“Ready to go, squirt?” Steven interrupted to ask his daughter.
“You’re taking her home again?” Millie asked, trying to control the smile teasing her lips.
Steven didn’t fight his; it lit up his eyes, which until recently had been so sad all the time. Despite the smile, he cautioned her. “Mom…”
“I know, I know, I’ll back off,” she said.
“That’d be a first.” But he leaned over to kiss her cheek, then led Brigitte toward where he’d parked in the community center lot.
Before the wind could dry Millie’s cheek, Mitchell pressed a kiss to her other one.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“Thanks.” He didn’t tell her why he expressed his gratitude; he just took Victoria’s hand in his as the two of them walked away.
Millie blinked hard, fighting the tears springing to her eyes. Her sons were happier. That was all she’d wanted.
“Are you okay?” Charles asked, as he pressed a handkerchief into her hand.
She nodded. “Yes, better than okay.”
“That’s why you’re almost crying?” he asked, clearly perplexed. He wore that trying-to-find-the-pieces-to-a-jigsaw-puzzle expression again.
She laughed. “I’m okay, really. It just occurred to me that the bachelor survival course is just about over.”
“Really?” he asked, his bright eyes dimming with disappointment. “I can’t remember how many weeks it was supposed to run.”
“Just until my sons didn’t need me anymore. And I think that’s about now.”
“Millie,” Charles said sympathetically, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t ever think that. They’re always going to need you.”
“Oh, I hope not,” she said, her voice just about a breathless whisper, not from what she was saying but from being so close to Charles. His arm was heavy across her shoulders, his body hard against hers.
“I don’t understand.”
“The purpose of the class was so they’d learn to take care of themselves, so that they wouldn’t need me,” she said, sharing her ulterior motive with him. She needed to tell him the rest, too, about her plan to retire and spend more time traveling and having fun.
Before she could broach the subject, he shook his head in confusion. “I thought it was to get Steven back together with his wife.”
“That, too. I’d hoped it would work.” And she wanted to believe it had, but Steven was still living in her basement.
“It is working, Millie,” Charles insisted.
She bit her lip as the tears pooled again, then nodded. She couldn’t share her plan with him now, not when she wasn’t sure this was what she wanted anymore.
“Then what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice deepening with concern.
“They won’t need me anymore,” she nearly wailed, as her heart contracted painfully. “I know it doesn’t make sense, that I wanted this, but I’m so used to them needing me… that…”
She felt a little lost and never more alone, except that she wasn’t alone. Although everyone else had left, Charles was with her on the deck, in such a beautiful setting. Just the two of them. She turned toward him, then reached up to pull his bearded face down to hers. And she kissed him.
Astonished at her own action, she pulled away. But Charles delved his fingers into her curls and kissed her back, his beard soft against her face, his lips hard and passionate. Millie’s breath caught in her lungs, and her heart pounded madly.
Finally Charles slid his mouth from hers, breathing hard. “Wow.”
“Ummm,” Millie murmured, beyond coherent conversation.
“You kissed me,” he said, stunned.
“I had to,” she said, “you were never going to do it.”
“Hey, I’ve been trying…”
“Yes, you have,” she agreed, letting the silly grin spread across her face. She didn’t care; she was too giddy.
“Hey,” he protested, then added, “so let me try again.” And he kissed her again. “See…” he murmured against her lips.
Laughing, Millie pulled away. “You’re getting better.”
“I have to impress my teacher,” he said, grinning. “She always says practice makes perfect.”
“Does she?”
“So you want to go somewhere and practice?” he asked, suggestively wriggling his eyebrows.
Millie giggled now, surprised she could make such a girlish sound. She hadn’t been a girl in a long time. But Charles made her feel like one; he made her feel like she had when she’d first fallen in love.
So full of hope.
“Ah, Millie,” he said with a sigh. “Your sons might not need you as much as they did. But I think I’m starting to need you…”
Was that why she was falling for him? Because she wanted to be needed? She’d wanted her sons to be independent, but did she really want to retire her tiara? Did she really want for no one to need her?
Before she could go any further with Charles, she had to figure out exactly what she wanted.
Chapter Eighteen
“At worst, a house unkept cannot be so distressing as a life unlived.”
—Rose Macaulay
Tonight the community center kitchen was more crowded than usual for class, even since the additional students had joined. Standing against the wall of sliders behind the workstations were spectators—some relatives like Audrey, and a camera crew.
“What’s the deal?” Kim asked as she joined Millie and Theresa at the counter.
“I don’t know,” Theresa said with a shrug.
Millie’s nerves jangled. She’d only just gotten comfortable teaching in front of her growing class. She didn’t need the added pressure of the camera crew. “This must be a mistake,” she insisted.
But the local news reporter, a gorgeous redheaded girl who did the special features, or as some called them, the fluff pieces, was talking to Mr. Lindstrom. She kissed his cheek before walking up to the island. “Hi,” she said, “I’m Candi Brewer from Channel 7. My grandpa told me about this class.”
“Mr. Lindstrom?” Kim asked.
Candi nodded. “Yes, he’s a sweetheart.”
“A real sweetheart,” Kim ruefully agreed, rubbing her hip.
A man in his forties with thinning hair like Steven’s walked up behind Candi, reaching his hand across the counter. “I’m James Stehouwer,” he said, “producer for Channel 7. Hope you don’t mind us crashing your class, but it sounded like a great segment for tomorrow’s noon broadcast.”
Millie glanced toward her friends, hoping for their support in turning down the coverage. But they both shook their heads. “It’s no problem,” Theresa said.
“Sounds like fun,” Kim added.
Millie couldn’t say anything as her nerves choked her, rendering her speechless. She couldn’t even shake the man’s hand; hers was trembling too much.
“So which one of you is the Domestic Goddess?” Stehouwer asked.
“Domestic Goddess?” Millie sputtered, finally finding her voice.
“Grandpa told me one of you is called that,” Candi said, explaining how they knew the title.
“How high does he turn up that hearing aid?” Kim wondered aloud, casting a glance his way. He grinned at her, a wide, dentured grin.
“Millie’s the domestic goddess,” Theresa volunteered. “She’s the true expert.”
Millie shook her head. “That’s really not the case at all,” she argued.
“It’s her Red Hat name,” Kim added. “We all consider her the goddess.”
James grinned. “A Red Hatter? Can you wear the hat during the segment? We’d love that.”
“So would she,” Kim spoke for her, erroneously. “I’ll go get it from her condo.”
Millie resisted the urge to shout “Traitor!” after her as Kim rushed out. She really wished she had hid her house key in another spot; Kim knew where she kept it, above the trim around the garage door.
“I don’t think this class
will be exciting enough for your program,” she said, hoping they’d change their minds about taping it. “We’re just doing some cooking, nothing newsworthy.” Unless she passed out from nerves during the class, but that would be hardly newsworthy either.
“We’re cooking our favorite desserts,” Theresa interjected. “These are recipes from The Red Hat Society Cookbook.” She handed them a photocopy of each recipe. “My favorite, Chocolate Angel Pie. The blonde Amazon who ran out to get Millie’s red hat loves this one, Dream-sicle Cake. And this one is Millie’s favorite—”
“Theresa,” Millie interrupted, trying to discourage her friend’s helpfulness. “We need these for the students.” She grabbed up the stack of copies and headed out to the individual workstations.
But no one worked individually. Victoria worked with Mitchell, Brigitte with her dad, and usually Charles and Wally teamed up.
“What’s with the cameras?” Wally asked her.
Millie tried to settle the nerves swimming in her stomach, unsure if they were caused by the presence of the television crew or Charles. She hadn’t talked to him since that kiss on the deck. She hadn’t entirely made up her mind yet about why she was falling for him. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was. And falling hard.
“They’re taping us for the noon news tomorrow,” Theresa told her husband, as she rushed up behind Millie, excitement flushing her face and brightening her eyes.
“Are you okay with this?” Charles asked Millie, his voice low so only she could hear.
“Nervous,” she admitted, pressing a palm against her quivering stomach. She’d worn a purple knit shirt and skirt, which was fortunate since it would go with her red hat.
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t be nervous. You’re a wonderful teacher. You’ll do a great job. Just forget that the cameras are here.”
She quickly dragged in a shaky breath. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“No, it’ll be easy for you. Just focus,” he said, touching her chin so that she looked up and into his amazing blue eyes, “on me.”
Now her stomach flipped as her nerves increased tenfold. The last thing she needed to focus on was Charles and her growing feelings for him. She’d only get more flustered, and probably flush with embarrassment so that she was as red as her hat, and blotchy, too. Fainting from nerves would be the easy way out.
“That’s a bad idea,” she told him but with a smile, so that he wasn’t hurt.
He grinned. “Too distracting?”
She vehemently nodded. “You’ll have me burning my pie. But that might be a good thing. No one will call me a domestic goddess then.”
“You’ll always be a goddess to me,” he said, outrageously flirting.
Flustered and flushing, Millie slapped the recipes down on his workstation and quickly walked away. The man was way too distracting.
“Don’t worry,” Mitchell told her, as she handed the papers to him and Victoria, “we’ll behave. No one will embarrass you on national television.”
“Local,” she corrected him, as her stomach flipped again with those unrelenting nerves.
Mitchell shook his head. “Just for now. But you’ll be such a hit that they’ll syndicate you.”
“Yeah, right…”
Every student said something to that effect, bolstering her ego and increasing the pressure. By the time she’d passed out all the copies, her nerves were so unsettled that she had to swallow them down. And waiting at the island was her red hat, but someone had adorned it… with a glittering tiara.
“Cute,” she told Kim, shooting her a mock-ferocious glare.
Kim laughed. “Yes, you are,” she agreed. “The camera will love you.”
“Where’s your red hat?” Millie asked, then turned toward Theresa. “And yours?”
They shook their heads. “We’re sitting this lesson out.”
As if she hadn’t been nervous enough. “No.”
“It’s your show,” Kim insisted. “It’s always been your show.”
“It was your idea,” Theresa reminded her. “Your inspiration. And you’ve inspired all these students. You deserve the limelight to yourself.”
“But I don’t want it,” Millie whispered furiously, resisting the urge to wail like Lucille Ball on any episode of I Love Lucy. Who loved Millie? How could her friends desert her like this when they’d always been there for each other?
“You’re going to do a wonderful job,” Theresa assured Millie as she and Kim smiled and backed away, leaving Millie alone… in the front of the class with the cameras facing her.
All she had for reinforcement was her red hat. For a second she thought about taking the tiara off it. But it said so much about who she was: the Domestic Goddess.
So she put on her hat and turned toward her class. “This is going to be our most delicious lesson yet,” she enthused, surprised that her voice held not even the faintest quaver of nerves. But then she realized her nerves were gone. Maybe it was the red hat and tiara; maybe it was the quick wink Charles sent her. Either way, she knew she was going to be just fine.
“Let’s start with my personal favorite,” she said, “Brown Bag Apple Pie. That’s right—you heard me. Brown bag. That’s not at your workstation for packing up leftovers. We need that to bake this delicious cinnamon apple pie. Everyone pick up your recipe.”
First they tackled the pie crust, then set about peeling, coring, and slicing the apples. Some students nicked their fingers. Mitchell still wielded his knife with more flash than finesse. Millie, ever the mother, passed out Band-Aids like she’d earlier passed out the recipes.
Then she resumed the lesson without missing a beat. “We’ll put your pies in to bake, but first double bag yours. These new bags are thin. This keeps your crust from drying out or burning.” That advice was in the recipe as well, courtesy of Princess Knit Wit from the Flashy Sassies Red Hat Society chapter in Motrose, Colorado.
Millie loved using The Red Hat Society Cookbook because she felt even more connected to her Red Hat sisters. Because of that connection and their long friendship, she couldn’t stay angry with Theresa and Kim. They moved through the students, helping out behind the camera.
The scent of cinnamon and apples already filled the kitchen, as Millie, Kim, and Theresa had prepared pies and put them in the ovens before class began. She pulled out the baked pies, carefully maneuvering them out of their bags. “And this is what yours will look like. When they’ve cooled a little bit, we’ll taste them.”
Then she moved on to Kim’s favorite dessert, a light and airy Dreamsicle cake. And Theresa, who shared Millie’s love of chocolate, loved the Chocolate Angel Pie. Theresa’s pie had been prepared before class, too, so that it could set up in the refrigerator. Kim’s cake didn’t take as long as the apple pie to bake, so they moved onto that.
“This is a long class,” she cautioned. “If anyone would like to leave now…”
“Not until we eat,” someone called out. “I’m not missing out on these desserts.”
Millie turned toward the news crew, expecting them to be putting their equipment away. But the cameras were still trained on her; she’d forgotten about them. As she immersed herself in the lessons, she forgot about them again.
When everyone was eating the pre-baked desserts, the producer walked up, wiping cinnamon apple pie juice from his lips. “You really are a domestic goddess,” he said.
“These aren’t my recipes,” she reminded him. “I’ve taken these from The Red Hat Society Cookbook. These women created the recipes, I’ve only copied them.”
“You’ve done more than that. You taught other people how to follow the recipe without making a mess of them,” he said, clearly impressed. “You’re a natural. We used to do a cooking segment at noon.”
“I remember,” she said. “Chef Sheldon. What happened to him?”
“Heart attack.”
Millie gasped.
“He’s all right,” he assured her. “He’s just not doing much cook
ing these days. He’s only eating rabbit food.”
“Well, that sounds healthy,” she said.
“And unexciting. You’re exciting. I love the hat. I love the whole package.”
Charles came up behind the producer, his attention riveted on them. Millie didn’t care if James Stehouwer loved the whole package; she wanted to know if Charles did.
But the other man wasn’t done talking yet. “I’d like you to replace Chef Sheldon,” he told her. “The domestic goddess could give a quick lesson every noon broadcast.”
“Every day?” Millie asked, then shook her head, nearly dislodging her hat. “I don’t know… that sounds like a full-time job.”
“Is it that you haven’t worked before?”
“Oh, I’ve worked.” Far harder than if she’d held a nine-to-five job. “But my intention is to retire.”
“You’re not going to continue your class?”
“This was a one-shot deal, for these students.”
“So when the class is over, you’ll have time to do a segment for the news,” the producer said, as if arranging Millie’s life were part of his producing duties.
She shook her head. “My plan is to travel, take a cruise, take it easy. I’m not looking for a job, Mr. Stehouwer, but I’m flattered by the offer.”
The man’s face fell, his jaw tautening with frustration. “I hope you change your mind. You’d be perfect for our station.”
Millie hoped to be perfect for someone else. But Charles wasn’t standing nearby anymore. He’d gone back to his workstation. When Millie caught his attention, he didn’t wink. His blue eyes were flat with disappointment. She couldn’t believe he was upset that she hadn’t taken the job; he was upset to learn about her plans.
Because she hadn’t told him, or because he didn’t want to travel with her?
Millie walked through her garage carrying her red hat. Because her attention was focused on the glittering tiara, she almost missed that Steven’s trunk gaped open. She flashed back over a month ago, to the first time she’d found his car in her garage with the trunk open.
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