“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Georgina held up two dresses, but before Molly could answer, she said, “Or should I go with jeans? You can’t go wrong with jeans. Unless it’s a formal occasion.” She laid the dresses on the bed. “With jeans, I have to find a top. With dresses, I don’t.”
“The red,” Molly said, pointing to the dress on the left.
“You think?”
“You wore it last week. You looked great. It’s casual and you won’t have to find the right top.”
“Yeah,” Georgina said as she tapped a forefinger on her bottom lip and studied the two knit dresses. “I agree.”
And Molly couldn’t remember the last time her sister had put this much thought into what she was going to wear. Or the last time that she, herself, had spent so much time brooding over a guy who wasn’t Blake. But while Finn wasn’t Blake, he was reacting like him. The fact that he wasn’t the one in control bothered him—he’d come right out and admitted it, so it wasn’t as if Molly was reading things into the situation.
She was so damned tired of macho men.
“I like this guy,” Georgina said, somehow guessing the direction of Molly’s thoughts. Maybe the bemused frown had tipped her off.
“You don’t know this guy.”
“Well...sometimes you just feel that something.” She hung the dresses back in the tiny closet she’d finally made peace with and closed the door.
“Have you felt that something before?”
“Nope. First time.”
Georgina had dated a lot but had never gotten all that serious about any one guy. That was where Molly had made her mistake. She hadn’t been with that many guys before getting together with Blake. After they’d hooked up, she’d been overwhelmed by her good fortune in landing him. He was intelligent, charismatic, sexy. Being with him had helped her take charge of other areas of her life, and then finding out she hadn’t been enough had broken that confidence into about a zillion little pieces. If she’d made such a mistake with him, then maybe she was making mistakes in other areas? Maybe she had reason to be insecure?
Thank goodness for anger. If Molly hadn’t been so angry about being cheated on, she might have messed up. Taken him back. Given him a second chance, a third, a fourth. She had no idea how many second chances Blake’s mother had given his father, but she wasn’t about to play that game. Blake had shattered her world, so she set about building a new one, drawing on strength she hadn’t realized she had.
And she never wanted to do that again, so she’d made a few strict life rules to make certain she never had to do that again. Number one rule—stay in control. Number two—don’t be taken in by charm, good looks, sex appeal. There would be no more Blakes in her life. The men she dated would have substance...and small egos. They’d be the kind of men who were comfortable owning up to mistakes, who didn’t see themselves as near perfect. Men who could compromise without feeling as if they were endangering their manhood.
Molly ended up calling upon both rules when Finn strolled into her office late Monday afternoon, carrying a printout of the writing exercises she’d asked him to complete. He set them on her desk, then stepped back and shoved his hands into his back pockets, as if he had no idea what to do with them. He sucked in his cheeks momentarily, accentuating the amazing hollows there. The guy had bones. Bones and an ego...and from the looks of things, his ego might be the slightest bit bruised from yet another reality check. Molly was not beyond taking advantage, because she knew from her experiences with Blake that bruised egos healed and became stronger.
“Did you have any major issues?” she asked.
“Define major.”
“Major as in something that would make you react defensively to a simple question.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Actually, there was nothing major. It just took a lot of time.”
“Did you learn something?”
“I did.”
Molly waited, just in case he was going to expand on his answer, and found herself wishing that he hadn’t worn a simple gray T-shirt. Would it have killed him to put on a regular shirt over it, so that she didn’t have to be distracted by...him?
She raised her eyebrows in a coolly polite expression. “Anything you want to go over?”
“It was pretty straightforward.” He shifted his weight, folding his arms over his chest. “Anything you want to tutor me on?”
Had he purposely made the question sound sexual? Or was that simply where her brain was whenever he was around?
“Not if you feel like you understood these exercises.”
“Like I said. I did.” His lips curved into a faint smile as if he realized that she might be repeating herself because, regardless of all the pep talks she gave herself, he still rattled her on some level.
“It must be close to closing time. Would you like to get a coffee?”
A jolt went through her at the unexpected offer. She automatically shook her head as she quickly sifted through possible motives. “I think it’s best to keep things between us as they are now.”
“Which is...?”
“We’re friendly acquaintances. Teacher, student.”
“It’s coffee, Molly. Something that friendly acquaintances or even teachers and students do.”
“Thank you, but no.”
* * *
FINN HAD TO SAY that this was the first time a woman had ever refused a simple coffee with him. He’d been turned down for date-dates. He knew the sting of rejection. But coffee date rejection shouldn’t sting. It was coffee, for Pete’s sake. The kind of safe, innocuous date that Mike was going on with his mystery woman, and the kind that Chase was going on with Molly’s sister. Coffee was safe. The kind of thing you did with a friend or someone you wanted to know better.
Why was she so defensive with him? It wasn’t all because of the past and it wasn’t entirely because she still found him attractive on some level. He was certain on those points—something else was causing her knee-jerk, self-protective reactions. And if that was the case, he needed to get a grip and to stop seeing this attitude of hers as a challenge or an insult.
But still, was wanting to sit down to a cup of coffee, to talk about neutral subjects in a neutral locale, so bad?
Apparently so, judging from the way she’d shut him down.
He drove back to the store where Mike was babysitting the kitten. When Finn walked through the door, Lola put a finger to her lips, and the customer she was helping smiled in the direction of the office. Finn crossed to the office door and looked in. Mike was sound asleep in his reclining chair, the tiny kitten nestled in his lap.
“They both conked out about a half hour ago.”
“Late-night feedings,” Finn said. Mike had insisted on taking the kitten every other night to feed him every two hours, starting last night. Tonight was Finn’s night. Lola came to stand beside him, beaming in at the sleeping pair.
“Little Buddy has put on weight already. We weighed him on the nail scale.”
Finn smiled, then pulled the office door partway closed. The store closed in an hour, so he’d let the two of them sleep, then feed Buddy and take him home.
“How’s school?” Lola asked as she moved back behind the counter. Finn had decided to let the world know he was taking classes once he committed himself to finishing the English course. Mike had been surprised, but also a little pleased when Finn had explained he needed to expand his horizons and try new things.
“Harder than I remembered.”
“The brain is like a muscle. You have to keep it exercised.”
“Oh, I’m exercising it, all right.”
Lola leaned her elbows on the counter. “What is it you want to do? Or are you just taking the classes for fun?”
Fun. Right. She seemed genuinely interested, so Finn confessed, “I want to get some kind of a degree, but I’ve forgotten a lot of stuff since high school.” Along with what he hadn’t bothered to learn.
“And it worries you.”
“It makes me wonder about my future.”
Lola narrowed her dark eyes at him, making him feel a bit like a kid again. “I know about being worried about the future. Before I got this job...everything in my life was a worry. No money means no way of knowing how you’ll deal with tomorrow. But you have a good job here. A future. So, no matter what, you have a safety net.”
“Yes.” He wasn’t going to tell her that sometimes he felt as if his brain was dying inside his safety net. “I’d better go roust Chase. He’s probably sleeping on the grain bags.”
“He doesn’t do that!” Lola narrowed her eyes. “Does he?”
Finn just smiled and headed for the side exit.
* * *
THERE WERE SOUNDS coming from the art room again, wall thumping and chair dragging, so Molly stopped pretending she could concentrate and headed next door.
“Hey,” Allie called from the other side of the room where she was hanging posters on the wall. “Would you mind lending a hand? This thing keeps popping the staple and rolling up before I can get the next staple in.”
“You bet.” Molly grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the wall and then took hold of a corner of the laminated poster. Allie got up on her chair and thwacked the opposite corner with the stapler a couple times, then handed it off to Molly, who did the same.
“Now...if you’d just keep your hand on your corner while I unroll this...” Allie carefully unfurled the laminated poster and fastened the bottom to the corkboard. “So help me, this thing had better not jump off the wall.” She slowly removed her hand and Molly did the same. The poster stayed in place.
“You would think a college would have thumbtacks,” Allie said. “I’d kind of banked on them. Three staplers. No thumbtacks.”
“Maybe so they don’t end up on the teacher’s chair?”
Allie laughed. “That’s probably it.”
She stood back, hands on hips, regarding the poster. “It’s not quite straight, but I’m going to call it good.”
“I would.”
Allie glanced over at the clock. “I’m an hour early. Still kind of excited to be teaching something I like.”
“What did you teach before?”
“I student-taught high school art, but my first actual job was working in the elementary school library and, well, let’s just say I wasn’t a natural there. It was kind of a free-for-all a lot of the time.” Allie wrinkled her nose. “I’m much better with adults.”
“Me, too.” Molly hadn’t taught elementary, but she was comfortable teaching adults. Most adults. Not Finn. She wanted to teach him but wasn’t comfortable doing it.
“I didn’t realize that I’d gone to school with your sister the first time we met.”
“Which one?”
“Jolie.”
“She’ll be back in the area pretty soon. She’s moving onto the ranch.”
“We didn’t really know each other that well,” Molly was quick to explain. “I spent most of my time at school with my nose in a book.”
“Me, too,” Allie said wryly.
Somehow Molly didn’t think it was in the same way that she’d buried herself in her studies, or for the same reasons. Allie did not appear to be one bit shy or awkward.
“No. Really,” Allie said, somehow reading her thoughts. “My sisters were totally outgoing. Well, Mel, the closest one to me in age, was very serious, but she was also afraid of nothing.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I was a total geek, focused on my studies. Then I married too young, screwed up my life because I didn’t know any better.”
“I did something very similar without getting married,” Molly admitted. “Which is why I’m here in the Eagle Valley. New life.” She smiled a little. “I guess I’m better off because of all the things that happened, but it kind of sucked at the time.”
Allie considered her for a long moment. “Let’s go have a drink sometime. I think we have a lot in common.”
Molly smiled at her. “I’d like that. A lot.”
* * *
FINN LEANED BACK from his computer and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t spent this much time staring at a monitor in forever. How did kids spend hours on video games? The website Molly had given him had nothing to do with verbs—it was about organizing writing. Truly, Finn hadn’t had a clue about organization. He knew what a paragraph was—or rather what one looked like—but hadn’t known much about their structure.
A squeak from the box at his feet had him pushing back his chair and scooping up Buddy with one hand. He held the kitten to his chest and reread the paragraph he wrote. Topic sentence. The three sentences that followed all had something to do with the topic, which was the care of orphan kittens.
He kind of wished now that he hadn’t thrown away his first Molly paper, because he already had an inkling of what he might have done wrong. He’d written off the top of his head, and his mind did tend to jump around. Who knew about organization?
Buddy started climbing his shirt toward his neck, a sure sign that he was hungry.
“All right, all right.”
The little guy’s eyes were all the way open now and when Finn detached him, Buddy stared at him with his serious baby cat expression. “What shall we have tonight?” Finn asked. “Does milk sound all right?”
He tucked the kitten onto the shoulder of his hoodie, his fingers wrapped loosely around him, then headed into the kitchen where he made the formula with his free hand and filled the bottle. Then he settled into his chair for a feeding. There was something kind of soothing about feeding the kitten, rubbing his belly afterward to make him go, cleaning him up. He’d never thought much about fatherhood before, but he felt like a dad. Hell, he was a dad. A cat dad.
And Mike was a cat dad, too. Only this was Mike’s second kid. Marcel, the big orange cat who haunted the warehouse, had also been a foundling—a few weeks older than Buddy when he’d been found hiding under a pallet, so he hadn’t required a bottle.
Once Buddy was fed and changed, so to speak, Finn settled him in his warmed box and headed out the side door of his house to the detached garage. The rain had finally stopped and the forecast was bright and clear for the next several days, but the path to the shop was so muddy that he sidestepped it and walked on the grass. He’d left the hood of the truck up in order to discourage mice and other creatures from building nests on the engine block. When Buddy got older, maybe he could take care of the rodent problem. Finn smiled a little. Right now Buddy was barely larger than a rodent.
He walked over to the bench, where he’d started cutting sheet metal to fabricate a gas tank to replace the rusted-out one on the Ford. He liked working by hand, loved the feeling of losing himself in the process as he made a tank or fender or whatever else had caught his fancy. His dad had been something of a legend before the arthritis got so bad that he had to quit. But he could still play golf.
Finn smiled a little as he put on his pop’s old leather apron and then cleaned the glass on the welding hood. He fired up the welder and went to work on the tank, then, when he was done, he attached a couple more bolts and a few odd shapes of scrap sheet metal to Frankie. The freeform monster sculpture was coming along nicely. If he didn’t weigh a zillion tons, he’d put him on the lawn for Halloween.
As he cleaned up his tools, cleared his bench, he thought again of his dad, who’d put in a lot of long hours with Mike at the feed store and had expected Finn to do the same. He’d probably still be there if he hadn’t been forced into retirement and had his mother not insisted that he move south, out of the cold.
He glanced at the old starburst clock his mom had thrown out and his father had rescued. Too late to call now, but he’d call when he got the chance, tell his dad about his latest projects.
* * *
GEORGINA’S COFFEE DATE got postponed to Friday, and somehow turned into early dinner. Molly hadn’t caught all the particulars, but Georgina seemed pleased by the turn of events. So on Friday evening, while Georgina dressed for her date in the red knit dress and cute low cowboy boots, Molly climbed into her favorite flannel pants and oversize T-shirt and settled onto the sofa with a pile of grading.
Georgina walked through the living room, her head bent to one side as she put on a dangly earring. She fixed the backing, then shook her head when she saw Molly’s nesting spot. “Why you love your profession is beyond me.”
Molly made a face at her and focused back on the paper she was reading. She really didn’t have to grade at home, but she liked catching up at the end of the week, thereby having a clean slate on Monday as well as having Saturday and Sunday free. Every now and then the plan worked and she actually did have those days free, but most of the time she chose to work even when her grading was done. There was always prep and planning to do. Disappearing into her work had helped save her sanity during the weeks and months following her discovery of Blake’s infidelity, and working all the time had become a habit. Not necessarily a bad one, either.
She’d just finished reading the last paper and had slipped it into the appropriate folder when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but since Georgina was out and about and may have had phone issues, she answered. At the sound of the deeply masculine hello, she almost hung up again. Except that Blake said quickly, “Don’t hang up, Molly.”
So she didn’t. But she didn’t speak, either.
“Look. I...just wanted to touch base.” And it sounded as if he’d been drinking. Another of his small problems that had grown into a bigger problem during their time together.
“Have you sold the boat? Because I can give you the address where to send the check.” He was never going to sell the boat, even though he pretended he was going to in order to pay her back all of the money he’d borrowed.
“I’m going to another team.”
The curse of the minor leagues. Trades and more trades. Which was why Molly had been glad that he’d been able to stay in Arizona for so long.
“Which one?” She had to ask.
“There are a couple of possibilities. I’ll know in a matter of days.”
“Why are you telling me this, Blake?”
“Because we had the best relationship I ever had.”
“I’m hanging up.” He wanted money. He wanted something. And yes, his relationship with her probably was the best he’d ever had, because she’d been so freaking stupid.
“You’re still my insurance beneficiary.”
“Make your mom your beneficiary. And tell me what you really want before I hang up.”
“Molly... I’ve changed. And there are some things you should know—”
She hung up the phone. Blake wasn’t in love with her. He needed a caretaker. He liked having someone managing his life. They’d broken up over a year ago, and he still couldn’t believe that she wasn’t going to take him back.
Molly would have turned off the phone, except that she never shut off communications when her sister was out, so instead she blocked Blake’s new number and then went into the kitchen for diet cola and whatever else she could find there.
Not a big deal. Not a big deal.
She grabbed a bag of chips she had stashed away for emergency situations and after opening the fridge, nixed the Diet Coke and pulled out the chardonnay. Why not?
Molly was halfway through a movie she couldn’t concentrate on when Georgina let herself into the house, humming under her breath as she hung her car keys on the pegboard next to the door. A few seconds later she came into the living room, pulling off her earrings.
“How was your date?” Molly asked just a little too brightly. She’d have to watch her tone or she’d be on the wrong end of an interrogation.
Her sister pretended to consider the question for all of a split second before breaking into a wide smile. “It was great.”
She dropped her purse on the easy chair and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back a few minutes later with a glass of water. She sat on the opposite side of the sofa from Molly and eased off her shoes.
“Chips?”
“When one stays home alone on a Friday night, one gets to indulge.”
“When one comes home, one gets to indulge also.” Georgina held out her hand and Molly passed her the half-empty bag.
“I gotta tell you, it’s refreshing to go out with a guy who isn’t all into telling you about himself. I think I got equal time.” Her eyebrows drew together. “No. I probably got sixty or sixty-five percent of the time.”
“Is he shy?”
“That’s probably part of it. But I think he was actually interested in hearing what I had to say.”
“That is refreshing,” Molly said with a half smile, holding her hand out for the chip bag.
“I thought so. We’re going hiking on Saturday. Do you still have your hiking boots?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You were a bit purge-happy after...you know.”
“True. But the hiking boots live on.”
“Can I borrow them?”
“You won’t sweat in them, will you?”
“Nope. I’ll return them in sweat-free condition.”
“In that case, sure.”
Georgina reached out for the bag and Molly handed it back. “Chase has a big brother.”
“Good for Chase,” Molly said.
“Just saying...you know...in case you ever wanted to go to coffee with a guy who listens to you.”
“Blake listened.” He’d had his faults, but not listening wasn’t one of them, which had lulled her into a false sense of security. They’d had some great conversations. Then he betrayed her. And now he wanted her to forget all that. As if.
“I’m not talking about a serious relationship. I’m talking about a casual date with a guy who’s...nice. Like Chase.”
“Let me think on it.”
Georgina gave her a yeah-right look, then got to her feet. “I need more than chips.” She started for the kitchen.
“Not me,” Molly muttered, pulling another handful out of the bag. She and this bag were in it for the long haul.
* * *
SINCE MOLLY HAD blocked Blake’s new number, she had no idea if he’d called again. She’d found that there was a pattern to his calls—when he hit a rough spot, he called, and since he was an aging athlete in a profession that was prone to upsets, he seemed to be hitting more and more rough patches. At least he hadn’t shown up on her doorstep, and hopefully he would end up on the opposite side of the country when he was traded. That happy thought got Molly through her first two classes. She settled at her desk with a cup of coffee during the hour she had off between her two literature classes and typed Blake’s name into a search engine.
Florida. Please, Florida...
Not Florida.
Molly read the lead twice. Blake Cook was no longer playing—he had just signed on as a manager/coach for a Montana team. The Butte Tommyknockers.
Damn it all.
Had this been one of the things he’d tried to tell her Friday night? No doubt.
It doesn’t matter. It isn’t like he’s going to stalk you. Much.
Molly jumped to her feet. She needed to move. She really needed to move. So she did—flat into Finn’s chest as he walked into her office.
“Oh. Sorry.” She felt her cheeks start to flame as she took a stumbling step backward. “I can’t even blame this on not wearing my glasses.” Which had slid to the end of her nose in the impact. She pushed them back into place with her forefinger.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“You look rattled.”
Probably because she was rattled. Rattled by the fact that Blake was once again in her part of the country. Rattled that when Finn had reached out to take her arm to steady her, she’d almost forgotten. Her awareness of this guy was ridiculous and in some ways worse than it’d been back in her teen crush years. It didn’t help matters that he actually looked concerned about her.
“What happened, Molly?”
She shrugged and adjusted her glasses one more time. “You startled me. That’s all. How can I help you?”
He gave her a look that clearly said that she wasn’t fooling him. Old Molly, awkward Molly, tried to take over and start blushing or something, but new Molly was having none of that. She nodded at the papers in Finn’s hand. “English, I assume?”
He gave an unsmiling nod, his gaze still holding hers.
“I tried to work ahead on those sites you gave me. I kind of hit a wall with the online stuff. I’m missing as many as I’m getting right and I need a shove in the right direction. And these are your Monday office hours. Right?”
“Right.” She took his papers and started looking them over. “I’m glad you came by.”
“That bad?”
She looked over the top of her glasses. “No. I mean the last time you were in my office...” Her voice trailed off and she realized that she didn’t want to say anything that would keep him from coming back if he needed help. Personal feelings and prejudices aside, her job was to teach him English.
“When I asked you to coffee and you said no.”
“It wasn’t personal.”
He gave her a Really? look and Molly felt her color start to rise. Go away, old Molly.
“All right,” she conceded. “A little personal.” She heard a tiny squeak as she spoke and frowned at Finn, who shifted uncomfortably. He put his hand in his roomy hoodie pouch, but she would have sworn the pocket moved before he’d stuck his hand inside.
“I...uh...” He looked over his shoulder. “Have a friend with me.” He pulled a tiny gray kitten out of his pocket.
Molly’s eyes went wide. “Where did you get that?”
“Under my porch. Last week. Something happened to the mother, I guess, after she stashed him there. She hasn’t been back.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve left food out. Nothing. Mike and I are sharing custody because it involves feeding him every three hours. It’s my turn to take him and I was on my way home.”
She looked past him to the door, then moved around him to shut it, watching the kitten the entire time. “Let me take a look...” She took the papers he held in his free hand and spread them out on her desk. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here. Or not doing.” She raised her eyes and found herself staring into the hazel depths of his. Too much guy, way too close. And he had a kitten.
“Why don’t you sit down and we can go over the ones you’ve gotten wrong.”
Finn sat and Molly positioned the paper on her desk so they could both see it. But her eyes kept straying to the little bundle of fur he held in one hand.
“May I?” she asked.
Finn smiled and handed the kitten to her. “His name is Buddy.”
“Hello, Buddy.” She held him up to look into his adorable face. “My heart is melting. Right here. Right now. And he’s so soft.” She glanced up to see Finn studying her with an odd look, but ignored it as she focused back on the cuteness incarnate now snuggled into her palm.
Molly settled in her chair, cuddling the kitty against her chest, stroking his tiny back. A moment later he started to vibrate beneath her hand. “He’s purring.”
“He just started a couple days ago.”
“You aren’t carrying him around to get women, are you?”
“Mike suggested that I do just that.”
“Somehow I don’t think you need a kitten to get a woman.”
Had she really just said that out loud? Crap.
“I told Mike the same thing.”
“This is a small room, Finn. If your ego joins us, one of us might have to wait out in the hall.”
“Ha. Ha. Funny.”
“Wasn’t meant to be,” she said with a straight face. Amusement lit his eyes.
The kitten continued to purr as Molly held him with one hand and she explained the sentence structure issues that were tripping him up. When she was done, she felt as if she were once again in control of the situation. That his...hotness...wasn’t getting the better of her. Thank goodness for her teacher self—for new Molly. “I know it’s not easy to come here and ask questions.”
For a moment she thought Finn was going to deny it, but instead he said, “I have to be honest. I don’t know how much of my difficulty is because I might have dyslexia, and how much is because I honestly didn’t give two hoots about English in high school.”
“A little of both, maybe?” Molly stroked the kitten, rubbing behind his small ears and over his back. “Maybe we should set up a tutoring schedule...if you bring the kitten, of course.”
She was only half kidding. Holding the little guy was seriously relaxing. “Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes twice a week. Mondays and Wednesdays. I can answer your questions. We can schedule more time if you need it.”
“And if I don’t bring the kitten?”
“Ten minutes, once a week.”
The corners of his mouth lifted. At least he understood that she was joking. She wondered, from the way he was looking at her, if he also understood how deeply aware she was of him. Not that she couldn’t handle it. She could.
“You drive a hard bargain, Molly.”
His voice seemed to roll over her, making her heart rate quicken. And that was when she remembered their other bargain. The one she hadn’t fully agreed to. The one where he made up for their date. Surely he understood if she didn’t do coffee, she wasn’t going to repeat that date.
Molly stood and carefully handed the kitten back to him over the desk. Finn’s hands were warm and sturdy, gentle as she transferred the little cat to him.
“I’m kidding about the kitten,” she said, sounding a touch too formal.
“I know. Thanks for the help.”
“What about tutoring?”
He smiled a little. “I’ll let you know. I appreciate the offer.”
“Do more than appreciate it. Take advantage.”
He stopped and turned back. “Here’s the deal, Molly...” He stopped for a moment. “Have you ever had trouble doing anything?”
“Like meeting people and feeling comfortable? Like coming out of my shell?” Overcoming paralyzing shyness?
“I think you know what I’m getting at.”
“I...”
“Have always been an excellent student. And I have always been an excellent athlete. Now I’m trying to be a student and guess what? I have roadblocks I didn’t even know existed. Even if you pass me because of guilt or differentiation or whatever, it doesn’t mean I can pass the second English class I need. And then what happens to my degree plans?”
“What degree are you pursuing, Finn?”
He just shook his head. “What I’m trying to say, Molly, is that if you hold my hand through this, what have I actually accomplished?”