The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(55)

“Were you?” Molly’s gaze fell to the bag of pretzels, and then she frowned. “Pretzels before dinner, Emmy?”

“I’m hungry,” Emmy whined. “And I hate stew.”

“I worked hard on this meal.” Molly untied her apron and hung it on its hook.

Emmy raised her shoulders and held them there for a few seconds. “Doesn’t make me like it more.”

“You could still be appreciative.” Molly crossed her arms.

“Sorry.” Emmy didn’t look very sorry, though. She raised her chin, asking, “Can I make a peanut butter sandwich instead?”

She was a pistol, this one.

Molly sighed. “Put those pretzels away. It’s up to your father what you eat for dinner.”

“Is he home?” Emmy asked.

“I think he’s upstairs changing,” Molly replied, at which point Steffi’s insides lit up like a Fourth of July sky.

While Emmy tromped to the pantry to return the pretzel bag to its shelf, Steffi turned away, pretending to be studying something in the new family room while she closed her eyes and willed her jitters into submission.

“Bye!” Emmy called before skipping out of the kitchen.

Once she was out of sight, Molly muttered from one corner of her mouth, “I have a check for you.”

She opened her purse and pulled out a checkbook.

“We should wait until the closing.” Steffi grasped Molly’s hand and squeezed it. “But thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me. Or how much I hope our plans work out for Ryan.”

“I have some idea.” Molly smiled, then tossed her checkbook into her purse.

Steffi looked her dead in the eye. “I swear, no matter what happens, I will pay you back.”

Mick surprised them both with a rare appearance, greeting Steffi with a sharp nod. “Steffi.” He wandered to the counter and lifted the lid off the stew, giving Molly a quick wink. “Smells good, babe.”

“Scoot.” She shooed him away, but not before Steffi noticed the pleased gleam in her eye. “I’ll call you all when it’s time, but you’re interrupting girl talk.”

He raised his hands in surrender and left the kitchen without another word, reminding Steffi of her own dad. Always around, but not really present.

Her father watched football games, made jokes, and paid the bills. But the truth was, they’d never really known each other that well. He hadn’t known why going to Barcelona had been so important to her. Had no clue her favorite kind of dessert was flan, or that she’d always wanted to take a family road trip to Yosemite. Would never understand that she wanted him to look at her just once like she was the apple of his eye. And he’d never know that she’d felt sorry for him almost every day since her mom died.

The same could be said of her and her brothers. Even her closeness with Benny had sprung more from hanging around and doing things together than from any heart-to-hearts.

The Lilac Lane League had been her only exposure to the kind of openness that normal people enjoyed. When thinking about why she’d held back with Ryan, she could only conclude that he was a guy, like her dad and brothers, so she’d related to him in much that same way. For the first time, it occurred to her that he might’ve wanted more from her. If so, could she ever give it to him?

Once Molly was sure Mick couldn’t hear, she said, “I know you’ll pay me back. Now, if only I had the power to settle Ryan’s situation in time to buy the house.”

Molly’s manipulations proved she didn’t share Emmy’s wish for Ryan to reconcile with Val.

“I’ll give him the first option to buy it before I list it.” She patted Molly’s shoulder. “I’d love to see him and Emmy in that house.”

Ryan entered the kitchen to get a beer from the refrigerator as she finished talking. Note to self—avoid private conversations with Molly in the kitchen around dinnertime.

Although the sight of Ryan lifted her spirits, she noticed circles beneath his eyes.

He hesitated, then flashed a tight smile. “Were you two talking about Emmy and me?”

“How was your day?” his mother asked.

“Don’t change the subject.” He glanced from his mom to Steffi. “What house?”

Steffi exchanged a silent message with Molly, then fessed up part of their plan. “Gretta agreed to sell me the Weber cottage to rehab and flip. I was just musing that it’d be awesome if, by the time I’m done, you could buy it.” Steffi watched his expression change, his beer suspended in midair.

“You’re going for it?” His voice pitched upward.

“I am.”

“Good for you.” A wide grin appeared beneath those tired eyes. “It’s nice when dreams come true.”

Hallelujah, she’d finally turned him back toward optimism.

“Or part of a dream, anyway.” Steffi felt a flush rising to her cheeks because Ryan knew what she meant, and from the look on Molly’s face, she did, too.

“Excuse me, you two. I have yet another load of laundry to fold.” Molly rubbed her son’s back and left them alone in the kitchen. Steffi had no doubt the laundry could’ve waited.

She cleared her throat, fumbling for conversation. “I hear there’s another little girl coming with us on Sunday.”