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For all that a road ran through it, Chase stood at the edge of the farm as though standing at Molly’s door, uncertain of his welcome. Walking onto the property uninvited felt like crossing a line. Then again, Molly had never seemed to give a second thought to knocking on his door.
It was Molly’s fault: for months Chase couldn’t seem to get rid of her, and when he’d finally started to look forward to her visits they stopped altogether. She no longer showed up at his door at unreasonably early hours. She didn’t come to the bar during the night shift, and not that he was watching, but he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her wandering by on her way through town in days. No one in town had seen her or heard any news, and after a week Chase had had enough.
He’d noticed the fields in passing, but from the farmhouse he could see that they stretched along most of the property, every one planted with fall crops. His knock went unanswered.
Chase found her eventually in a patch of yams.
It wasn’t fair to Molly, really, that the sight of her was almost as irritating as it was relieving. A bit of it crept into his voice unbidden. “Where have you been?”
Molly swiped the back of her wrist across her forehead, leaving a smear of dirt from eyebrow to hairline. “Hi! Working,” she said, with a glance across the field that was part determination and part dismay. She turned back to him and smiled. “I may have planted too much. Looks like it’s going to be a long season.”
“Oh.” That was that, then. Chase felt ridiculous, now, having come all the way out just to find her doing what she did for a living, in the first place he’d thought to look, business as usual aside from the fact that she hadn’t shown up to bother him in a week. And here he was, bothering her when she had better things to do. “Well, whatever. I have to get to work,” Chase said, hardly satisfied with the visit but eager to leave.
Molly waved to him, kneeling on the dirty ground, covered head to toe in dust and smudges. There was something unsettling about her smile, nice as it was. “It was nice to see you. Come around anytime, okay?”
“I probably won’t,” Chase said, and left her to her work.
*
The next afternoon Chase searched the fields twice, only to hear Molly’s voice from the livestock barn. She emptied her rucksack into the shipping bin and joined him in the field.
“Hi, stranger! I’ve got too many plants and too many animals,” Molly joked, leading Chase into a section of carrots. “I figured more would be better, but now I’m not so sure.”
“You could downsize,” Chase suggested.
Molly frowned at him.
Chase backpedaled. “Not all of them. Just a few.”
The stubborn set of her mouth told him that she wouldn’t. “It just means I have to get up a bit earlier. It’s no big deal. I want to have Dale fix the roof before winter, and the only way to get there is through hard work and a lot of produce.” She made a vague gesture toward... well, everything.
Right. Just a bit earlier than the crack of dawn. “You realize there are only so many hours in a day, right? You have to sleep. And eat.”
Molly ignored him. “I’m going to need another barn, too. I shouldn’t have slacked off during the summer.”
“More animals?” She was impossible. “Why don’t you focus on one or the other? Animals or crops? You’re spreading yourself thin.”
“I do love my animals,” Molly said, with a fond look toward the barn. She turned to him with the same look, probably still thinking about her chickens. “But what are you going to cook with if I don’t supply the produce?”
Molly had him there. “Fine. Do what you want. But at least make sure to eat properly.”
Her glance at the sky was almost guilty, as good as an admission that she’d skipped lunch.
So Chase did the one thing he’d been trying to avoid since he’d moved to the valley, though he gave Molly a look to make sure she knew that she was beyond exasperating. “Can I help with anything?”
“Well, if you’re offering, you could add a few more hours to the day. No, really, I’m fine. Just forgetful.” Molly crinkled her nose at a weed and leaned down to pull it. He could see the corner of her upturned mouth, but the grin was gone when she straightened.
The words were out of Chase's mouth before he had time to consider them; he usually wouldn’t offer, because people around here were pushy, and one invitation or kind gesture meant you were stuck with them and all of their prying questions about your personal life. Especially when there was food involved. “I could bring you something tomorrow for lunch.” Which sounded way too eager, so he followed it with, “because otherwise you’re going to work yourself into the ground, and then we’ll need to find someone else to take over the farm. And make sure you wash your hands, or the deal’s off.”
She looked so surprised that Chase was almost offended, but then she smiled, and her shoulders slumped. "I would really appreciate it."
There was something about that smile that kept it on his mind for the rest of the night.
*
Tomorrow stretched into the days after, and before Chase knew it, lunch had become a habit.
Molly was an easy talker. She talked about her farm, all of her crops and animals with ridiculous names, all of her plans to expand her house and property. She let Chase get away with smiling and nodding along, filling his early afternoon with chatter while they ate, and always sent him off to work in a good mood.
Best of all, she loved his food, no matter what he cooked.
Molly asked questions that Chase had never wanted to know the answer to, specifically about the goings-on of people in Harmonica town. Bars attracted all kinds of talk, the sort of talk that Chase overheard while working and remembered regardless of his lack of interest. “You know more than you let on,” Molly accused, smiling to take the edge off, laughing when he said he didn’t want to know. "So what do they say about me?"
"Nothing good," Chase said, though he'd never heard a bad word. Lots of glowing praise, and the sort of speculation that happened to everyone, but the thought of repeating any of it made him feel uncomfortable.
"Good," Molly said. "I worked hard for that reputation."
The shift was subtle, from idle chatter to personal questions. “You don’t have to answer, but I was curious. Why did you move here?” So Chase told Molly the bare bones of the story and what had motivated him to move, about Yolanda’s reputation, how he liked to cook but hadn’t really figured out where that would take him yet, if anywhere.
As the weeks stretched on, he started to talk, and filled in the gaps – in his stories, in her conversation – with talk of his own.
*
Chase hadn’t expected her, but there she was, leaning on the counter, expression hopeful and dressed in clean clothes. It was the first time Chase had seen her without dirt from her fingertips to her elbows since she’d planted her fall crop. She chatted with Kathy by the till before she wandered down the bar.
“I feel like I haven’t seen anyone in weeks.” Molly waved to Maya, who looked up long enough to wave back before returning her undivided attention to chopping onions, then glanced around at the crowd, frowning at Kathy as she walked by with a stack of empty plates. “Did I miss the dinner rush?”
“I’ll get you something,” Chase said, escaping to the far corner of the kitchen.
Molly made her way from table to table throughout the night, with the sort of ease that had taken Chase months to get the hang of, like she’d moved into a town where she’d always been meant to belong, someday, and everyone had shifted to make room for her. There was something about her that made her easy to talk to, about anything at all, that Chase admired and envied. He’d moved to Harmonica to study cooking with Yolanda and to get away from people; he knew the people now, but talking to them had never been easy.
He noticed dirt under Molly’s fingernails when she returned to the bar to chat with Selena. She looked bone-tired, but she didn’t act it. She smiled whenever she caught his eye. When her conversation with Luke led to a spontaneous arm-wrestling match, Chase turned his attention to washing dishes until every plate sparkled, then threw his attention entirely into mixing cake batter. Maya fluttered nearby, occasionally wandering close enough to ask if he needed help.
Kathy elbowed him in the ribs as she passed. “Everything all right?”
“What?” Chase looked down at the mixing bowl in his hands, full of overworked batter.
Maya sniffed. “Kathy! Of course something’s wrong! He ruined that poor cake!”
Both of them were watching for a reaction when Molly reappeared at the counter. “I’d better hit the hay.” She waved to the girls. “I thought you might’ve had a bit of free time, but you’ve been busy all night. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Maya turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Chase turned to look at Molly, already resigned to the fact that he was never going to hear the end of it. “Sorry. Yeah, tomorrow.”
Everyone on staff knew by closing time.
Subtlety was lost on Kathy and Maya. While Hayden wiped down tables and put up chairs, Kathy joined them to wash glasses and plates. Maya snuck glances at Chase from the corner of her eye and exchanged looks with Kathy, straining Chase’s patience to breaking point. “What?”
“You know,” Maya said, wilting a little at his tone, “Luke hangs around here because of Selena. Yesterday I saw them walking together by the lighthouse. I think they’re D-A-T-I-N-G!”
It was none of Chase’s business, and he wanted to know about Luke and Selena’s love life as much as he wanted to know (as Ramsey had spent five minutes describing while Chase prepared his dinner plate) that Owen and Chloe had dug up a strange-looking chunk of silver in the mines that afternoon, which meant not at all. “Why would I care?”
Kathy rolled her eyes. "Luke told Molly that if she beat him at arm-wrestling, he would give her a discount on the cost of her new barn. Bet he’s eating his words now.”
“I don’t care,” Chase said.
Kathy snorted. “It’s not like you to screw up a recipe.”
They finished closing up in silence.
*
Maya showed up to her next lesson with a covered plate. She noticed Chase staring and stuck out her tongue. “They’re not for you,” she said, with a hint of a pout. “You’ll see Molly tomorrow, right? Tell her I said hi, and give her these!”
“I wouldn’t wish these on her, either,” Chase said.
Maya frowned, but forced the plate of cookies on him anyway. “Grandma helped,” she admitted, wandering to the sink to wash her hands, looking more forlorn than hand-washing warranted. Chase peeked under the cloth: they weren’t burned, at least, but that didn’t mean much. Maya dried her hands on a dishtowel and noticeably cheered up. “But I measured all of the ingredients and made sure they didn’t burn! They have my seal of approval, so of course they’re good, between grandma’s advice and my taste-testing.”
“I’m not taking them,” Chase insisted.
Maya paused with her hand on the counter. “Why not?”
Chase hedged and asked the obvious question. “Why don’t you take them yourself?”
“But you’re going to see her,” Maya insisted. “It’s easier this way. I know you think my cooking’s awful, but everyone likes cookies! Everyone.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Chase said. “And awful isn’t a strong enough word.”
“You know why,” Maya countered, tying on her apron and digging through the drawers for a measuring cup. “I’m trying to help. Besides, I like Molly, Molly likes cookies, and she doesn’t have time to make them for herself. I don’t think she’s eating enough! So there.”
As lessons went, it was a failure: Maya poured out a cup of salt instead of sugar, distracted by their argument, and Chase was too worked up to catch the error until the mix was ready to bake. They stood over the ruined batter in silence.
Eventually Maya walked away, untying her apron as she went. “I know what you’re gonna say, but these ones are different.”
*
“Maya helped make these,” Chase said, more to disclaim their quality than to give Maya credit.
Molly showed none of the reluctance Maya’s cooking inspired in Chase, which he assumed meant that she’d never tried Maya’s cooking. She pursed her lips and swallowed, then proved him wrong on both counts. “These are great! She’s improved a lot lately. I guess your lessons are working.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Chase said, which was the embarrassing truth: Maya had botched her first cake so badly that he’d refused to let her into the kitchen for two weeks, and the oven had been off-limits for baking ever since. If Maya had improved, it was Yolanda's doing.
Chase glanced over at Molly, whose eyes held the question she hadn’t yet asked, drawing out the story in spite of himself. “I can’t teach her anything,” he concluded, feeling relieved but uneasy. It wasn’t something he liked to admit; though he’d only started the lessons as a favour to Yolanda, the whole thing was one failure after another.
Molly eyed him over a second cookie. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I haven’t exactly been… I’ve been a jerk,” Chase admitted. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
“You can be, sometimes,” Molly said, and the words stung. She opened her mouth to continue, then broke a cookie down the middle and popped half into his mouth. “But, see, they’re actually pretty good. I wasn’t kidding. I think you’re underestimating her, but you’re also underestimating yourself. You’re a great cook and you care more than you let on. That’s what matters.”
If Molly noticed his blush, she didn’t let on, but she watched to make sure he finished the cookie.
*
Maya bounced into the kitchen. “Kathy said you took the plate! Did she like them?”
“Yes,” Chase said, distracted by finding the right thing to say. “They could have been worse.”
Maya’s smile faltered. “I know they weren’t the best. I don’t know if I’ll ever learn to cook,” Maya said, sticking out her lower lip. “I’ve been bothering you a lot, too, but I just wanted to help—”
“Sometimes I think you’re unteachable,” Chase interrupted, before he could change his mind, “and I’m really not the right person to teach you. But we can keep trying, if you want.” He was going to regret this. He knew he was going to regret this. Few things tried his patience like bad cooking, and Maya could turn a simple project into a disaster without trying. “You’ve improved, but you still have a long way to go, so you’d better be ready to try harder this time.”
Maya stared at him, open-mouthed.
“I’m gonna prove that I can do it!” Maya said, recovering after a star-struck moment.
“Besides,” Maya continued, making Chase regret the offer faster than he’d thought possible, “they say the way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach. If we’re cooking for your sweetheart, I want to do my best!”
*
Sweetheart.
He could drop the food off at her house, Chase decided, and make an excuse to leave. He was running late for work. He had somewhere else to be. Better things to do. Or he could be a jerk – Molly wouldn’t be surprised – and tell her to cook for herself. She fed herself breakfast and dinner; so what if she skipped lunch? She was a grown woman, and if Chase had to pick one thing to say about her, he would say that she worked harder than anyone else he knew. So what was one more thing to worry about? Molly could handle it. She could handle anything that came her way. She was—
Excuses all in order, Chase hesitated for a long time at the end of the road, then wandered into the fields to find her with his stomach in knots. He could run. That was the problem: it would be easier, but he hadn’t spent the whole morning cooking because he wanted to turn and run away. Hearing it out loud had made him panic, deny it, but Maya was right: deep down, he was trying to show Molly how he felt, in the best way he knew how. Which, today at least, happened to involve an orange cake.
It would be easier if Molly came to him, knocking at his door and pushing at his boundaries like she’d done before work had eaten her spare time, but if she couldn’t, then Chase would do what he could and be patient, make her life a little easier while he waited for her response.
The longer he wandered without seeing her, the longer he had to doubt his decision. He finally found Molly crouched between a row of eggplant and bare pumpkin vines. She spotted him coming from the edge of the field and held a pumpkin over her head, with a triumphant grin, before squeezing it into her rucksack. “Last one of the season! Just in time, too. We’re supposed to get snow tonight.”
The sight of her put him at ease. “Finally. Now what did I say about washing your hands?”
*
It would take a while for the ground to cool enough for snow to stick, but there was a thin blanket on the windowsill when Chase woke up. He lingered over breakfast and tried to think about the night’s bar menu. Tomorrow night’s menu. Winter clothes. Inventory. A recipe to use for Maya’s next lesson.
Molly always showed up by eight. By the time nine rolled around, Chase had a solid plan for the next week, an idea for a substitution that would spice up an old recipe, and a slight buzz of frustration that underpinned every thought. He took a deep breath and wandered over to the kitchen counter.
Well, winter would slow Molly down, or so he hoped, and if she continued working long hours on the farm, at least he knew where to find her. The farm was on his way to work, anyway, and stopping in had become a comfortable habit. She’d need something to keep up her strength, especially once the cold set in, and if he wanted to see her he… should probably start cooking, or he’d be late.
He was slicing carrots when Molly barged in without knocking.
She wore an oversized scarf and had a bushel perched on her hip, balancing it precariously with one hand while she elbowed the door closed with her free arm. “I’ve never been so happy to see snow,” she said, standing in a growing puddle of melt water, grinning while she toed off her boots. She pulled off the cover to show Chase that the basket was full of yams and carrots, but his mind had got tangled around the sight of her and hadn’t worked out a response.
Molly lingered in the doorway, suddenly unsure. “Wow, that was rude of me. Can I come in?”
“You’re already—Yeah, of course you can,” Chase said. “Any time you want.”