Page 61 of Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar 2)

“Hey.” Jimmy had just shoved another bite in his mouth and with his shout, little crumbs went spraying. “Where are you going?”

“Find your own ride home. Maybe Brady can drive you on his plastic tractor.”

I giggled, quickly covering my mouth with my hand. My laughing would only make it worse.

“Get back here,” Jimmy ordered. “Poppy made fresh apple pie this morning and I’m not missing it.”

“I’ll leave if I damn well want. And you’re not getting rides from me anymore.”

In six years, that was the 729th time he’d made that threat. Poppy and I had a running tally beneath the cash register. I bent down, slowly grabbing the pencil on the notepad and crossing out the old number to add in the new.

Poppy poked her head through the swinging door from the kitchen. “What’s going on out here?”

“I’m leaving,” Randall barked, shuffling closer toward the door. “I don’t need to deal with this harassment every day.”

“Oh, okay. Bye.” She smiled at Jimmy. “I was just experimenting with the chocolate mousse. I made a raspberry compote to spoon on top. Want to try one?”

Randall’s body stilled, his ears perking up. He didn’t just have a sweet tooth. Every bone in his body was addicted to sugar. Mention chocolate and the man practically vibrated.

“I’ll have one,” I told Poppy. “If there’s any extra.”

“I just made a small batch. Only four jars until I know that people like the recipe.”

“What are you waiting for?” Randall spun back around, his sight set on his stool. “Get those jars.”

Poppy disappeared into the kitchen, I went to get four spoons, and Jimmy polished off his lunch while we waited for the mousse. Randall was on his stool, today’s bickering forgotten as quickly as it had started.

Four chocolate mousses later, we all agreed that Poppy’s raspberry concoction would be a hit.

“I think I’ll go whip up some more before I forget what I did. Then we can freeze it and have it for the anniversary celebration next week.”

“Want some company in the kitchen?”

“Sure. Dora just clocked in so she can take over out here.”

We left Randall and Jimmy at their stools and went into the back. Dora was at the sink, washing her hands to begin her shift. I said hello, then chatted with her about her classes before she left Poppy and me alone in the kitchen.

“Any more letters?” Poppy asked, measuring sugar into a bowl.

“Nope. Nothing.” I hadn’t told her much about the letter Finn had written for Jamie’s funeral. I’d simply left it that I’d received another letter and it had made Finn and I talk about some things.

“And you still have no idea who’s sending them?”

“It’s not you.”

“It’s not me,” she promised.

“It’s not your parents. Do you think it could be Cole?”

She shook her head. “I asked him about it when you guys first asked me. He was just as confused as I was.”

“Damn. Then I’m at a loss.”

“What about Kali?”

I laughed. “Finn thought it could be her too. But I don’t know. The handwriting on the envelope isn’t hers. It looks too adult.”

“And you’re sure it isn’t Finn?”