Page 26 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“I’ll bring the kids over after I pick them up from school.”

“Then chaos starts the following week.”

She blew out a long breath. “This summer is going to be crazy.”

The kids had one activity lined up after another to keep them busy so we could both work. Kali was registered for five weeklong camps over the three-month school break. Max had four. Only two of them overlapped on the same week, which meant Molly and I would be chauffeuring kids all over the county.

Meanwhile, it was the busiest time of year for Alcott Landscaping.

“I don’t see a lot of sleep in my future.”

It was a joke, but Molly didn’t laugh. “I can keep the kids longer if you need to work. I know things are crazy in the summers.”

“No, it’s fine. I was joking.”

“Were you?”

“Yes.” No matter how much happened, my time with the kids was sacred. I’d work longer hours when they were at home with Molly.

“Okay. I know they’d hate to miss time with you.”

“I’d miss them too.” I already hated the nights we were apart. “So, see you Monday?”

“Monday.”

I stood from the desk and walked to the door, waving good-bye as I opened it.

But before I could go back into the kitchen, Molly said, “Wait, Finn. There’s something else.”

I turned back. “Yeah?”

She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Her eyes dropped to her purse as she studied it for a moment.

“Why did you leave that . . .”

I waited but she just kept staring at her purse. “Why did I leave what?”

Before she could answer, my sister’s voice carried down the hallway. “Finn!”

“Yeah,” I called back.

“Mom wants to know what she should send home with you tonight for dinner.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need anything.”

“If you don’t choose, she will.”

“Fine. Give me one minute.” I turned back to Molly. “I know how to cook. I’m actually pretty decent.”

She pulled in her lips, holding back a smile.

“What? I am. Ask the kids. Kali said the spaghetti I made for them this weekend was my best yet.”

“I’m sure it was your best.”

“Thanks.” I turned for the door but backpedaled. “Wait. Do you know something? Do the kids not like my cooking?”

“I think they like it just fine. I think they love their aunt Poppy’s chicken potpies and their grandma’s tater tot casserole.”