“Excuse me. I’m so sorry to bother you.” She took a tentative step into the office and held up the business card. “I’m looking for Grant Tranton, but I think I might be in the wrong place.”

The man looked up but only briefly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He’s not here.”

A pause.

“But this is his office?”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Okay. Do you, by chance, know where I could find him? I have an eleven o’clock appointment.”

He sighed and straightened. “I wish I did. The contents of this office have been seized as evidence. Mr. Tranton is wanted on several charges. We’d be interested in any information you may have about his whereabouts.” The man covered the distance between them and handed Molly his card.

She stared numbly at the letters. Federal Bureau of Investigation. “He’s wanted on charges?”

“Quite a list of them. Money laundering, fraud, identity theft among others. And that’s only the most recent string. He’s made a career of it. I’d like to get a statement from you about your interaction.”

She stood there, shell shocked as the information settled. On impulse, she dialed Grant’s number, but the singsong notification that informed her his phone number was no longer in service was the tipping point. The grim understanding caused most of the color to fade from the room.

She just kept hearing the words this can’t be happening repeated on some endless loop in her head. It made her dizzy. She prayed to God it was all just a misunderstanding, but she was smart enough to know it probably wasn’t.

The ramifications of it all occurred to her one at a time, tumbling down on her like the contents of a messy closet. Grant Tranton was a criminal. He was probably on the run. There would be no partnership. No advance check. And, God, no bakeshop.

It was over.

She grasped the doorjamb for support, feeling lightheaded and so very, very stupid. “Thank you for your help.”

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

She met his gaze. “No. I don’t think so.”

*

Jordan checked her watch. She was eight minutes late, which was pretty good for her. The restaurant George had picked for dinner was one she’d never been to before, but had all the foodies in the area raving. She didn’t have much of an appetite these days, but she’d try to eat something to be polite.

She’d been back in Chicago for a couple of weeks now and hadn’t spent much time with George outside of work. But then again, she hadn’t spent time with anyone outside of work.

She pushed her sunglasses onto her head and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the restaurant. As she headed to the hostess stand, she was quickly intercepted.

“There you are, beautiful person.” George pulled her in and kissed her cheek loudly. “We weren’t expecting you for another seven minutes.”

“Because I’m generally—”

“Running fifteen minutes behind schedule, yes. It’s my job as your friend to be acutely aware of your shortcomings and love you despite them. And voila, I do. Are you ready to meet the love of my life?”

She smiled at George because his eyes were dancing with excitement and it was adorable. “I am. You’ve been talking this guy up for weeks. I have to see if he measures up. You know, in my job capacity as your friend. See how that works both ways?”

“You’re very astute. Right this way. Our table, and the very handsome Robert, await our presence. Be nice, whatever you do.”

She batted her eyelashes. “I’m always nice.” Plastering a smile on her face, she followed George to their table. Robert’s back was to them as they approached, but when he saw George, he stood politely and turned.

She froze. Absolutely speechless, that’s how she felt.

He, on the other, looked nervous. “Hey, Jordy. Good to see ya.”

“Little Bobby.” She turned to George in shock. “You’re dating Little Bobby? Robert is Bobby?” Worlds were colliding. She swiveled back to Bobby. “You’re seeing George? I didn’t know you were—Wait. We have to rewind. That makes you gay. You’re gay ?”

Bobby offered a small smile and shrugged. “No one knew except me. And, well, George. He seems to have a way of just knowing things.” He exchanged a private look with George who motioned for them all to sit.

“So all of this time you two have been seeing each other? Since your stay in Applewood?” Jordan looked from one of her friends to the other. Her mind was still scrambling to catch up.

George offered her an apologetic look. “Guilty. But in all fairness, we were taking things slow.”

“At my request,” Bobby supplied. “I’ve known who I am for some time now, but I never acted on it in any sort of official capacity like this. And until I met George, I thought I never would. I was planning on bachelorhood for life. This is so much better.”

Jordan shook her head. “I don’t know what to say. I’m floored.” Except as she saw the happiness between them, the genuine warmth of their stares, she found the words. “I love both of you dearly, and once the shock subsides, will be so very happy you’ve found each other. I’m mystified, but in a really good way. To new beginnings.” She raised her glass to the two wonderful men in front of her, who clinked their glasses and beamed back at her.

And for the first time in weeks, the smile on her face felt genuine. “I’m still the best friend though, right?”

“Right,” they answered in unison.

The rest of dinner consisted of talk about Journey, location scouting, and an agreement on some last-minute equipment purchases. They were scheduled to start shooting their first project in just five short weeks, and Jordan couldn’t have been more ready. Anything to distract her mind from the very acute sense of sadness she’d been inundated with these past few weeks.

George settled his chin onto his hand. “There is one more thing I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“I don’t think anything you could say will shock me more than you already have. Go for it.”

“I’m moving to Applewood.” He raised a hand to preclude her from interjecting too quickly. “Robert’s got the bar to run, and I’m perfectly capable of commuting. It shouldn’t change my role in the shoot at all, as most of it will be on location anyway. It just means on office days, I’ll have to wake up a little earlier to make the drive to the city. I’m capable of driving. I’ll even sing in the car.”

She thought it over in amusement. “George Underwood living in small town, USA. Someone should make a film about this . Who needs suicide forests?”

Bobby slid her a hopeful look. “You could move home too, Jordan. Make your parents happy.”

“That it would. But I think I’m best right where I am.”

George studied her. “You’re not over her, you know. Molly. And don’t look so surprised. I filled Robert in on all the details, and he brought to the table a few details of his own. We’re on to you. You act like it was just a little fling, a blip in your history, when we all know it was much more than that.”

“It was more than that. But it’s done now. The movie’s over.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Why are you running?”

She tossed her napkin onto the table. “You know what? There’s a lot there and I’d rather not get into it.”

“But look how miserable you are,” Bobby pointed out. “It’s written all over your face. Molly’s too. And now that Flour Child’s closing, she’s been even more withdrawn. Barely shows her face anymore.”

Jordan paused as her stomach dropped out from beneath her automatically. “What do you mean it’s closing? When did this happen?”

Bobby studied her curiously. “Molly put the word out a couple of weeks ago. Thursday is the shop’s last day. You didn’t know?”

She shook her head. Her parents hadn’t mentioned anything, but then Molly seemed to be a subject matter they purposefully avoided. She turned to Bobby as she tried to piece it together. “I don’t understand. She had a plan, a business deal with a distributor that would fund the business, get it back in shape.”

“I heard it fell through,” Bobby said. “The whole town’s broken up about losing the shop. Wish they’d thought of that before they gave so much of their business to that stupid Starbucks.”

George reached for her hand. “You’re not gonna leave her out there on her own on this, are you? Sweetheart, she could use some moral support about now.”

She pulled her hand away, her mood having taken a horrible hit after the news she’d just received. The concept of Molly without Flour Child was unthinkable, and it made her sick to her stomach just thinking about how Molly must be feeling. She could no longer concentrate on the conversation. Her brain had taken a sharp detour. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s important that I not upset her life right now.”

George gave her a long look. “And dropping out of it completely isn’t upsetting for her?”

Damn it, he had a point.

*

Jordan was pacing, which was so cliché and straight from some sort of Perry Mason movie that she couldn’t believe she was doing it. Yet, somehow it helped her think, or not think, which she thought might be a better alternative.

It was after ten. Too late to call. That and the fifteen other million excuses she’d dreamed up argued that she should skip the whole thing and watch boring late night television to dull her senses, possibly pour herself a scotch.

But, no. Absolutely not. She was more mature than that, and it was time to start acting like it. She decided to just go for it. Before she knew it, she’d dialed the number and held her breath as it rang a second, a third, and a fourth time. Finally, there she was.

“Hello.”

She closed her eyes at the sound of Molly’s voice. The voice she’d spent the past few weeks attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to push from her thoughts.

“Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you.

“Uh, no. Just in time though.”

A long pause. “How are you?

“Getting by. You?”

“I’m fine, I guess.” She kept her eyes closed against the onslaught of emotion she was already feeling. God, this was hard. “I heard about the shop today, and I wanted to call and tell you how sorry I am.”

“Thanks. Me too.” Molly blew out a breath and Jordan could tell she was settling into the conversation. Despite everything, they still seemed to be dialed into each other. “The deal fell through. It was all a sham. At least I think it was. Probably some sort of front for Tranton’s behind the scenes business transactions. He was arrested last week in Florida. He’s a criminal.”

“That’s horrible. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling.”

“It’s been hard. I had to tell my dad yesterday. That was the worst part.”

“How did he take it?”

“Just as you would imagine. He says all the right things. He’s the best dad ever, but underneath, I could tell it crushed him. I could see it right there in his eyes. He and my mom started the business in their early twenties. He trusted me with it and I—” Her voice was strangled when she broke off, and Jordan could tell that emotion had gotten her.

“Molly, listen to me. You did everything you possibly could. Everyone loves that place, and they just took for granted that you would always be there.”

“Thanks for saying that. It helps, I don’t know, to hear that from you.” A pause. “I guess I should go. I’m glad you called.”

“Me too. Hang in there.”

“I will.”

God, she missed her. “Molly?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to be okay?”

Another pause. “Maybe over time. This is a start. I suppose I’ll see you at the next family gathering. Fourth of July?”

“I love fireworks.”

“I know.”

“Good night, Molly.”

“Night.”

Jordan stared at the phone for a good twenty minutes before pulling herself off the couch and heading into her cold, empty bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-six

Early Sunday evening, Molly closed up shop for the day and headed off down the sidewalk to her car. She had four days left as a small business owner and then it would be time to decide what life had in store for her next. Deb Paulson, who owned the diner down the street, had offered her a position. She was hoping to spice up her dessert menu and was thrilled to have a chance to bring Molly in. That or she was just a nice lady who saw someone in need of a job. It could really be either.

She decided to pick up dinner for her dad. It would be a nice change from the cafeteria food. She carried the baked chicken into his room and found him staring intently at a chessboard midgame.

“Beating yourself again?”

He looked up and smiled. “I get so frustrated at how good I am. Look at this. I never seem to be able to take myself down.”