A Millionaire For Molly

She couldn’t. It was as simple as that.

But Angela was still on track. ‘Oh.’ A sigh of disappointment, but then, ‘Well, that’s something. You can work on it from there.’

‘And he’s leaving for the States on Tuesday-that’s the day after tomorrow.’

‘So work fast.’

‘Will you cut it out?’

‘But you kissed him.’

‘I don’t think even marriage vows will stop Jackson kissing women,’ Molly snapped. ‘The man’s seriously…’

‘Seriously?’

‘Seriously gorgeous.’ There. She’d said it. She plonked herself down on the chair opposite Angela and spread her hands in a plea.

‘Help,’ she said.

‘Help?’

‘Help. I’m in trouble.’

‘Trouble,’ Angela said cautiously. ‘What sort of trouble?’

‘I’ve been stupid.’

‘Like?’

‘Like I think I’ve fallen head over heels in love,’ she told her friend bluntly. She had to tell someone or she’d go mad. Or maybe she was mad anyway. ‘I know. I’m nuts. I’m stark staring nuts,’ she said. ‘And I have as much chance of attracting the man as flying, but there it is.’

‘Oh, Molly.’

‘And he’s not even sensible, like your Guy is. He’s way out of my league. He’s-’

‘You know, sensible is not all that terrific,’ Angela interrupted flatly. ‘I think unsensible has a whole heap going for it.’

‘Not when he’s committed to someone else.’

‘We don’t know how committed.’

‘They’re buying a farm together.’

‘There is that.’

‘Got any ideas?’

‘I’m thinking.’ Angela shook her head in bewilderment. ‘What with your playboy Jackson and my boring Guy, I’m thinking so hard I’m threatening to burst. Why don’t they teach us this stuff in property sales school? How to avoid accountants and ensnare rich clients.’

‘Ensnare rich clients with no strings attached. It’s not possible.’

‘We could try.’ She cast Molly a helpless glance. ‘You could try. Tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, right. So tomorrow I see him and I know full well he’s committed to another woman. You think I should sweep him off his feet?’

‘He can’t be all that committed if he’s kissing you.’ But Angela didn’t sound convinced.

‘Attached enough to be buying a farm for them to share. And don’t forget I’m not exactly footloose and fancy- free myself. I’m encumbered with one small boy.’

‘Yet you’re in love?’

There was only one answer to that. ‘Yes. I’m in love.’

‘Boy, you’re in deeper trouble than I am. Or just as much.’ Angela glared down at her diamond and suddenly tugged it from her finger, put it on the coffee table and regarded it with loathing. ‘There. There’s two of us in trouble now. Talk about sisterhood. But if you’re unhappy then I’m unhappy. Guy’s the most boring man on earth and I’m not putting that ring back on ’til he does something outrageous.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like…like kissing me like he really means it. Like wearing braces that don’t match his tie. Like not tying his shoelaces with the knots his grandmother taught him, or wearing black shoes with brown trousers. Or not putting every penny he earns into sensible investments or trading in his boring car for a honeymoon in the Bahamas. I don’t know. Anything! Unless it’s predictable.’

‘It’s not going to happen,’ Molly told her, and they sat and stared at each other in increasing misery.

‘What we need here is something for really desperate people,’ Angela said at last, coming to a decision because someone had to. She rose and tossed her keys onto the sideboard. ‘I’m off to the supermarket and I’m walking, because just thinking about what I’m going to buy will put me over the legal alcohol limit.’

‘What are you going to buy?’

‘Irish cream, Tia Maria ice cream and an industrial sized packet of Tim Tams,’ her friend told her. ‘That should fix all the men in our lives. Properly.’

Molly opened one eye and shut it again. Firmly. Mistake, she thought. Big mistake. On a scale of one to ten, it fell off the counter.

‘Molly?’

It was Sam. He was bending over her, lifting an eyelid. ‘Are you in there?’

‘No.’ She groaned and he chuckled.

‘Yes, you are. Angela was asleep in the lounge room. She told me she wasn’t in there either, but she is really. And you haven’t washed your dishes. There’s empty ice cream tubs, which I don’t think is fair because I didn’t eat any, but you haven’t finished all the Tim Tams so I ate seven for breakfast.’ He burped a very satisfactory small boy burp and grinned. ‘And now we’re going to be late.’

Oh, help. Molly lifted one eyelid a fraction of an inch and checked the time. And yelped. Late! She’d be lucky to be on time for the afternoon shift. And Sam should be at school. What sort of a responsible guardian was she, anyway?

But this was the first time he’d been late in the six months she’d been taking care of him. Maybe it wasn’t a hanging offence. She groaned and eyed her nephew with caution.

‘Sam, do you suppose you could work really, really hard and still be a brain surgeon if I declare this morning a holiday?’

Sam considered, his grin growing broader. Where had this grin come from? Molly thought, shaken out of her bleariness by its intensity. On Friday it had been as if his face would crack if he smiled. Now the grins were coming fast and furious.

‘Why is it a holiday?’ he asked, and Molly sought for inspiration.

‘It’s National Frog Day,’ she said promptly, and his lovely giggle filled her room.

‘You are silly.’

‘Yeah, and I’m also risking being sacked. Though I have just made the world’s biggest sale.’ She sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘Sorry, pet. Have you been awake for long?’

‘Mr Baird woke me up.’

‘Mr Baird?’

‘The doorbell went and I opened it,’ he told her. ‘He’s here and he’s brought a froghouse. In bits. We have to build it. It’s in the lounge room. Angela was there, but when I said come in to Mr Baird she went, “Yikes!” and she’s now in my bedroom, in my bed, with the bedcovers drawn up over her head. Do you think Mr Baird will give me another swimming lesson?’

‘I doubt it.’ The temptation to join Angela was almost overwhelming. ‘Um…is Mr Baird still here?’

‘Of course he is. With his present. The froghouse legs are in bits on the lounge room floor and I’ve been helping him read the instructions. We want to know where to put it, ’cos Mr Baird says he’s blowed if he’s moving it after it’s assembled. So he said I’d better wake you up, hangover or not.’ He peered closely at his dishevelled aunt. ‘That’s what he said. Have you got a hangover?’

‘No. Yes!’ Molly was staring at her nephew as if he’d grown horns. ‘He’s out there now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell him to go away.’

‘Tell him yourself.’ The voice was deep and growly and wonderfully familiar-and it made Molly jump a foot. She swivelled to find Jackson standing in the doorway, and by his unholy grin she knew he was enjoying himself very