Page 71 of The Last Autograph
Three—what a sad little number. Even the word had a certain melancholy about it.
She walked in from the back door, several sprigs of parsley in her hand. “There you are. I was beginning to think I’d be eating on my own.”
Jake stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, it’s been one of those days.”
She frowned at him. “I worry about you.”
“I know. But don’t… I’m fine.”
“And what about Molly Parker? Have you seen her lately?”
“Just this afternoon, actually.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t approve.”
Jake didn’t have it in him to argue. He just wanted to eat dinner in peace and go home for an early night. “Noted.”
“Look, I’ve tried to keep an open mind, but that woman had some kind of hold over Jesse, and now it seems she’s moved on to you.” His mother crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine and two cans of beer. “And I can’t shake the suspicion that she’s after everything she can get her hands on.”
“You’re judging her unfairly?—”
“Oh, come on. She didn’t even have the decency to attend Jesse’s service, but as soon as there’s money up for grabs, she appears on your doorstep, shedding crocodile tears.” She peered out the window that faced the driveway. “Where’s your father? I told him dinner was at six thirty sharp.”
“Hold your horses.” His dad’s voice boomed along the hallway. “I’m here.”
He entered the room and placed a package on the kitchen counter. His gaze darting between the two of them, he frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Jake was just telling me about that Molly Parker.”
His dad pulled the tab on a can of beerand took a sip. “Well, she’s actually a very nice girl. I met her at the art auction, and she’s absolutely delightful. Has a real way about her.”
She huffed. “Trust you to say that.”
“What do you expect me to say? She was Jesse’s friend, and that’s good enough for me.”
Jake set a green salad on the table and then turned to his father once they both sat. “I have the drumsticks.”
“What drumsticks?” his mother asked as she served lasagna onto their plates.
He recalled Molly’s visit and her expression when he explained their significance—her sadness or, possibly, regret. “The autographed ones I looked for after Jesse died. Molly had them all along.”
“No.” She sat at the head of the table. “Are you sure they’re the same ones?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Jesse sent them to her parents’ place after his first chemo treatment.”
“That can’t be true,” she said. “Jesse wouldn’t do that without telling us.”
“Perhaps in a normal life, but his life was far from normal at that point,” his father said. “He believed he was dying. How could anyone have known he’d go into remission, especially him?”
“Well tell me this, if she meant so much to him, why didn’t he try to find her again?”
“Maybe he did,” Jake said.
“Or perhaps he didn’t want to disrupt her life,” Henry offered. “We need to remember that they were just a couple of kids having a bit of summer fun.”
She turned to her son. “And what does Molly have to say about all this?”
“She seemed shocked when I explained their significance,” Jake replied. “Typical Jesse, there was no note in the package or even a return address. Now she’s given them to me—so we can keep them in the family.”
