all hers.
She’d left her ex’s house without any of the lovely wedding gifts that her mother and sister had insisted were half hers. She’d taken not a plate nor pot nor pan from the kitchen, not a favorite photo or designer suit or piece of jewelry. Only her own things, though not the expensive clothes and jewelry Lee had gifted her with. She’d wanted no reminders of him or his marvelous family.
Even with no tangible evidence of her four-year marriage in the small apartment she’d moved into, it had been many months before she’d been able to sleep through the night without waking and remembering. Many long weeks when Lee’s hurtful words kept replaying in her head like a broken record spewing out a litany of her shortcomings. Endless days when she’d had to force herself to quit hiding and leave her small sanctuary to look for work. Though Lee had never laid a hand on her, she’d felt beaten up and beaten down.
But that was then and this was now, Molly thought, starting up old Bessie and moving out into traffic. She was beginning a new chapter in her life, a new place to live and, hopefully in about a year, more meaningful work that would lead to a bright future. She’d read somewhere that you can handle anything as long as you know one day it’ll end. That thought kept her going.
The sky over the McDowell Mountains was streaked with orange and purple in preparation for one of Arizona’s spectacular sunsets. Tonight Molly scarcely noticed as she flipped on the radio and heard a bluesy voice sing about moving on. She laughed out loud. Yes, that’s exactly what she was doing, and it felt good.
She was humming along when she turned into her new driveway and saw that her neighbor’s Harley was parked alongside the backyard fence. And there, guarding the gate, his black eyes on her and his ears on alert, was the biggest German shepherd she’d ever seen.
Slowly, Molly got out of her car, wondering if he could jump that fence, wondering how fast she could run after a long day on her feet. He was beautiful, she couldn’t help thinking, but dangerous-looking. His coat was mostly tan with black markings and he hadn’t moved a scant inch, just stood watching her. Drawing in a deep breath, Molly decided she’d best make friends with him if they were to share a yard. Determined not to show any fear, she walked closer.
“Better let me introduce you,” Devin said, coming down the back stairs. “If you’re with me, King knows you’re okay.”
“Fine,” Molly said, never taking her eyes from the dog.
Devin