reception first.”
Sabrina gave her a brief rundown of the events, describing
Cybil and Shuck’s reaction in great detail when she announced the elopement.
She told Molly about the part where Gage stepped in and omitted the rest.
Sabrina was sure that the vague dénouement would pique Molly’s
curiosity, but her friend seemed to be paying more attention to transferring
tiny sizzling dumplings into a serving dish.
“I turned into the most profligate shopper in Paris,” she
confessed, putting the sauté pan in the sink. “I discovered the most delightful
fabric stores in Montmartre. Come see.”
Molly had converted Sabrina’s former bedroom into a
combination sewing space and repository for spare furniture. Half-finished
quilts were strewn over a bed, along with cotton batting and quilting blocks.
Molly took craftiness to a whole new level. She had a particular flair for
taking throwaway clothing — scraps cut from antique dressing gowns,
kimonos and saris — and stitching them into intricate, asymmetrical
patterns. Sabrina, whose prowess with a needle and thread began and ended with
sewing on buttons, was in awe of her best friend’s skill.
“First things first.” Molly dug around in an ancient
rucksack and produced a small carrier bag. Sabrina’s eyes widened when she saw
the Les Salons Du Palais Royal Shiseido logo.
“ Rahat Loukoum ,” Sabrina breathed as she clasped the
Serge Lutens bell jar to her bosom. “I forgive you completely for ditching me
at your wedding.”
“I knew you’d be a pushover for the perfume. But that’s not
the only reason I asked you to come over tonight.” She gave Sabrina a worried
look.
“No dodging, Molls. I beg of you.”
“No dodging,” Molly agreed. She took a deep breath. “Your
house.”
“What about it?”
“Brini, you’re in deep.”
“You’ve been talking to Nola,” Sabrina grumbled.
“I always talk to Nola, remember? Sit. Talk to me now.”
Molly pulled one of the quilts away and patted the side of the bed.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sabrina told her as they
sat. “I should have never asked Jackson to sign over his interest. It’s just
that simple.”
“Well, Sebastian and I put our heads together,” Molly said.
“I think we might have a solution to your cash flow problem.”
Sabrina was moved. “That’s sweet, Molls. But unless you’re
planning a bank heist, I’ll have to put my home on the market. I can’t find
anyone to lease the spare bedroom to — at least no one sane.”
And no housemate would be permanent, she reminded herself.
There was the future to consider. It was unrealistic to assume that one person
would rent a room from her for a long period of time. Sabrina would have to
rely on one stranger after the next. Each would come into her home with her own
quirks, habits, and possibly a lot of terrible furniture.
She couldn’t abide it.
“Sebastian and I found you a boarder — a good one,”
Molly announced with a smile. “We’ll both vouch for him.”
“ Him ?”
“I know, I know. Having a man in your personal space isn’t
what you want right now. But it is a solution, Brini. He’s gainfully
employed, and he’s as honest as the day is long. He won’t make any passes.”
“Why not?” Sabrina wondered aloud. “Is he gay?”
“No.” Molly giggled. “He’s old-fashioned.”
“Just how ‘old-fashioned’ are we talking about?” Sabrina
asked. “Mr. Darcy? Professor Bhaer?”
“Think Richard Collier in ‘Somewhere in Time.’ Sebastian’s
known him since forever. Can you imagine any of his friends taking liberties?”
That was the problem. One already had. “Do I know him?”
Sabrina asked.
“Hmm.” Molly tilted her head and studied the corner of the
room. “I don’t think Sebastian and I have introduced you to him. Actually, I’m
sure we haven’t.”
“So what’s his story?” Sabrina asked, resigned.
“The lease on his place is up, and he wants to rent
something
Sabrina gave her a brief rundown of the events, describing
Cybil and Shuck’s reaction in great detail when she announced the elopement.
She told Molly about the part where Gage stepped in and omitted the rest.
Sabrina was sure that the vague dénouement would pique Molly’s
curiosity, but her friend seemed to be paying more attention to transferring
tiny sizzling dumplings into a serving dish.
“I turned into the most profligate shopper in Paris,” she
confessed, putting the sauté pan in the sink. “I discovered the most delightful
fabric stores in Montmartre. Come see.”
Molly had converted Sabrina’s former bedroom into a
combination sewing space and repository for spare furniture. Half-finished
quilts were strewn over a bed, along with cotton batting and quilting blocks.
Molly took craftiness to a whole new level. She had a particular flair for
taking throwaway clothing — scraps cut from antique dressing gowns,
kimonos and saris — and stitching them into intricate, asymmetrical
patterns. Sabrina, whose prowess with a needle and thread began and ended with
sewing on buttons, was in awe of her best friend’s skill.
“First things first.” Molly dug around in an ancient
rucksack and produced a small carrier bag. Sabrina’s eyes widened when she saw
the Les Salons Du Palais Royal Shiseido logo.
“ Rahat Loukoum ,” Sabrina breathed as she clasped the
Serge Lutens bell jar to her bosom. “I forgive you completely for ditching me
at your wedding.”
“I knew you’d be a pushover for the perfume. But that’s not
the only reason I asked you to come over tonight.” She gave Sabrina a worried
look.
“No dodging, Molls. I beg of you.”
“No dodging,” Molly agreed. She took a deep breath. “Your
house.”
“What about it?”
“Brini, you’re in deep.”
“You’ve been talking to Nola,” Sabrina grumbled.
“I always talk to Nola, remember? Sit. Talk to me now.”
Molly pulled one of the quilts away and patted the side of the bed.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sabrina told her as they
sat. “I should have never asked Jackson to sign over his interest. It’s just
that simple.”
“Well, Sebastian and I put our heads together,” Molly said.
“I think we might have a solution to your cash flow problem.”
Sabrina was moved. “That’s sweet, Molls. But unless you’re
planning a bank heist, I’ll have to put my home on the market. I can’t find
anyone to lease the spare bedroom to — at least no one sane.”
And no housemate would be permanent, she reminded herself.
There was the future to consider. It was unrealistic to assume that one person
would rent a room from her for a long period of time. Sabrina would have to
rely on one stranger after the next. Each would come into her home with her own
quirks, habits, and possibly a lot of terrible furniture.
She couldn’t abide it.
“Sebastian and I found you a boarder — a good one,”
Molly announced with a smile. “We’ll both vouch for him.”
“ Him ?”
“I know, I know. Having a man in your personal space isn’t
what you want right now. But it is a solution, Brini. He’s gainfully
employed, and he’s as honest as the day is long. He won’t make any passes.”
“Why not?” Sabrina wondered aloud. “Is he gay?”
“No.” Molly giggled. “He’s old-fashioned.”
“Just how ‘old-fashioned’ are we talking about?” Sabrina
asked. “Mr. Darcy? Professor Bhaer?”
“Think Richard Collier in ‘Somewhere in Time.’ Sebastian’s
known him since forever. Can you imagine any of his friends taking liberties?”
That was the problem. One already had. “Do I know him?”
Sabrina asked.
“Hmm.” Molly tilted her head and studied the corner of the
room. “I don’t think Sebastian and I have introduced you to him. Actually, I’m
sure we haven’t.”
“So what’s his story?” Sabrina asked, resigned.
“The lease on his place is up, and he wants to rent
something
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