holding the tree straight in the stand while Jo tightened the screws against the trunk.
Jo chuckled in anticipation of the adorable story.
Amy rummaged through a drawer as she spoke, found a small sewing kit, and handed it to
Sophie. "I used to baby-sit Molly way, way back. She was four, I think, the first time I met her. I was twelve."
"Wow," Darby said. "You have known her a long time."
"Longer than you've been alive, honey. Anyway, when Molly was little, she had trouble with her Rs and she couldn't quite pronounce DiPrima correctly. She was 'Mauwy Pweemo.' I
started calling her Primo and it just sort of stuck."
Sophie and Darby looked at one another and then gave tandem awwwws at the idea of tiny
little Molly trying to pronounce her own name.
As if on cue, the front door opened and Molly came in, stomping the snow off her feet. Her
sunglasses covered her eyes and she made no immediate attempt at removing them.
"Everything okay?" Jo asked innocently.
"Oh, yeah. Fine. Kristin's going to be stuck longer than she thought, so she won't be here until tomorrow." The group was silent and Molly continued on. "Hey, the tree looks
fantastic. Very nice." She took off her boots and lined them up neatly on the mat, then
shed her coat and hung it up on the rack. Clearing her throat, she excused herself to the
bathroom upstairs, her sunglasses still shading her eyes.
Amy and Jo exchanged glances and Amy waited a couple minutes before following her
friend up the stairs.
The sun spilled through the window of the guest room, making the
dust motes floating in the air visible like tiny snowflakes and bathing the quilt-covered bed in warm, inviting light. Despite the ambience, Molly felt cold. She sat on the edge of the
bed, her hands tucked between her knees, and gazed out onto the snowy landscape. The
sunglasses were tossed onto the nightstand.
Amy sat gently next to her. "You okay?" Her quiet voice stil seemed a loud disturbance in the stillness of the room.
"Do you think she's having an affair?" Molly didn't turn to look at her friend.
Amy inhaled and slowly let out her breath. She tucked a lock of Molly's dark hair behind
her ear. "Do you?"
"I don't know. I want to say no. I want to say I know her better than that, that she'd
never do such a thing, but the truth is, how would I know? I never see her. We hardly ever
talk any more. I can't even remember the last time we made love. She spends so much time
working, it seems like all she thinks about is more money. I feel like I hardly know her
anymore. And she certainly doesn't know me."
"What do you mean?"
Molly stood and crossed the room to her bag. Rifling through it, she came out with a square
blue box and sat back down next to Amy. She handed Amy the box. "This is what she gave
me for Christmas."
Amy opened the hinged box and sucked in a breath. Nestled in the navy blue velvet interior
was a watch. It was gold and dainty, exceptionally fancy and encrusted with diamonds.
"God, it's beautiful," she whispered.
"Isn't it?"
Amy looked up and met Molly's green eyes, tinged red around the edges; She'd known Molly
for thirty years and though she cleaned up tremendously well and was an extremely
beautiful woman, she was also what Amy liked to call "earthy." She wore denim skirts and cotton blouses and hammered silver jewelry. She preferred a ratty sweatshirt to silk, she
preferred leather to gold. She wore a single silver band on her left hand, not interested in
a diamond version at all. The watch Amy held was as far from Molly's personality as one
could get. Shouldn't her partner know that?
Molly watched the pieces fall into place on Amy's freckled face.
"You'd never wear this," Amy stated.
"No. I'd be afraid to."
"I bet it was expensive."
"Hugely. Ridiculously."
"Does she know how you feel?"
Molly snorted. "Of course not. I oohed and aahed over it like a good little wife."
"Jesus, Molly."
"I know." Molly closed her eyes. "I know."
"You have
Jo chuckled in anticipation of the adorable story.
Amy rummaged through a drawer as she spoke, found a small sewing kit, and handed it to
Sophie. "I used to baby-sit Molly way, way back. She was four, I think, the first time I met her. I was twelve."
"Wow," Darby said. "You have known her a long time."
"Longer than you've been alive, honey. Anyway, when Molly was little, she had trouble with her Rs and she couldn't quite pronounce DiPrima correctly. She was 'Mauwy Pweemo.' I
started calling her Primo and it just sort of stuck."
Sophie and Darby looked at one another and then gave tandem awwwws at the idea of tiny
little Molly trying to pronounce her own name.
As if on cue, the front door opened and Molly came in, stomping the snow off her feet. Her
sunglasses covered her eyes and she made no immediate attempt at removing them.
"Everything okay?" Jo asked innocently.
"Oh, yeah. Fine. Kristin's going to be stuck longer than she thought, so she won't be here until tomorrow." The group was silent and Molly continued on. "Hey, the tree looks
fantastic. Very nice." She took off her boots and lined them up neatly on the mat, then
shed her coat and hung it up on the rack. Clearing her throat, she excused herself to the
bathroom upstairs, her sunglasses still shading her eyes.
Amy and Jo exchanged glances and Amy waited a couple minutes before following her
friend up the stairs.
The sun spilled through the window of the guest room, making the
dust motes floating in the air visible like tiny snowflakes and bathing the quilt-covered bed in warm, inviting light. Despite the ambience, Molly felt cold. She sat on the edge of the
bed, her hands tucked between her knees, and gazed out onto the snowy landscape. The
sunglasses were tossed onto the nightstand.
Amy sat gently next to her. "You okay?" Her quiet voice stil seemed a loud disturbance in the stillness of the room.
"Do you think she's having an affair?" Molly didn't turn to look at her friend.
Amy inhaled and slowly let out her breath. She tucked a lock of Molly's dark hair behind
her ear. "Do you?"
"I don't know. I want to say no. I want to say I know her better than that, that she'd
never do such a thing, but the truth is, how would I know? I never see her. We hardly ever
talk any more. I can't even remember the last time we made love. She spends so much time
working, it seems like all she thinks about is more money. I feel like I hardly know her
anymore. And she certainly doesn't know me."
"What do you mean?"
Molly stood and crossed the room to her bag. Rifling through it, she came out with a square
blue box and sat back down next to Amy. She handed Amy the box. "This is what she gave
me for Christmas."
Amy opened the hinged box and sucked in a breath. Nestled in the navy blue velvet interior
was a watch. It was gold and dainty, exceptionally fancy and encrusted with diamonds.
"God, it's beautiful," she whispered.
"Isn't it?"
Amy looked up and met Molly's green eyes, tinged red around the edges; She'd known Molly
for thirty years and though she cleaned up tremendously well and was an extremely
beautiful woman, she was also what Amy liked to call "earthy." She wore denim skirts and cotton blouses and hammered silver jewelry. She preferred a ratty sweatshirt to silk, she
preferred leather to gold. She wore a single silver band on her left hand, not interested in
a diamond version at all. The watch Amy held was as far from Molly's personality as one
could get. Shouldn't her partner know that?
Molly watched the pieces fall into place on Amy's freckled face.
"You'd never wear this," Amy stated.
"No. I'd be afraid to."
"I bet it was expensive."
"Hugely. Ridiculously."
"Does she know how you feel?"
Molly snorted. "Of course not. I oohed and aahed over it like a good little wife."
"Jesus, Molly."
"I know." Molly closed her eyes. "I know."
"You have
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