The Red Hat Society's Domestic Goddess

by Regina Hale Sutherland

  As she hoped, mention of the class distracted Mitchell. “You really signed me up for this thing?”

  She nodded.

  “It better work,” Mitchell said, as he headed down the stairs to convince his brother to attend the classes.

  Millie watched his curly head disappear from view and silently agreed. It had better work. For him and Steven.

  With Steven, she had a family to reunite. With Mitchell, she had a tiara to retire.

  So where do we start?” Millie asked Kim as they waited for Theresa to join them in the community center kitchen.

  “Start what?”

  “To teach me how to teach a class.” But she had a feeling Kim was starting something else. Through narrowed eyes, Millie studied her friend. Kim’s face was flushed, nearly as pink as the fuchsia tracksuit she wore. Her brown eyes sparkled, and her breath came fast and hard. If Millie didn’t know better…

  “So just how close are you getting to your new neighbor?” she teased, as she settled onto a stool at the island. She pushed up the sleeves of her green knit shirt and propped her elbows on the granite counter, her jean-clad knees bumping against the white cupboard below it.

  Kim grabbed a water bottle from the stainless steel fridge, twisting off the cap and taking a swig before answering. “A wall away…”

  “And he’s got you this flustered.” Too bad he wasn’t able to attend their class. Millie would love to meet the guy who could fluster Kim, especially since Theresa swore he was really good looking.

  Kim shook her head. “It’s not him. It’s the cat—”

  “Your cat?”

  “His cat. I just dropped it on his doorstep, rang the bell and ran like—”

  “Kim!” Theresa exclaimed as she joined them in the kitchen. “You didn’t!”

  “I felt it was the neighborly thing to do, giving him a welcome gift.” She laughed. “I left it in your basket, Millie, with a bow on top.”

  Now Millie knew why she’d borrowed the picnic basket, and she wondered if she’d get it back. She might need it… someday… for a picnic. Once she retired her tiara, she’d have time for stuff like that.

  “I thought he worked second shift,” Millie said.

  Kim nodded. “But he has tonight off.”

  “So you know his schedule already?” Millie asked, trying to control a smile.

  Kim’s face flushed with bright color, totally matching her tracksuit now. “No… he mentioned it this afternoon… when he caught me coming back from a run. He just got done with a long shift and has the night off.”

  “So he’s probably sleeping, and you left the cat in a basket. What if he didn’t hear the bell?” Theresa asked, obviously concerned about the cat.

  Millie wasn’t so sure she wanted the basket back anymore.

  “Then he’ll hear the cat,” Kim said. “That thing loves to howl.”

  Theresa laughed. “Boy, Kim, I guess it has been a long time since you’ve flirted with a man. You’ve forgotten how it’s done.”

  “I’m not flirting,” Kim protested. “I’m getting rid of that fleabag.” But her hand trembled so much she could barely screw the cap back on her water bottle.

  Millie took it from her and completed the task. “Oh, no,” she said, catching herself. “I can’t stop myself from doing this.”

  “From doing everything for everybody else. From taking care of everybody else,” Theresa said, adding a sigh of her own.

  Millie nodded. “Steven doesn’t even make his bed. Heck, I don’t know how he gets to his bed. He just drops his clothes wherever he takes them off. Stairs. Family room floor. And I keep picking up after him.”

  She might have enjoyed his company the last couple of days if he hadn’t been so miserable, but she didn’t enjoy the additional work his living with her had brought her.

  “I think I need to attend a how-not-to-mother-your-children-for-the-rest-of-your-life class.”

  “Add husband to that title and sign me up,” Theresa agreed with a heavy sigh.

  “A lot of stinky socks today?” Kim asked.

  Theresa shook her head. “I didn’t even look. No, it was a Gunsmoke marathon today. The early shows, the black and white ones. That was all he did, watch them and snooze, wouldn’t even let me open the blinds in the family room. Can we start the class this week?”

  “We have to get the curriculum figured out first.” Kim, ever the teacher, reminded them of the reason they’d arranged to meet. She undoubtedly wanted to distract them from her new neighbor; it was obvious he distracted her enough.

  “We have to get the most important student enrolled,” Millie reminded them.

  “You couldn’t manipulate him?” Kim asked, obviously shocked. “Stubborn, huh? Wonder where he got that from…”

  Millie ignored the twinkling in her friend’s eyes. “Must have been his father.”

  “Men are the stubborn ones. They’re born stubborn,” Theresa backed up. “Kim’s an anomaly.”

  “Hey,” Kim said, lifting her hands, palms up. “Why are you bringing me into this?”

  “Why not?” Theresa quipped, her mouth quirking into a challenging smile.

  “Ladies,” Millie said. She was used to playing peacemaker between the two strong women.

  “Do you want to bring me into this?” Kim asked. “I could talk to Steven for you and try to convince him to join the class.”

  Millie considered the possibility a minute, amusement tickling her. “You might actually be able to intimidate him into doing it.”

  “Fearsome Kim,” Theresa agreed.

  “Dirty Harriet,” Millie shared her son’s nickname for her friend.

  Theresa’s laughter sputtered out with the sip of Sprite she’d just taken. “It’s perfect.”

  “Please,” Kim said, passing a strip of paper towel to Theresa. “Clean yourself up. You’re such a mess.” Then she laughed as she pointed out the pop stains on Theresa’s cream-colored silk blouse.

  Theresa stuck out her tongue but grabbed the paper towel. “So are you going to sic Kim and Harry on him?” she asked Millie, as she dabbed at the damp spots on the silk.

  “I already sicced his brother on him. But I’m not so sure that was a good—” Before she could finish the thought, the theme song from “Thoroughly Modern Millie” pealed out from her purse, which sat on the counter. She reached for it and fumbled inside for her cell phone. “Hello?”

  “Mom.”

  “Steven?” Her heart did a little hopeful flip.

  “Sign me up.”

  She held in the victory shout burning the back of her throat. “For what, dear?”

  “Cute. You know for what, this class you and your friends are starting.”

  She was tempted to ask if he meant Kim’s aerobics class, especially after all Mitchell’s teasing about his weight, but she didn’t want to push her luck—or her stubborn son—any further than he’d already been pushed. “Thanks, Steven. You won’t regret this.”

  “But Mitchell might. I’m going to kick his butt,” Steven promised.

  She smiled and teased, “So you’re going to turn into a regular Martha Stewart.”

  “Don’t push it,” he advised. “So where’d you put that casserole you made? We don’t know where to look.”

  “It’s being kept warm in the oven,” she said. After she hung up, she turned to her friends. “I hope he knows how to open it. Maybe that’ll be our first lesson.”

  “So I take it we have another student?” Theresa asked. She and Kim were waiting expectantly.

  “It’s on,” Millie said, expelling a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks to sibling rivalry.”

  “Lucky for you,” Kim said.

  “Well, if Mitchell had failed, I would have sicced Brigitte on him. I doubt he could have said no to her.”

  “Wally can never say no to his little girls either,” Theresa said with a smile.

  Millie wanted to point out that he never said no to her either. But Theresa wasn’t willing to see
Wally’s good points right now. So Millie focused on their sign-up sheet instead. “So that’s Mitchell, Steven, and all the guys our Red Hat chapterettes are going to coerce into joining.”

  Theresa patted Millie’s shoulder. “You did a great job pitching the course at lunch today.”

  Millie shrugged. “The pitch had nothing to do with it. Our chapterettes would help us no matter what.” The chapter was just as supportive as Theresa and Kim. She’d been relieved to learn that she wasn’t the only mother who’d raised domestically helpless sons.

  Millie returned her attention to the list of students on the clipboard on the counter in front of her. With satisfaction, she wrote down Steven’s name.

  “And don’t forget Wally,” Theresa added. “And Mr. Lindstrom.”

  “He’s on here.” Millie checked off the list, her pen shaking as it hovered above the name at the top, the first one who’d signed up.

  “Mr. Lindstrom?” Kim sighed. “I’ll have to wear Teflon pants.”

  “You forgot someone,” Theresa reminded her.

  “Who’s that?” Millie asked, playing dumb by widening her eyes in feigned innocence.

  “You’ve forgotten all about Charles Moelker and his stunning blue eyes?” Theresa teased.

  Millie regretted sharing too much with her friends. She never should have confessed her infatuation with blue-eyed men a few months ago during Movie Night, with The Thomas Crown Affair playing.

  Kim blew out a sigh full of pity. “They do say the memory is the first thing to go…”

  “The back, thanks to your aerobics class,” Millie grumbled as she shifted on the stool where she sat, wincing and hoping fervently that her friends would drop the subject of Charles’s eyes. “My memory is just fine. I remember we need to figure out how we’re teaching this class.”

  Millie glanced down at the list again, the names swimming before her blurring vision. She hadn’t counted on so many students. She pressed a hand against her fluttering heart, trying to settle her nerves.

  She’d been anxious at the thought of standing up in front of her sons and friends and attempting to teach them, but they would understand and support her if she stammered and stuttered and made a complete fool of herself. Even Charles Moelker had seen her do that before.

  But now there were strangers attending the class, more people who could watch her fall flat on her face.

  What had she been thinking?

  “You’re teaching. We’re going to just be there for support,” Theresa reminded her. Not helping at all. “After all, you are the domestic goddess.”

  Maybe if she found a tiara to wear to class, she might get up the nerve to open her mouth to give instructions. As it was right now, she had no confidence that she’d be able to pull this off… even with her friends’ help.

  Chapter Six

  “The phrase ‘domestic cat’ is an oxymoron.”

  —George F. Will

  Kim tightly clutched her keys and the small canister of pepper spray attached to them, as she passed under the flickering street lamp and started up the sidewalk toward her condo. Not that she was afraid of walking alone at night. But she believed in being prepared… for anything. Thus the pepper spray. Unless she wanted to scare someone. That was when she brought out Harry.

  She wasn’t prepared for the shift of shadows near her door and the man stepping out of the darkness. She just barely smothered the squeak rising in her throat as her heart raced. With a shaking hand, she lifted the pepper spray, but then she recognized him and realized that she would probably never be prepared for George Fowler.

  Even with her porch light shining on him, he was still in shadow, wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. His eyes, so dark, glittered in the faint light, as did the silver strands of his hair. Instead of settling with recognition, Kim’s heart pounded harder.

  George lifted his arms above his head. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Cute,” she said. And he was.

  But she was so beyond interested in cute. When she was young and stupid, she had almost married cute. Twice. But she’d come to her senses in time to avoid making huge mistakes. Really handsome men were spoiled, expecting all of a woman’s time and attention. Kim would never lose herself in a man like that. After two narrow escapes, she couldn’t be tempted… not even by George.

  “Out kind of late, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice deep with concern.

  The short hairs at the nape of her neck rose as irritation flickered. She wasn’t used to anyone questioning her comings and goings. “Funny, you don’t look like my father.”

  He chuckled. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

  Perversely, a little disappointment settled her irritation. So his concern wasn’t personal. “Is lurking around in the dark an occupational hazard, too?”

  “No,” he said, his teeth flashing white in a wide grin. “I thought I heard something earlier. I’ve been out here a while now, looking around, trying to figure out what it could have been.”

  “What did you hear?” Her ring of the doorbell? How could he not have recognized that sound?

  “I don’t know.” He brushed a hand through his short hair. “Sounded like a sick dog. Some awful howling…”

  She glanced the few yards from her door to his door where, beneath the hip roof of his porch, his yard light illuminated his cement stoop. His empty cement stoop.

  Where had the basket gone? Millie would probably not be happy if she didn’t return that basket. More importantly, where was the cat? If George been out here all that time, why hadn’t he found it? Was it scared of George? Had it run off? She could so identify with it.

  “So did you find anything?” she asked, resisting the urge to sink to her knees and call out for the cat.

  He shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t see a thing.”

  Not the basket?

  Not the pretty bow?

  Not the welcome-to-the-neighborhood note?

  Where had it all gone? And why did she care?

  “Well, it’s late,” she said, brushing past him as she pulled open her storm door. “See you…”

  “Around,” he said. “After all, we are neighbors.”

  Even though he’d only lived there a day, she wasn’t likely to forget it. The walls hadn’t seemed so thin when Mrs. Milanowski had lived next door. Kim had never heard the sputter of water when the shower started and stopped for her. She’d never felt the vibration of the rhythm of music she had played. Of course Mrs. Milanowski had been more into Lawrence Welk than Lynyrd Skynyrd. How would she handle three hundred sixty-five days of George?

  Kim shoved her key in the lock, turned it, then pushed open her door. As she did, something furry scurried from behind the bushes and brushed against her leg and… howled.

  George laughed. “The basket’s back there, too.”

  “Hey,” she protested, “it was a gift. You’re not supposed to return a gift.”

  “I had to return it. We don’t know each other well enough to exchange gifts,” George said, promise vibrating in his deep voice as he added, “yet.”

  Despite it being spring, the night air must have chilled because goose bumps rose on Kim’s bare arms. He didn’t mean anything by that, she was sure. And it didn’t matter if he did because she wasn’t interested.

  She glanced down at the gray tiger cat. Its glowing eyes stared up at her, then one eye flickered shut as if it was winking at her.

  The plastic bowl slipped in Millie’s damp palms, so she had to adjust her hold on it. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t the walking alone at night. She’d insisted to both Kim and Theresa that she’d be fine getting herself home, except that she hadn’t gone straight home.

  She’d stopped here first, outside Charles’ unit. There were only two in his building, each with a three-stall garage, arched windows, and cathedral ceilings. Even though it was only a street over from theirs, Kim called this area the swanky part of Hilltop. Remembering what she and Bruce had paid for their small unit, Millie had
laughed off her comment. No part of Hilltop was exactly low-rent.

  The wind rustled through the trees and shrubs, casting shadows between Millie and the glow of the street-lamp. But it wasn’t the shadows outside making her nervous; it was the shadows she glimpsed behind the drapes in Charles’s front window.

  Two of them.

  He wasn’t alone.

  And it wasn’t his dog standing close to him in his living room. Or a man.

  The silhouette behind the drapes, framed by the arched window, reminded Millie of the paper dolls she’d played with as a little girl. Part of the reason was its seeming two-dimensional; the other was that it had the curvy lines that mimicked Barbie doll’s impossible figure.

  Charles’s visitor was definitely female, in as great physical shape as Kim. It might have been Millie’s athletic friend but for the long hair flowing around the woman’s shoulders. So who was it, and why did Millie need to know so badly?

  Not badly enough, however, to walk up to the door and ring the bell. Instead she ducked behind the bushes separating the driveways of the two units, then peered between the holes in the foliage.

  Now she considered what it meant that Charles lived in the “swanky” area. He had money. So not only was he a bachelor; he was a very eligible one. That meant nothing to Millie. But she knew it would matter to some women. Undoubtedly hers weren’t the only casseroles he’d received. Was that what his visitor was doing, dropping off a casserole?

  The pie container slipped again. Millie’s fingers caught the lid—the only reason she didn’t drop it behind the shrubs. She didn’t care what those other women’s motives were; hers were pure. She was only dropping off a pie.

  Okay, maybe she’d been about to attempt a little more flirting. She wouldn’t mind getting to know Charles better.

  But if he already had somebody in his life…

  She should walk up to the door, just knock and find out. So why was she hiding instead? This was so unlike her, skulking in the shadows, spying. It was more up Kim’s alley; she was the one who had to know everything that happened in the complex. Not to spread rumors like Mrs. Ryers, but to make sure nothing “funny” was going on.