of guests. It seemed Quinn intended to do the same.
Holding her breath, she steeled herself for his criticism.
Chapter Eight
It hadn’t occurred to Quinn that anyone would take his words seriously. How could they? Molly was so incredibly talented. Combining her skills with the love she put into her work, she was unparalleled as a mother and homemaker.
But the look on her face told him he’d made a mistake. Keeping his smile in place, he explained, “She didn’t teach Sara that her chicken casserole is much better than a hot dog.”
The other ladies laughed. Molly stared at him, a look of disbelief on her face.
Had her husband not appreciated her? Had Christopher been cruel to her? That thought had Quinn’s stomach clenching in anger and disgust.
“We’re ready for birthday cake!” Sara announced in a loud voice, followed by cheers from the other children.
Molly wrenched her gaze from him and left her unfinished meal to tend to the children. He immediately followed her.
“Can I help?”
“No, I’ll manage, thank you. Go finish your casserole.”
“My turn to help,” Pam said behind him, having followed them. “Go keep Martha company. I know you’re a favorite of hers.”
But Quinn didn’t want to be dismissed. As Molly began clearing away the paper plates with the remains of the hot dogs, he grabbed a trash bag and held it open for her as she rounded the table.
“Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”
“It’ll be faster.”
He felt someone tugging on his shirt and discovered Sara behind him.
“Mr. Spencer, have you seen my cake?”
“No, Sara, I haven’t. Is it chocolate?”
“Yes, and it’s Mickey!” Sara’s face was beaming.
“Mickey?” he asked, not quite sure of the significance of her words.
“Mickey Mouse!” Sara clarified. “Mommy made it!”
“I want to see!” Jeremy called, followed by the other children, jumping out of their chairs to follow Sara.
“Back in your seats, so we can bring the cake to the table,” Molly calmly ordered. “If you’re not in your chair, I won’t be able to give you any cake and ice cream.”
There was a concerted rush to the chairs. Several tumbled over, and Quinn abandoned the trash bag to restore order.
Molly crossed to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, bringing out a large plate holding a cake in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head. The children oohed and aahed when they saw the cake. The ladies came over to surround the little tables as Molly inserted candles into the icing.
“Did you do the cake yourself?” Pam asked.
“Yes,” Molly answered as she lit the candles.
Quinn was amazed. He’d occasionally seen decorated cakes in a bakery, but they hadn’t looked any better than Molly’s.
She led the little group in a round of “Happy Birthday,” then ordered the delighted Sara to make a wish and blow out the candles. When that ritual had been performed, amid lots of cheers, the dishing out of cake and ice cream began.
When all the children had been served, Quinn returned to his chicken casserole, promising Sara he’d eat some of her cake later. He was discovering that small children rushed through everything at a birthday party. If he’d tried to eat that fast, he’d have indigestion.
He noticed Molly barely ate anything. She was too busy supervising the children and moving on to the next stage before they could get impatient.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” Martha whispered as Molly returned to the children’s table to settle a dispute.
“Absolutely,” Kaitlin agreed. “I’d love to have her come work for me, but she’s too busy. I hope the bed-and-breakfast succeeds.”
“It has to,” Quinn said. “She’s too good. Once anyone eats her cooking, or sees how much effort she’s put into the house, they won’t be able to resist.”
“I think we need to find her a husband, though,” Martha said quietly.
Quinn tried to hide the sudden protest that welled up in him. “I’m not sure she’s
Holding her breath, she steeled herself for his criticism.
Chapter Eight
It hadn’t occurred to Quinn that anyone would take his words seriously. How could they? Molly was so incredibly talented. Combining her skills with the love she put into her work, she was unparalleled as a mother and homemaker.
But the look on her face told him he’d made a mistake. Keeping his smile in place, he explained, “She didn’t teach Sara that her chicken casserole is much better than a hot dog.”
The other ladies laughed. Molly stared at him, a look of disbelief on her face.
Had her husband not appreciated her? Had Christopher been cruel to her? That thought had Quinn’s stomach clenching in anger and disgust.
“We’re ready for birthday cake!” Sara announced in a loud voice, followed by cheers from the other children.
Molly wrenched her gaze from him and left her unfinished meal to tend to the children. He immediately followed her.
“Can I help?”
“No, I’ll manage, thank you. Go finish your casserole.”
“My turn to help,” Pam said behind him, having followed them. “Go keep Martha company. I know you’re a favorite of hers.”
But Quinn didn’t want to be dismissed. As Molly began clearing away the paper plates with the remains of the hot dogs, he grabbed a trash bag and held it open for her as she rounded the table.
“Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”
“It’ll be faster.”
He felt someone tugging on his shirt and discovered Sara behind him.
“Mr. Spencer, have you seen my cake?”
“No, Sara, I haven’t. Is it chocolate?”
“Yes, and it’s Mickey!” Sara’s face was beaming.
“Mickey?” he asked, not quite sure of the significance of her words.
“Mickey Mouse!” Sara clarified. “Mommy made it!”
“I want to see!” Jeremy called, followed by the other children, jumping out of their chairs to follow Sara.
“Back in your seats, so we can bring the cake to the table,” Molly calmly ordered. “If you’re not in your chair, I won’t be able to give you any cake and ice cream.”
There was a concerted rush to the chairs. Several tumbled over, and Quinn abandoned the trash bag to restore order.
Molly crossed to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, bringing out a large plate holding a cake in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head. The children oohed and aahed when they saw the cake. The ladies came over to surround the little tables as Molly inserted candles into the icing.
“Did you do the cake yourself?” Pam asked.
“Yes,” Molly answered as she lit the candles.
Quinn was amazed. He’d occasionally seen decorated cakes in a bakery, but they hadn’t looked any better than Molly’s.
She led the little group in a round of “Happy Birthday,” then ordered the delighted Sara to make a wish and blow out the candles. When that ritual had been performed, amid lots of cheers, the dishing out of cake and ice cream began.
When all the children had been served, Quinn returned to his chicken casserole, promising Sara he’d eat some of her cake later. He was discovering that small children rushed through everything at a birthday party. If he’d tried to eat that fast, he’d have indigestion.
He noticed Molly barely ate anything. She was too busy supervising the children and moving on to the next stage before they could get impatient.
“She’s good, isn’t she?” Martha whispered as Molly returned to the children’s table to settle a dispute.
“Absolutely,” Kaitlin agreed. “I’d love to have her come work for me, but she’s too busy. I hope the bed-and-breakfast succeeds.”
“It has to,” Quinn said. “She’s too good. Once anyone eats her cooking, or sees how much effort she’s put into the house, they won’t be able to resist.”
“I think we need to find her a husband, though,” Martha said quietly.
Quinn tried to hide the sudden protest that welled up in him. “I’m not sure she’s
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