Page 45 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
“About what?” Arianna asked, suddenly wary.
“About friendship.”
Arianna knew what was coming next and her gut clenched. “Who’ve you been talking to?”
“Our friend,” said Molly.
“She’s not my friend. Not anymore.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
Oh, nice. Sunny had gotten to Molly and prejudiced her. “What did she say to you?” Arianna demanded.
“What she was trying to say to you. That girl didn’t break up a home.”
“Oh, yes, she did. She said—”
“That she met Travis when he was still married. I know. He was separated, waiting for his divorce decree. She refused to go out with him until he had it.”
“She didn’t say that to me,” Arianna said defensively.
“You didn’t give her a chance.”
Arianna stared at the plate of wings in front of her. She’d lost her appetite. In fact she felt sick.
“You know, it’s easy to jump to conclusions about people,” Molly said, softening her voice. “But in the end, you lose out on a lot. Ask me how I know this.”
“Personal experience?” guessed Arianna.
“Yeah, with my mom. She so didn’t approve of the man I chose. Prejudiced woman that she was, she judged him by the neighborhood he came from. In the end, she made me choose between her and him. She was wrong so I chose him. I don’t for a minute regret my choice, but my mother made it a bad deal for everyone and in the end we all lost out.”
“I never knew,” Arianna said.
“I never shared,” Molly replied. “It was all ancient history by the time I met you guys. And Booker was long dead.”
“He died?” Molly had never talked about Ava’s father. Arianna had always assumed she was divorced.
“When Ava was a toddler. He was something else—smart and good-looking, with a smile that could melt me faster than butter on the griddle. But he was stubborn. He loved roaring around on that stupid motorcycle of his. Who rides a bike in LA? I begged him to get rid of it. He didn’t. He thought he was invincible. A part of me died right along with him.”
“Did you ever patch things up with your mom?” Arianna asked. “I mean, she had a granddaughter.”
Molly shook her head. “No. She wanted nothing to do with a biracial grandchild. She missed out.”
“Gosh, that’s so awful. I’m sorry.”
Molly shrugged, took a drink of her iced tea. “I made the right choice. Booker was a good man, a hard worker who loved his family, and he rocked my little world, for sure. Anyway, that’s enough about me. What about you? What are you going to do?”
Arianna took a deep breath. “Call Sunny and hope she hasn’t blocked me.”
“In person is always better,” Molly said, and nodded to the door where Sunny was walking in. She got halfway to the table, saw Arianna and turned to head back out.
Arianna pushed away from the table and hurried after her. Sunny was on the sidewalk and almost to her car when Arianna caught up with her.
“Wait,” she said. “Don’t leave. Please.”
Sunny stopped and glared at her.
She deserved that glare. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I jumped to conclusions.”
