“How are you liking it so far, young man?” Mr. Brownstone asked. He walked slowly over to the Bundt cake tray, taking a slice for himself. “I’m sure Molly’s been an excellent tour guide.”
“It’s... the town is...” Nicholas stuttered and stammered, trying to come up with the right words to say.
He didn’t hate it here.
But he didn’t like it, either.
“Well, it’s not New York,” Molly answered the question for him, gently nudging him in his side. “I think it’ll take some time for Nicholas to get used to us.”
He tried not to react to her being so close. He could smell her shampoo and it made it hard to concentrate, which wasn't like him.
“Careful now, Nicholas. Once people get used to us, they tend to want to stay,” Mr. Brownstone said with a chuckle. “We’re a very likable bunch.”
Mrs. Brownstone scoffed at her husband’s words, before nodding towards Molly. “What colors did we get this year? Howard always picks such nice colors.”
“Give me just one sec...” Molly finished up her cake slice and she turned to the box of lights. She began to pull the strings out and lay them on the living room table, making sure they were properly extended against the hardwood. “We have red, green and white. Is that going to clash too badly with the outside? I didn't think about the paint color of the house when I picked them out.”
“That sounds perfect, Molly,” Mr. Brownstone
assured her. His voice was wheezy and he cleared it with a cough. He slowly ran his fingers along the wires. “Would you be able to help us put them up this year? Maybe when you get off work later?”
“It wouldn't take you very long, especially with this young man’s help,” Mrs. Brownstone said, nodding toward Nicholas. “I know how you Kerstmans feel about Christmas. You must be dying to put up some lights somewhere.”
Nicholas cringed at Mrs. Brownstone’s assumption. He opened his mouth to refute her, but once again, Molly took it upon herself to respond for his sake. “He’ll help! Of course he will. We’ll be back later tonight.”
“Of course I will?” Nicholas frowned as he glared down at Molly.
“Of course you will.” Molly’s reply was steadfast, like Nicholas couldn’t make her change her mind even if he tried. He had a feeling she could be stubborn.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Mrs. Brownstone turned back towards Molly, a smile now filling her round face. “We’ll see you two later tonight.”
“We'll be here,” Molly replied with a smile. “But now it's time for us to get back to work. Thank you for the cake.”
“Right. Thank you. See you later,” Nicholas mumbled, attempting to suppress his displeasure as he followed behind Molly back outside.
What had she gotten him into?
* * *
“What do you usually get for lunch? When you’re in New York?” Molly asked as she and Nicholas walked side by side down the pavement back to the store. “I'm afraid we don't have any sushi bars or steak places around here.”
“I’m actually more of a salad man,” Nicholas told her with a shrug. He brushed a bit of fallen snow off his winter coat. “It’s easy to make, plus it's healthy. I don't have to think about it.”
“So you’re saying that salad is very efficient,” Molly said, using the same intonation as he usually did. She laughed when he rolled his eyes at her, and Nicholas could feel his heart skip a solid beat at the sound.
He chose to ignore that reaction. “And what about you, Ms. Molly? Don’t tell me you just eat candy canes for breakfast, lunch and dinner?”
“I’m actually a very responsible eater. I just know how to relax around the holidays,” Molly replied with a grin. “Have you ever tried it? Have you ever tried relaxing?”
“You don’t get too far in my world by relaxing, Ms. Molly,” Nicholas said, shaking his head. “Hard work gets rewarded. Late nights get you promotions. And maybe, when you’ve done enough of both, you can finally open your own office in the heart of Manhattan and run things your way with a small team of people you trust.”
“I’m guessing that’s your story, right?” Molly asked, glancing up at him. “You did things the right way and now you’re living the dream?”
“The dream...” Nicholas pondered Molly’s phrase as he came to a standstill on the snowy sidewalk. “I guess I’ve never really thought too much about it. I’m not big on dreaming, Ms. Molly. I like having goals and reaching those goals. Dreams are unrealistic.”
“I always tell my kids that they should have dreams, even if they seem totally impossible,” Molly said, reaching over and touching his arm. Her touch was a wonderful jolt of electricity through him. “Dreams are one of the most important things in the world. They can keep us going, even when we feel like we’re all out of steam.”
“You have kids?” Nicholas’ question came out anxiously. He was still unsure of Molly’s relationship status, and in that moment, he regretted the previous skipping of his heartbeat.