Read Online How to Knit a Heart Back Home by Rachael Herron - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachael Herron
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itself?”
Molly didn’t deny it. “What’s better than make-up sex? It’s like a mental challenge. Better for your brain than crosswords.”
“I’m glad about Theo, if it’s what you want, and I’m sorry about Barry,” said Lucy. “You want me to put flaming dog poop on his porch?”
Molly brightened. “Would you?”
That was the thing about Molly. She might be serious. Lucy shook her head and said, “No, not really. I don’t want to touch dog shit, let alone light it on fire, which I’m sure is some kind of arson. I’ll snub him if I see him in the grocery store, though.”
“Damn.” Molly looked disappointed. “I’ve done it. I don’t think it’s a crime. But okay. Snubbing is good. But while Jonas is gone, let’s go back to you. Owen Bancroft? Would you really rent to him? Is he as cute as he looked the other night while he was dragging that woman out of the car?”
“Yeah, if you like that rugged McDreamy look, sure.” Lucy shrugged.
“Who doesn’t? Three words: Hit that shit.”
“Ew! No.” Lucy’s answer was too quick and she tried to cover it up. “You know. Not really my type.”
“What kind of book is he?” Molly knew how Lucy categorized people.
Lucy thought before carefully choosing her words. “I think he’s a thriller. Like a paperback espionage novel. Suspenseful. Guns and forged passports and spies.”
“Hot,” said Molly. “But you’re a really bad liar. That’s not what book you think he is.”
“I hate you sometimes.”
Molly held up a finger. “One quick sec.” She looked to see that Jonas was busy clearing a booth before scuttling around the back of the bar. She shot a finger of Baileys into her coffee and raised the bottle toward Lucy’s cup.
“No, thanks. I’m on call, remember?” Lucy pulled the pager out of her pocket and waggled it at Molly.
“Oh, yeah.” Seated next to her again, Molly said with a satisfied air, “Now. Really. What book?”
Lucy sighed and said in a whisper, “ Wuthering Heights .”
Molly laughed so hard she almost came off her bar stool.
“It’s not that funny.”
“Oh, God!” Molly tried to gasp for air. “Yes, it is. Heathcliff. To your—your Cathy . . .”
Lucy sat. She waited.
“You done yet?”
Molly giggled. “I think so. I’m sorry. It’s just funny. Thinking of you on the moors . . .” She wiped her eyes with a cocktail napkin.
“Stop! Seriously.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t read it with me last year for book club? Too”— Molly choked—“difficult?”
Lucy spun on the barstool to face her, trailing the yarn behind her. “Shhh! Look, it’s not funny, and I’m well aware that it’s moronic, but that was a hard time for me.”
“It was high school. I was in New York, not out here on the Wild West Coast, but it was hard for all of us.”
Molly had no idea. Looking at the stitches on her needles as if they held the answer, Lucy said, “I was his math tutor. I was the bookish one. The smart one. And then one night . . . I thought he really saw me, that someone finally had seen me. And the best part was that the someone who had seen me was him. ” With each word, she jerked a stitch. They’d be tighter than the rest on her next row.
Molly leaned over and put her head briefly on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You don’t talk about him, and I’m just trying to figure out what happened in high school to my best friend. Will you forgive my teasing and tell me?”
Lucy groaned and gave up. “Long story made blessedly short. It was the grad night party of his senior year. I was a junior. I had a nice boyfriend, Tim Snopes, who was on the football team: running back. We held hands and necked on Friday nights, but he had strep throat and couldn’t take me to the party. Owen had twenty-two girlfriends and he did more than neck.”
Molly snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I could list the girls for you. In either alphabetical or chronological order.”
With a whirling hand
Molly didn’t deny it. “What’s better than make-up sex? It’s like a mental challenge. Better for your brain than crosswords.”
“I’m glad about Theo, if it’s what you want, and I’m sorry about Barry,” said Lucy. “You want me to put flaming dog poop on his porch?”
Molly brightened. “Would you?”
That was the thing about Molly. She might be serious. Lucy shook her head and said, “No, not really. I don’t want to touch dog shit, let alone light it on fire, which I’m sure is some kind of arson. I’ll snub him if I see him in the grocery store, though.”
“Damn.” Molly looked disappointed. “I’ve done it. I don’t think it’s a crime. But okay. Snubbing is good. But while Jonas is gone, let’s go back to you. Owen Bancroft? Would you really rent to him? Is he as cute as he looked the other night while he was dragging that woman out of the car?”
“Yeah, if you like that rugged McDreamy look, sure.” Lucy shrugged.
“Who doesn’t? Three words: Hit that shit.”
“Ew! No.” Lucy’s answer was too quick and she tried to cover it up. “You know. Not really my type.”
“What kind of book is he?” Molly knew how Lucy categorized people.
Lucy thought before carefully choosing her words. “I think he’s a thriller. Like a paperback espionage novel. Suspenseful. Guns and forged passports and spies.”
“Hot,” said Molly. “But you’re a really bad liar. That’s not what book you think he is.”
“I hate you sometimes.”
Molly held up a finger. “One quick sec.” She looked to see that Jonas was busy clearing a booth before scuttling around the back of the bar. She shot a finger of Baileys into her coffee and raised the bottle toward Lucy’s cup.
“No, thanks. I’m on call, remember?” Lucy pulled the pager out of her pocket and waggled it at Molly.
“Oh, yeah.” Seated next to her again, Molly said with a satisfied air, “Now. Really. What book?”
Lucy sighed and said in a whisper, “ Wuthering Heights .”
Molly laughed so hard she almost came off her bar stool.
“It’s not that funny.”
“Oh, God!” Molly tried to gasp for air. “Yes, it is. Heathcliff. To your—your Cathy . . .”
Lucy sat. She waited.
“You done yet?”
Molly giggled. “I think so. I’m sorry. It’s just funny. Thinking of you on the moors . . .” She wiped her eyes with a cocktail napkin.
“Stop! Seriously.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t read it with me last year for book club? Too”— Molly choked—“difficult?”
Lucy spun on the barstool to face her, trailing the yarn behind her. “Shhh! Look, it’s not funny, and I’m well aware that it’s moronic, but that was a hard time for me.”
“It was high school. I was in New York, not out here on the Wild West Coast, but it was hard for all of us.”
Molly had no idea. Looking at the stitches on her needles as if they held the answer, Lucy said, “I was his math tutor. I was the bookish one. The smart one. And then one night . . . I thought he really saw me, that someone finally had seen me. And the best part was that the someone who had seen me was him. ” With each word, she jerked a stitch. They’d be tighter than the rest on her next row.
Molly leaned over and put her head briefly on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You don’t talk about him, and I’m just trying to figure out what happened in high school to my best friend. Will you forgive my teasing and tell me?”
Lucy groaned and gave up. “Long story made blessedly short. It was the grad night party of his senior year. I was a junior. I had a nice boyfriend, Tim Snopes, who was on the football team: running back. We held hands and necked on Friday nights, but he had strep throat and couldn’t take me to the party. Owen had twenty-two girlfriends and he did more than neck.”
Molly snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“I could list the girls for you. In either alphabetical or chronological order.”
With a whirling hand
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