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“Mr. Jack’s going to make colored canvas bunting for the town and cover the main street with them.” Molly flung herself into the hair-chair, then pulled the plate of cake sitting on the counter toward her. “It’s a great idea. He says it’ll help make us look prosperous and happy.”
Momma hadn’t looked up from her pink laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“Just something I’m working on, honey.”
Molly leaned forward. “Is it legal? Give me a look.”
Momma put her hand on the laptop lid. “Never cross a small-town news reporter.”
“A what?” Molly grabbed the laptop and slid it to face her.
The Hopeless Herald edition #2
Society News
Mrs. Fairmont from Surrender said Elvis Presley once thought about visiting.
~
“Jane Fonda tried to buy my house.” Mrs. Walnut of Reckless.
~
George Clooney was spotted passing the valley turnoff in 2002. He slowed his car and glanced at the Calamity signpost. Sadly, he then met a lot of beautiful women and hasn’t been seen since.
“Momma, you’re making this up.”
“Not me, honey. I’m just the reporter. These stories came from the residents.”
“Well, they’re making them up,” Molly muttered. “What is this, anyway?” She returned the laptop to her mother.
“I can’t start a newspaper without advance media and promotional PR so I’ve started with a newsletter—and it’s going down a treat! Edition one broke all my expectations.”
“So it’s online?”
“Available everywhere. Including worldwide. I think I might need a blog. www.Momma’sHopelessBlog.com. What do you think?”
“You’ll stun the world.” At least it would keep Momma out of trouble.
Molly returned to the cake, then frowned at it. “Was this Saul’s? How come he didn’t eat it?”
“Said he was watching his physique. Said he puts on weight just by looking at a piece of cake.”
That didn’t sound right. He ate enough for two men and four women. He’d devoured the cake she’d taken home the other day. He ate half of it in one sitting.
“It’s stress eating,” Momma said. “He’s stressed.”
“About what?” Molly peered at her mother who was now bent over her little pink laptop again. “What did you and Saul talk about?”
“That man is to die for.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I think he’s a little desperate.”
Desperate? Maybe for more cake—so why didn’t he eat this plateful? “What did he say to make you think that?”
“He needs to feel needed. He has a hatful of emotions inside him and no one to share them with.”
“He told you that?”
“He likes you. He thinks you’ve got a cute little ass.”
Molly shifted in the hair-chair. “He said that?”
“Something like that.”
Molly pulled the laptop out of Momma’s hands and slammed the lid closed. “What are you up to?” she demanded. “What did you tell Saul about me? That’s what you’ve done, isn’t it? How much did you tell him?”
Momma held up both hands. “I may have mentioned the greed rumor and I may have mentioned you were all on your lonesome after the motel magnate dumped you.”
“He cheated on me. I dumped him!” Molly said, standing as outrage electrified the tip of every nerve in her body. “Why did you tell Saul all this?”
“He forced me to, honey. He said he’d guessed you’d been hurt.”
“Rubbish. You told him, all on your lonesome. What have else have you done?”
Winnie rushed in from the takeout, wringing her hands. “Have you told her? Oh, Molly. Molly...”
Momma stood. “I was about to tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
“Honey. Take a deep breath.”
Molly inhaled and held her breath.
“The developers are saying your intentions for renovating the hacienda are based on greed and...”
“Sexual appetite,” Winnie said.
Molly’s jaw dropped. “That’s ridiculous! Where did they get this stupid notion?”
Momma shrugged, eyes wide. Too wide.
“What have you done?” Molly asked.
“Oh, typical. I get the blame.”
“What. Have. You. Done. Momma?”
Momma took a breath. “I may have taken another few photos out of the shared folder, and I may have put one or two of those naked-chest images of your gorgeous builder in the Hopeless Herald newsletter number one—”
Molly fell back a step. “No!”
“And the developers may have seen them after I sent them a copy of the newsletter.”
“No!”
“Yes,” Winnie said, nodding. “She sent it to Bob Smith.”
“Bob Smith? Does he even exist?”
“Well he’s got an email address. Davie thinks he might be the ideas man,” Momma supplied.
“Bob Smith?” Molly said again, astounded. They’d never met him and there was no corporate photo of him up on Donaldson’s website. “The ideas man? I thought D’Pee was in charge.”
“Him and Slick might be the underdogs,” Winnie said.
“I hate this Bob Smith!” Molly exclaimed. “He’s ruined my life. And it’s all your fault, Momma.”
“I didn’t expect the Herald to go viral so quickly,” Momma said, spreading her hands, as though exasperated with her daughter’s unwillingness to understand.
“Why did you send a newsletter to the developers in the first place?”
“To show them how well we’re doing without them,” Winnie said. “And you look so good together, you and your builder. It’s a shame you’re not right for him.”
“Me and him together?” Molly said. “There aren’t any photos of me and him together.”
“Your momma did the photo dupe thing.”
“Photoshop,” Momma corrected.
“What?” Molly gasped. “Show me!”
“Take another breath, honey. I’m going to fix this.”
Molly grabbed the laptop, hit the folder titled Hopeless Herald and opened newsletter first edition.
Saul was smiling, about to use his T-shirt to wipe his brow. All his glorious abdominal muscles were on show in high resolution on page one. The sky was perfect blue above him, the light around the courtyard just idyllic, and right beside him, with a smile and a kind of wonder in her eyes, was Molly, looking directly at his perfect abs as she reached for them.
“I do not believe you have done this!” She recognized the photo of herself.
Momma had taken it four weeks ago when Molly made the decision to start the business. She’d been so happy with herself as she reached out to straighten the iron centerpiece in the fountain.
“Now don’t get your ponytail in a knot, baby. This is all very innocent looking.”
“Except that you sent the developers your newsletter—and now I’m a sexual freak!”
“Oh, but look at him, Molly. What woman under ninety would blame you? I bet I’ll get a heap more clients next week. I’m already fully booked until Wednesday. Any chance you can be extra sweet and get Saul into town in the next few days, and maybe ask him to take his shirt off?”
“No!”
Molly spun away. What was she going to do now? “I’m supposed to be keeping him hidden, remember? You told me to keep him out of sight because of the greed rumors, and not involve him in our town problems.”
“You have to change your plan but not the goal, Molly.”
Goal? She no longer had a goal except to murder her mother. “Does he know about this?” she asked, pointing at the laptop. “Does he know about my appetite?”
“I’m affronted, baby. I did not tell him about your sex problem.”
Molly put her face in her hands. She’d come home to forget about being so naïve over the last two years while pandering to the thing, but she’d also seen an opportunity to create her own world. That was why she’d moved into the hacienda. As soon as she’d seen it, after a long six year absence, she’d known it was her focus. Her true place in the world. Now the photo Momma had used made it look like she was looking at Saul Solomon’s naked torso in a sexually predatory manner. When it had just been the fountain!
“This is all the fault of the great-grandfathers!” she pronounced, dropping her hands.
“Don’t go there, baby.”
The hacienda was her home now. She was going to turn it into the most spectacular photography studio Texas had ever seen. She was. She would. Just watch her. If she was smart enough, she might end the curse she didn’t believe in before it started. “And I am smart, goddamn it.”
“You get that from me.”
“And I’ll get myself out of this mess.”
“I’ll get you out of this mess,” Momma said emphatically. “Don’t worry your cute little—”
“You’re the one who got me into this mess.” Now there was going to be Momma’s Hopeless dot com to spread the word about crazy Molly Mackillop and her appetites. Her business didn’t stand a chance.
“He won’t come back,” she said as her chest contracted.
“Yes, he will.”
“I wouldn’t if I were him.” She was so mad, she wanted to march up to eternity and punch the great-grandfathers on their noses.
Sexual appetite? That was further from the truth than greed. How could a woman who hadn’t had much sex in the first place have an appetite?
“What are the developers saying I’m going to do?” she asked. “Drag male clients to the hacienda, lock them in, and have my lurid way with them?”
How was she going to keep this from Saul? “This is horrible.” Just the thought of Saul’s narrowed, piercing blue eyes throwing contempt at her instead of humor or a flare of desire, made her stomach flip in a sickly swirl. He wouldn’t come back, and she’d never be able to give him the finger again. She liked showing him her middle finger because it made him smile. He had such a paradise-filled smile, which made her feel like she’d swallowed heaven.
Not that she should worry about any of this. She wasn’t right for him. Alice had told her from the start.
“Nothing bad is going to come of this,” Momma said.
It was probably too late for that pronouncement, and Molly was concerned for Saul and his reputation, not only her own.
“What am I going to do?” she asked, agitated by thoughts of Saul’s response if he discovered this news.
“Baby, leave it to me. I’m going to get the developers off the scent of your sexual appetite and—”
“I don’t have a sexual appetite.” She hadn’t been given the chance. “Do the townspeople know about the newsletter and my... my... my—”
“It’s online,” Momma said. “I can’t afford to print it yet. They know nothing about your abnormal appetites.”
Mr. Jack and Mrs. Wynkoop and the others in Hopeless didn’t have internet. They didn’t need computers and laptops. Although Molly had been going to change all that and make two computers available in town for everybody’s use. She wouldn’t be doing that just yet... Because, you know—I have a sexual appetite.
“Does Saul know?” she asked again, not quite able to believe her mother.
“I didn’t tell him. Promise.”
Thank God.
“So what are we going to do?” It was pointless berating her mother for all this.
She could see how innocent it looked to everybody except the developers, who’d put a terrible spin on Molly’s innocence due to Momma’s photo dupe. But they had to do something quickly, before Saul found out.
“And by the way, I’m revoking your access to my shared photograph folder.”
“I’ve had hundreds of email subscribers to the newsletter,” Momma said, with sudden excitement. “So I’m going to start the blog and put things right. Like I said, I’ve had dozens of hair appointments too. They’ll all want to buy cake when they’re here, and check out Davie’s artwork. So your business is already starting to help other businesses before it even gets off the ground.” Momma spread her hands in a ta-da manner, and Molly slapped a hand to her forehead.
“The calls are still coming in,” Winnie said, with a smile Molly tried to return, but failed.
“So you see, honey, all this is going to have a happy ending.”
“I just can’t picture it yet.”
“We’re looking prosperous already,” Winnie said. “And we’re going to hold a town open day. Mr. Jack is making the bunting, and Mrs. Wynkoop is going to sell her preserved apples.”
Molly could see the crowds now, lining up to get into town.
“We’re holding a valley meeting tomorrow night,” Momma said. “You’re to come. Bring Saul.”
“No. He can stay home.”
“He’ll have to come,” Winnie said. “So the valley people get to know him for the good sort he is, and not the bedroom devil they might start to picture him as.”
Bedroom devil? Could this get any worse? “Alright. Valley meeting, here in Hopeless, tomorrow night. I’ll do my best to bring Saul.”
“That’s the spirit, honey. Now off you go. Get cycling and make something really tasty for dinner for you and the bedroom devil—”
“Stop calling him that.” It gave Molly too many pictures of the sexual variety than she could cope with. If any man could give a woman an appetite, it was Saul.
“Make something from scratch,” Momma said. “Show him your cooking skills. Winnie, grab those groceries, would you, honey?”
Winnie scurried out of the salon.
Momma took Molly in her arms for a hug. “Hush now, baby. It’s going to be all right.”
Molly sniffed. “Thanks for helping.” She refrained from saying Even though you started it with your damned Hopeless Herald.
“Here,” Winnie said, thrusting a small backpack into Molly’s hands. “Fresh vegetables, meat, and your mail. I put the mail in the front pocket.”
“Thanks, Winnie.” Molly hugged her. “Okay, off I go.” She smiled weakly at her mother and her foster aunt.
She’d let Momma handle the newsletter and the blog, because Momma wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt anyone, especially her only daughter. Molly would go home, clean the hacienda kitchen, and cook a meal from scratch, and when Saul came home—if he returned—she’d be sweet as honeysuckle and try to persuade him to drive with her into town tomorrow night for the meeting, so the valley people could see for themselves how good and generous, and kindhearted he was, and how rational, calm, and certain Molly Mackillop could be when she was in a slight pickle.
