Page 70 of Mistletoe and Molly
“Wish I knew more,” he said. “You two take care now.”
They said their good-byes and left, walking carefully on a sidewalk that was slippery with uncleared snow. She waited, flipping up her coat collar and wishing she’d worn a hat as Jonas stepped from the curb to hail a taxi.
One pulled over in record time and he bustled her into the back. He gave directions to the driver and closed the panel between the back and the front of the taxicab. “I can’t wait to get back to the hotel and get you into bed,” he murmured into her ear.
Bridget leaned her head back on the warm vinyl and let him kiss her silly. She didn’t think too much during the ride uptown, looking out only when they went through Time Square, awed by the gigantic electronic signs, flashing in giddy glory. There were so many that it was hard to tell there were buildings behind them all. Gorgeous as the sight was, it unnerved her. Bridget enjoyed New York and its tremendous energy, but she felt a pang of longing for her quiet little home town.
Winter hit Vermont in earnest a week after they got back. The temperature dropped well below freezing and stayed there. Bridget was busy with the Christmas rush at the store all the same, and grateful she had Mrs. Dutton to help. Jonas was just as busy at his office, treating a bumper crop of sprains and simple fractures caused by falls on snow and ice. He was doing his damnedest to take care of all the patients who came in. If it wasn’t for Schulzy, the nurse he’d hired, he would have been completely overwhelmed.
When a night of unexpectedly heavy snow closed schools throughout the county the next day, Bridget brought Molly to the store and let her do her homework on the computer. She took a few minutes to go online herself, holding Molly in her lap to show her a few of the sights they’d seen in New York: the Rockefeller Center skating rink, the public library lions, and the Moondance diner. As Bridget had thought, Molly loved the diner and begged to go to New York so she could see it.
Bridget kissed her daughter’s silky hair. “Maybe in summer.”
“But you and Jonas had so much fun. I need a vacation, you know.”
“Christmas break is almost here, honey. You get two weeks off and you can see your friends in Randolph.”
“I have an idea,” Molly said eagerly. “Take me and Vicki to New York.”
“That might not be a vacation for me,” Bridget laughed.
“Oh, Mo-om. We’d be good.”
“I’m sure you would be. But there’s a right time for everything and right now …” She hesitated. “We’re going to stay in Vermont for Christmas like we always do.”
“But you got to go.”
Bridget winked at her daughter. “That’s because I’m a grown-up and sometimes grown-ups get to go first. Ever think of that?”
“No.” Molly stuck out her lower lip.
“Stop sulking. I’m not going to give in.”
Molly snapped out of it, and tried asking for something else she was a little more likely to get. “Can I sleep over at Vicki’s tonight? After we make the Christmas cookies?”
Bridget thought about it. If Molly was gone, then Jonas could come over later. She missed him. More than that, they had to talk. The question-and-answer session that had ended with her father’s explanation wasn’t enough. She couldn’t stall indefinitely. Bridget didn’t want to start a new year without really talking to Jonas at last. There were still things he didn’t know … and it was never going to get any easier to explain.
“Mom? You’re a million miles away.”
“Huh? Oh—sorry. Sure, you can sleep over at Vicki’s.”
Molly slid off her mother’s lap. “Yay!”
“If your homework is finished.”
“The cookies are going to be beautiful, Mom!” Molly declared in a loud stage whisper as she bent over the counter to get a better look.
“They won’t be if you don’t get out of my light,” Bridget warned.
Dutifully, Molly leaned back as Bridget added the finishing touches, outlining the gingerbread men and women with white icing. There was only one man left. Bridget paused to add more white icing to the decorator tube.
“Can I put candy buttons on them now?” Molly asked.
“Wait until I’m through,” Bridget answered, hiding a smile at her daughter’s impatience. Molly always got like this around Christmas. Bridget had taken all the wrapped presents over to her parents’ house, otherwise Molly would have poked and shaken every single one a thousand times—and guessed what most of them were. Patience was not Molly’s strong point and never had been.
Bridget had barely begun squeezing from the tube when there was a loud knock at the door. The suddenness of it made Bridget squeeze too hard and squirt a glob of icing onto the gingerbread man’s face. She cursed beneath her breath and reached for the knife.
“See who it is, Molly,” Bridget ordered and started to repair the damage to the cookie.