Snow Angels by Kelly Irvin

Author:Kelly Irvin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2017-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Baking soda, white hair conditioner, and silver glitter. Voilà. Snow. Molly grinned to herself as she pushed through the library’s glass door and stepped onto Corpus Christi Street. The librarian, Miss Karen, used the word voilà and snapped her fingers after showing Molly the video on the computer on something called YouTube. Two little twin girls who made fake snow with two different recipes. Miss Karen had tried both for one of the story-hour activities she did with children who came to the library. She liked the conditioner one better than the other one. It packed better for snowballs, every child’s dream in South Texas. Next stop, Walmart for her three ingredients.

Molly shivered. The sun had disappeared behind a thick mat of woolly gray clouds. The wind had turned colder in the half hour she’d been inside the steamy two-story building with its blond brick trimmed in red. She glanced in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows gracing the first floor. She could see herself, her white apron flapping in the breeze in time to the strings on her kapp. Her cheeks were red and her hair flopping loose in the back. Winter had arrived.

“Molly, Molly, wait!”

She’d only heard that voice once before, but it had etched itself on her brain. She breathed in. The cool air made her lungs ache. She turned. “Hey, Bobbie. How are you?”

Bobbie fell in step next to Molly, the heels of her purple cowboy boots pinging against the sidewalk. She wore faded blue jeans and a sheepskin-lined jean jacket. A red plaid flannel shirt peeked from the top of the jacket. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She shoved blonde hair from her face and tugged her white cowboy hat tighter on her head. “I can’t believe this weather. It’s downright nippy.”

“It is.”

“But you’re not interested in talking about the weather with me.”

“No.”

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee or a hot chocolate.”

“No need. I have to go to Walmart.” She waved the paper on which Miss Karen had written the snow recipe. “I’m making snow.”

“You are? How cool is that.” Bobbie laughed and pointed at the sullen clouds overhead. “You might not need fake snow. Listen, it’s cold. Let me buy you a cup of coffee at the Coffee Barrel. I’ll bring you back to your buggy. I really want to talk to you about David. Please.”

How could she say no to a request so politely tendered? Swallowing against the heave of her stomach, Molly nodded and tightened her grip on the tiny drawstring bag that held her meager savings from jam and jelly sales. “But I’d like to buy the coffee.”

Bobbie jerked open the door of her huge, gleaming blue pickup truck. “We’ll negotiate that when we get there, how about that?”

Warm air filled the cab of the truck. It smelled of pine trees. A sad song about a guy driving his brother’s truck filled the air. Bobbie punched a button. The radio quieted. She put the truck in gear, glanced in the side mirror, and pulled out onto Corpus Christi Street.

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