That had started everything: Her resolve to make him and Mitchell more independent. The class. Her falling for Charles. Or had she started that before then? When she thought his wife had died.
It didn’t matter now, not after the way he’d looked at her… without the wink… like he didn’t even know her. And he hadn’t. Because she hadn’t let him. She hadn’t shared her plans with him, and she should have.
“Hey, Mom,” Steven said, as he stepped into the garage with an armload of boxes. “Why so sad? I thought you’d be thrilled when I moved out.”
“As long as you’re moving back home,” she qualified, scarcely daring to hope.
Audrey and Brigitte came out of the house behind him, carrying bags. “Yes, he is,” Audrey said, “moving back where he belongs.”
“I belong there,” Steven agreed, “now that I appreciate how hard my wife works.” He leaned around the boxes and pressed a kiss against the side of her head. “And I’m determined to help her.”
“Me, too,” Brigitte said. “I can do a lot now, too. We’ll be a team.”
“Team Truman!” Steven shouted, as he dumped the boxes into his trunk. Then he wrapped an arm around each of his girls.
Millie blinked hard, clearing tears from her eyes.
“Mom, are you all right?” Steven asked, letting go of his girls to put his hands on her shoulders.
“I’m happy,” she said. “I hoped for this for you.”
“You did more than hope,” Brigitte said, “you made it happen, just like you promised.” Her granddaughter wrapped her arms around Millie, squeezing tight. “Thank you so much!”
Audrey stepped close, too, pressing a kiss against Millie’s cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
Millie had to blink hard again but still she couldn’t stop one tear from slipping free and rolling down her cheek. “Don’t thank me. You all worked hard. And I’m sure if I hadn’t interfered, you would have gotten back together.”
“Maybe,” Audrey agreed. “But it wouldn’t have happened this quickly or this completely. We’re closer now than ever, more of a partnership than just a marriage.” She blinked back some tears of her own, obviously emotional over the reconciliation. Then she smiled. “I can’t wait for Steven’s cooking.”
“Or mine,” Brigitte reminded her mom. “I can cook, too. But there’s still a lot I want to learn. Grandma, you’re going to keep the class going?”
Millie glanced toward Steven’s open trunk, nearly full now with his belongings. Her intention had been to end the class when he went home. “I hadn’t planned on it…”
She’d planned so much other stuff. Not in any great detail, though. She didn’t have itineraries prepared or a cruise booked. Like Audrey, she hadn’t expected her boys to learn so much so quickly. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to retire this soon. Now she wasn’t entirely certain that she really wanted to.
“You should think about it, Mom,” Steven advised. “It wouldn’t have to meet as often, but I feel like I could learn a lot more, too.”
Millie nodded in agreement. “I’m sure you could.” But it wasn’t entirely his fault, as her old guilt resurfaced. “There’s so much I should have taught you long ago.”
Then his family never would have hit that rough patch, but maybe that wasn’t an entirely bad thing. Because of that, they could appreciate what they had now.
“I could have taught him, too,” Audrey said, “but I thought I could do it alone.”
“You shouldn’t have had to,” Steven told her, putting his arm around her shoulders again. He couldn’t stop touching her, his dark eyes soft with love as he gazed down at his pretty blond wife.
She smiled up at him, her face glowing. “That’s in the past. Things are going to be so much better now.”
“Perfect,” Steven agreed.
Brigitte caught Millie’s gaze, then rolled her eyes. “Grandma, I think I’m going to be spending a lot of time at your house. Or they might make me sick.”
Steven laughed. “Smart aleck.”
His daughter was a smart girl; she probably knew how empty Millie’s house would seem without Steven. When they all left, Millie sat alone at the counter in her kitchen, listening to the silence.
No television blared. No phone rang. She’d once thought she’d wanted this silence. Now she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted.
Chapter Nineteen
“Many husbands today pitch in to help with household chores—it’s called partnership.”
—Dear Abby
Kim waited until she heard the car pull into the garage next to hers, then she slipped out of her door. She was dressed for a run in a white tank top and silky blue running shorts. Sometimes she did run at night, if she couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t been sleeping a lot lately because of her handsome neighbor—not because he’d been over but because he hadn’t. Ever since the night he’d taken her and the cat to the vet, he hadn’t been back.
She extended her leg and bent over, stretching. Muscles protested, hurting most in the area where Mr. Lindstrom had got her with the grilling fork. A little groan slipped unbidden through her lips.
“Are you okay?” George asked as he stepped out of his garage. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him in his navy blue uniform.
“Just getting old,” she said, her tone flippant, but it did matter to her. She was older than he was; maybe that was why he hadn’t been around lately. She couldn’t give him everything he might want.
He laughed heartily at her remark. “Impossible. You’ll be forever young.”
She shook her head slowly, horrified. “God forbid. I wouldn’t want that.”
“I thought that’s what every woman wants,” he said. “Eternal youth.”
“I’d prefer to be a little older and a lot wiser.” And if she were, she had no business waiting for him to come home to ambush him in his driveway.
“That makes a lot of sense,” he agreed with a heartfelt sigh.
“At least something does,” she said, as she straightened up.
“Something wrong?”
“You tell me.”
“What?” he asked, but she had a feeling his innocence was feigned… because something sparkled in his eyes, either amusement or vindication.
She struggled with frustration; she hated playing games and hadn’t thought he’d be the type to enjoy them either, not after his divorce. “You haven’t been around lately.”
“I’ve been around,” he insisted. “I live just a wall away.”
“You haven’t stopped by.” Hating how needy she sounded, she added, “to check on the cat.”
“How is the little mama doing?” he asked.
“Whiny and needy,” she said, like George made her feel. The frustration nagging at her now was with herself.
He chuckled. “I know you hate that,” he said, as if he knew how he made her feel.
Maybe he did. “Is that why you haven’t been around?” she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders, which looked especially broad in his uniform. Kim’s pulse quickened, as if she’d begun her run. “Like I said, I live just a wall away. I figured you were wise enough to know where to find me if you wanted to,” he said.
“Playing hard to get?” she asked.
His mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. “Maybe bowing to the competition.”
“Competition?”
“Mr. Lindstrom. You seem more willing to let him touch you.”
“With a shopping cart and a grill fork?” she asked. “I don’t think so.”
“A grill fork?” George asked with a laugh. “The old man’s kinky, huh?”
“The old man doesn’t stand a chance,” she told him.
“Against Harry?”
She stepped close to him, sliding her fingers across the shiny badge on his chest. “Against you.”
“That’s right,” he said, sighing raggedly, as her fingers skimmed across his chest. “You don’t need Harry anymore. You have me.”
“Do I
?”
He nodded.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her doubts returning. “I can’t give you everything you might want.”
“What?” he asked, his forehead creasing in confusion. “What can’t you give me?”
“Well, let me put it this way,” she said, “my clock’s not ticking anymore. It’s broken.”
“I have my son. I don’t want any more children,” he insisted, his dark eyes wide with surprise at her confession. “I want a companion, someone who challenges and infuriates and fascinates me.”
Kim swallowed hard, as her heart rose to her throat. He was looking at her so intently.
“That’s you,” he told her. “That’s how I feel. How do you feel?”
She stared up into his eyes, letting him see her vulnerability in a way she’d let no one else. “I don’t want to run,” she said.
His eyes narrowed for a moment before understanding dawned and his smile widened. “You’re going to let me catch you?”
“Or chase you down,” she said as if accepting a challenge, “if you make me.”
“I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he assured her, as he looped his arms around her waist. “That’s why I stopped coming around.”
“You wanted me to come to you?” she guessed.
“I didn’t want to pressure you. I wanted you to make your own decision about us,” he admitted.
“I have. I’ve decided you talk too much,” she told him as she leaned close, pressing her lips against his. Her pulse raced harder and faster than if she’d taken the night run for which she’d dressed.
He kissed her back, with heat and passion, sliding his mouth across hers. Then he pulled away. “I have to say one more thing,” he insisted, almost panting for breath.
She sighed, as if seeking patience with his long-windedness. “Go ahead,” she said, long-suffering.
“I love you.”
Her chest shuddered as her heart shifted. But that declaration didn’t frighten her as it might have in the past. She trusted George. “I love you, too.”
After another kiss, this one a long one, she reminded him, “This means you’re going to be a grandpa.”
“What?”
“To the litter of kittens.”
He chuckled. “I can’t wait for my son to meet you. He’ll love you as much as I do.”
Kim would make sure that he did, by showing him how much she loved his father.
“Oh,” George said, as if something momentous had just occurred to him.
“What?”
“We’re going to break his heart.”
She didn’t think he was still talking about his son, since she had yet to meet him. “Whose heart?”
“Mr. Lindstrom’s.”
Kim sighed. “You’re right. I feel so bad. Maybe we can’t do this.”
But George’s strong arms resisted her effort to pull away. Then he picked her up. “You’re not going any where. Mr. Lindstrom’s going to have to find his own girl. You’re mine.”
Once that possessiveness would have bothered Kim, would have had her running. But when George said it, it warmed her heart and excited her. And expressed how she felt about him. “And you’re mine.”
Theresa drew open the blinds in the family room, bathing it in light. Just a little over a month ago, Wally would have protested, grumping and groaning from his battered leather recliner in the corner of the room. But his chair sat empty today. He’d left early in the morning for a breakfast meeting with an old client.
Wally wasn’t old or defeated anymore. He was the man she’d fallen in love with so many years ago. While happiness lifted her heart, it was still a bit heavy… with loneliness. She was thrilled that he’d recovered his purpose in life, but she wished he could have found it with her.
Now she was the one looking for the television remote. Of course she wanted to record the news at noon; they were going to be showing the segment they’d shot at the community center. But she couldn’t find the remote lying in his recliner or on the glass-topped coffee table. So she opened the espresso-colored entertainment unit, but the armoire was empty. No television sat inside, as it always had.
“Where did it go?” she wondered aloud, worried that they’d been robbed. But the patio doors, through which the sun poured, were unbroken. How had a robber gotten inside? If she and Wally weren’t home, they engaged the security system.
“What?” Wally asked, as he descended the stairs to the family room.
She gestured toward the empty armoire, but her focus was on him. He looked handsome in his dark suit, his green eyes bright with excitement. Her pulse skittered with a little excitement of her own, then she remembered his question.
“The television’s missing. I think we’ve been robbed,” she said, a feeling of being violated building. She hated the idea that a stranger might have been in their home.
“We haven’t been robbed,” he assured her. “I know where it is.”
“Where? The repair shop?” She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d worn it out during those months of inactivity after his retirement.
“No, it’s not broken,” he told her as he stripped off his suit jacket and loosened his green silk tie. Instead of dropping the jacket on the floor, he draped it over the back of his recliner.
“Did you give our TV away?” she asked.
“I thought about that,” he admitted. “But I kept it. We’ll watch Millie on the news later. It’s set to record.”
“Where is it?” Theresa asked again.
“In the storage room.” Which was just off the family room. “Along with all the other stuff we only use occasionally.”
“We’re only going to use our television occasionally?” she asked, shocked.
He nodded vehemently. “Of course. We have better things to do.”
He did. She wasn’t so sure about herself anymore. She’d had a breakfast meeting, too, with Millie and Kim. The domestic goddess was sticking to her plans… with some modifications.
“Such as?” she asked him.
He stepped closer and took her hand. “How about we go for a walk?”
“A walk?”
“Like we used to. I’d walk you home from a date and steal a kiss on your parents’ front porch.”
Feeling a little giddy, Theresa nodded. “I’d love to take a walk with you.”
They ducked out their patio doors, walking around the grounds rather than the streets of Hilltop. The complex was delightfully landscaped, with glorious gardens and small ponds where goldfish swam in the sun-kissed water.
As they walked, the years and the children and grandchildren, all of it fell away. They were two teenagers again, crazy in love, their hands trembling as they held each other’s.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said.
“Walking?” she asked, shaking her head, then leaning close enough to brush her face against his shoulder. “I don’t mind at all. In fact I love it.”
“Good,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But that wasn’t what I was referring to.”
“You’re talking about missing Millie’s debut?” she asked. “You taped it. We can watch it later.” She wouldn’t miss a minute of this time with Wally, not even for her friends.
“Yes, we will,” he agreed, “but what I hope you don’t mind is that I’ll still be around the house a lot. I’m limiting my hours at the office and on the golf course. I’d rather be with you,” he told her as they neared the patio where they’d begun their walk. Flowers hung from the deck above; impatiens in hot pink, deep red, and pristine white streamed down.
Theresa’s heart softened, moved by his confession. “Oh, Wally…”
“That’s why I put the TV away. I’d rather watch you than it. You’re so beautiful, even more so than the day I met you,” he said, cupping her cheek. Then he stole a kiss, just like he had so many years ago.
And like so many years ago, he stole Theresa’s heart. Again.
“I love you,
Wally. I’ll love spending every minute I can with you,” she promised him, as she wrapped her arms tight around her husband, ready to hold on for the rest of their lives.
Millie glanced at her hair once in the rearview mirror before sliding out of the driver’s seat in the garage. She’d had her beautician touch up the cinnamon color. It was probably a good thing she’d worn the red hat for the taping even with the tiara. It had hidden the gray showing at her roots. But the gray was gone now.
As were the helpless men who’d brought it on. Mitchell was getting serious about Victoria; he looked at her the way his father had looked at Millie so many years ago. And Steven was home where he belonged.
Millie grabbed her purse and gathered up the big manila folder lying on the passenger seat. She’d made a stop after the beauty parlor at a travel agency. She’d booked that cruise she’d promised herself as a retirement reward. Giving in to her eternally optimistic nature, she’d bought two tickets. If Charles didn’t want to use one, she could always ask Mr. Lindstrom; with Kim serious about her neighbor, he would need a consolation prize.
But Millie didn’t want to be anyone’s consolation prize, almost as much as she didn’t want to be anyone’s maid. She would make Charles a pie, though, and bring that over to his place with the tickets. Hopefully the pie would mellow him out enough to listen to her proposal.
Not a marriage proposal, but a traveling proposal.
The scent of cinnamon and apple wafted out of the house. Someone was already baking.
She considered reaching for the feather duster that stood handle up in a milk crate next to the back door. But she doubted she needed it to fend off a robber; it wasn’t likely anyone had broken into her house to bake.
“Hello?” she called out, expecting Steven, or maybe Mitchell, although she hadn’t seen their cars.
“Brigitte?” Her dad could have dropped her off.
“Don’t be disappointed,” a deep voice called back, “it’s just me.”
“Charles?” She walked into her kitchen slowly, as if walking into a strange house and not her own home. It was almost as if she didn’t know where she was. Since Steven had moved out, she’d grown used to her house being quiet and empty again.
The Red Hat Society's Domestic Goddess Page 19