by Lisa Scott
She unwrapped the frozen crusts and then stirred up the ingredients for the filling: cream of mushroom soup, peas, carrots and onions. Yuck, then she had to cut up the chicken. She plopped the meat out of its Styrofoam container onto the counter, trying her best not to gag at the site of raw meat. She pulled a big knife out of the butcher block and cut the chicken into small chunks and sautéed them.
Once she had the two potpies in the oven, she got to work on the apple pie. Luckily, Jeremy had two ovens. Was that why? One for dinner, one for dessert? Oh, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be cooking much once they were married, but it was important he knew that she could in a pinch.
She grabbed the knife again, and sliced up the apples. She didn’t care so much what the apples inside the pie looked like. She cut the apples into bits and chunks and then cut a few pretty slices to garnish the top when the pie was out. She actually enjoyed the process of combining the ingredients, knowing she’d be creating something beautiful and delicious in the end. Maybe she would cook occasionally once they were married. Just for fun. She slid the pies in the oven, and soon the smells of the chicken potpie and the apples and cinnamon mingled in the apartment, which would certainly lure Jeremy into the kitchen.
“Smells good,” Shawna said, walking in.
“I’m good at many things, you know. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Shawna squatted down and peered in the oven. “That’ll be a first. I’ve never had your cooking before.”
She ignored Shawna. Whatever little crush Jeremy had on his nanny wouldn’t last long. Veronica was setting the stage for him to tumble into her arms. A good meal would help the cause. “I’ll go call the kids for dinner.”
Soon, the children, Jeremy, and Shaw were seated at the table. Veronica set out the chicken potpies on the table. “We’re having pie for dinner?” Maddie asked. “That can’t be good for us.”
Never liked that one. Well, there’s always boarding school. Seven is too many, anyway. “Darling, this is good old fashioned cooking. It’s got chicken and vegetables. You’re going to love it.”
After shooing away the dog and the ferret lurking under the table—she’d have to get the number for the SPCA once she moved in—Veronica dished out a serving for everyone, and while the kids pushed around the peas and stabbed a carrot or two, Shawna shrugged and took a big bite. She chewed a bit then nodded. “Not bad. I’m impressed.”
Veronica smiled at Jeremy. “I haven’t had the chance to do cooking like this for a family.”
Shawna pointed her fork at her. “Right, because we had a chef when you were married to my dad. You were very good at ordering out, though.”
Veronica gripped the edge of the table. “Circumstances were different then. And your father liked ordering out.”
“He was hardly ever home for dinner.”
Veronica took a deep breath. “Well, I think my maternal instincts are finally kicking in. Maybe it just required the right child,” she said through a tight smile.
“Maybe it’s because you were so young back then.”
Veronica stood up, smoothing down her dress. “Who wants apple pie?”
She sliced up enough servings for everyone, and gave the first one to Shaw. “You like apple, don’t you?”
Shaw grabbed the plate and stared at her. “I do.”
The kids poked at their pie, picking off the fresh slices on top that had gone brown since she’d cut them, but Shaw ate the whole thing.
The kids pushed away from the table. “Can we be excused?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, but thank Veronica for a nice meal,” Jeremy said.
“Thank you,” they said together in a way that did not sound grateful at all.
“I’ll get them started on baths. You’ve all got school tomorrow,” Shaw said.
“Aww!” they protested, as they followed her out of the room.
Good. Time for the kill. Veronica looked at Jeremy. “No pie for you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Or did you want something else for dessert, perhaps?”
“No, no. I’m full. It was good.”
Oh, he’s so thick. She shrugged. “I’m multi-talented. In the kitchen, and other rooms in the house.” She placed her hand on his knee.
He removed it and cleared his throat. “About that. Veronica, I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression. I’ve been too shocked with grief to really see what’s going on around me. I thought you were here just as a friend to Dina, but I’m sensing you were hoping for something more?”
Despite the sinking feeling in her stomach, she smiled at him. “I did come here as a friend. But I’ve developed feelings for you, Jeremy. We’d make a wonderful team, and I love your children.” Clearly, we’d need to get a new nanny…
He sighed. “I hope I didn’t mislead you in any way. I just don’t feel that way about you, Veronica. I hope we can still be friends.”
She crossed her arms in a huff. “It’s Shawna, isn’t it?”
“I do have feelings for her. But you and I just weren’t meant to be.”
We’ll just see about that. “You’re still raw from Dina’s death. Give it some time. You’ll see we’re perfect for each other.”
“I don’t think you should come over quite as often.”
She looked up at him. “Of course. If that’s what you want. But you can call me anytime if you change your mind.”
Remarkably, she waited until she got outside to cry. She’d been able to land any man she’d ever set her sights on. How had this gone wrong?
Shawna. She’d pay. She didn’t know how, but she would.
Without enough money in her wallet for a subway ride, Veronica started the long walk home. She paused in front of a bakery looking to hire. The Naughty or Nice Bakery? Sounds perfect for me. She jotted down the number. She had enjoyed cooking that evening. Maybe she could even land her own cooking show someday, or her own line of celebrity cooking ware. Or she’d marry a celebrity chef! She twirled on the sidewalk, enchanted by the endless possibilities. Maybe it was time to try the working world again until she found another suitable husband.
Or until Jeremy came to his senses.
***
Shaw got the kids into bed, and Jeremy went from room to room with hugs and kisses goodnight.
“Snow, we want kisses, too!” Jake called.
She looked at Jeremy who nodded for her to go ahead. She gave them each a kiss on the head and wondered if she’d ever be lucky enough to call these children her own some day. It was remarkable, really. She’d told herself she wouldn’t even think about children until she was well into her thirties, hopefully after she’d been on a few touring productions.
She followed Jeremy into the living room and they collapsed on the couch. “Dinner wasn’t bad, huh? Although the apple pie tasted a bit funny.” She rubbed her stomach.
“Glad I didn’t have any. I don’t think we’ll be seeing much more of Veronica.”
“Oh?”
“I told her I didn’t have feelings for her. But that I did have feelings for you.”
He reached for her hand and she ignored the painful twist in her stomach as he leaned over to kiss her.
***
She replayed their kiss most of the next day. She was chasing the triplets with their sneakers for a walk after day care, when her cell rang.
“I’m looking for Shawna White. This is the director from King productions.”
Did Veronica think she was stupid? Shawna was no fool. “Very funny,” she said. “Are you friends with Veronica Midas?”
“I’m sorry, did I get the wrong number? I’m trying to reach Shawna White? She tried out for our musical, and we’d like to offer her a spot.”
She nearly dropped the phone; she did try out for that touring production.
Fifteen minutes later she sat down on the couch, stunned. Jeremy walked out of his office and did a double take. “Are you alright?”
She could only nod.
“What’s wrong?”<
br />
“Well, nothing. It’s great actually. I got the part in a musical as understudy. Their first choice broke her leg in a car accident. They want to start touring in two weeks.” She stood up and started pacing.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m taking it.”
He stood up and took her in his arms. “Of course you have to take it. The kids and I will still be here. This is your dream. I can’t stand in the way of it.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” Then she clenched her hand to her stomach, pushed away from him and rushed to the bathroom.
Where she stayed for several hours.
“Can I get you anything?” Jeremy asked outside the door.
“Can you help me get to bed?”
He opened the door, and his face looked panicked. “You’re really sick.”
She looked up from the cold tile floor and nodded. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. He lay her down and covered her up. “Thanks, I’m freezing.”
He felt her forehead. “But you’re burning up. There’s a doctor who lives in the building. I’m calling him. He’s made house calls for the kids before.”
She tried to nod, but it hurt to move her head. She couldn’t remember ever being this sick.
***
The doctor looked at the thermometer. “You’ve got a temperature of 103. With the vomiting and … other problems,” as he discreetly put it, “I think we’ve got a case of food poisoning here, especially how it just suddenly hit you. What have you eaten?”
“She had chicken pot pie and apple pie last night,” Jeremy said.
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Chicken? If it wasn’t cooked properly, it could be salmonella.”
“Veronica cut up the apples and the chicken with a big knife and she was saying bad words. I don’t think she was doing it properly,” Lizzie informed them.
“The same knife? For the chicken and the apples?”
Lizzie nodded.
“There’s your likely answer.”
“Your stepmother poisoned you?”
“Not on purpose,” Shaw whispered. Or was it?
“Is Snow going to die like Mommy did?” John asked, tears welling in his eyes.
And that’s the last thing Shaw heard before she fell asleep.
***
Shaw woke to the feel of soft lips against hers. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Jeremy standing over her.
Surrounded by the kids, with stunned looks on their faces. “It worked! Daddy kissed her and she woke up! Daddy kissed Snow White!” one of them whispered.
Jeremy was leaning over her, smiling. “That’s because I like Snow very much.”
Shaw sat up, grinning at their funny nickname for her. She rubbed her eyes. “Wow, everyone is here.” The kids were surrounded by the animals, all watching her.
“We were worried. You’ve been asleep for sixteen hours.”
“I have?”
“Are you feeling better?”
She nodded.
“Then you better call King Productions because they need an answer about the tour. I told the kids you might be leaving us. They understand.”
But one look at their frowns told her they did not understand at all.
Neither did she. She slumped back in bed and closed her eyes. She thought she’d always wanted a spot in a production more than anything. But now, she didn’t know what she wanted. She opened her eyes and saw seven sweet little faces staring at her; and one seriously handsome face, etched with concern. And that’s when she knew what she wanted. She shook her head. “I’m not going. We’ve still got to learn how to whistle The Star Spangled Banner. Or do the bunny hop. I promised, and I don’t go back on my promises.”
The kids jumped up and clapped and danced around the room while Jeremy kissed her again. Then his phone rang and he answered it. “Veronica? No. We definitely don’t want any cookies. Shaw’s been very sick from the meal you made Sunday. Lizzie said you used the same knife on the chicken and the apples?” He paused for a moment. “Well, I seriously suggest you taking a food safety course before taking a job at any bakery. Good luck, Veronica. I wish you the best.”
“Did she purposely try to kill me?” Shaw asked, only half kidding.
“No, but it might have been a deep dark wish. She knows there’s no future with me. She knows I love you.”
“And so do we, Snow!” said Jenny, as the seven children, two cats, dog, birds and ferret piled onto her bed.
“Just promise you won’t be a bad stepmother like Veronica’s been to you,” Maddy said.
Shaw laughed. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourselves.”
But Jeremy raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested they knew exactly how things would play out. And it would be the role of a lifetime.
“Goldie”
Goldie Lockston counted the children that danced past her in a conga line led by a singing woman in a rabbit costume and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she was in charge of one dog for the week instead of seven energetic children. Yikes. Goldie wasn’t the biggest dog lover in the world, but at least she had a place to stay for a few days.
It’s not that Goldie was homeless; she was more than welcome to live with her parents. That’s where her bills went. That’s where her cello from seventh grade was stored, and homeless people certainly did not own cellos. Technically, on job applications and census forms she listed her parents’ address as her permanent address. But she couldn’t live there. Her mother still hounded her to get a real job instead of chasing her ‘silly art dream.’ And to ‘stick to a curfew if you’re living under my roof, young lady.’ Plus, there wasn’t a very big art scene in her hometown unless the paint-your-own-pottery store counted. Which it did not. Living at home at age twenty-five just wasn’t an option.
So, she and her pink luggage set moved from place to place when friends had the room to spare. It’s not like she was sleeping in cars or under bridges. That was homeless. And she hated the word ‘squatter.’ It made her think of the time she’d peed in the woods during her family’s camping trip in the mountains. She’d been terrified a bear would grab her the entire time.
No, squatter wasn’t the right word either. Serial houseguest? Mobile tenant? One thing was sure, she’d learned how to pack light: one suitcase for her clothes, one for her art supplies. Her purse was stuffed with essentials like makeup, travel-sized toothpaste, and mouthwash. It was a fine setup.
She fingered the key in her hand and tightened the grip on her luggage. This particular arrangement was riskier than usual, but who’d ever find out? Aurora had been desperate for someone to fill in for her pet-sitting service, and Goldie needed a break from the oh-my-god-yes-yes-more passion fest unfolding in her friend Ariel’s apartment. Luckily, the guy who lived here had told the doorman at Grimm Towers to expect a pet sitter to stop by, so she’d had no trouble getting in the building.
She took a deep breath and opened the door to the apartment. She rolled her eyes as she walked into the grand marble foyer. People really live like this? Setting down her suitcases, she took in the giant crystal chandelier and marble columns. The mortgage on this place for a month could probably keep her living comfortably for a year. Some people truly live in a different world, she thought.
A high-pitched whine from the other end of the apartment caught her attention. That must be Miss Sniggles, her charge for the week. Aurora told her Miss Sniggles had to be fed twice daily and let out every four hours. She hadn’t exactly asked Goldie to stay overnight to complete the job. But it was the perfect way to escape the love nest taking over Ariel’s apartment. Besides, Aurora was spending the weekend with her guy upstate. She’d never find out. And really, it was almost like a bonus service. It was round-the-clock dog sitting. Some people would get premium pay for this, and all she was doing was crashing for a few days. She nodded to herself, pleased with her generous spirit.
Kicking off her shoes
, she slid across the marble floor, ala Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Sure, this was kind of risky, but she’d be out of here before next Saturday at five when the owner was due back. Usually, people knew when she was crashing at their place. This was the first time she was, technically, an uninvited guest. She wrinkled her nose at the phrase. It made her sound like a roach, or something to be caught in a trap.
She followed the sound of the whimpering dog and pushed open a door at the end of the hall. That’s right, she’d forgotten. Aurora had told her the dog had its own room. Its own room. And this dog was small enough that a shoebox would have sufficed for a doghouse. A teacup Chihuahua? Is that what Aurora had called it? And it was lounging on a miniature canopy bed. For the first time in her life, she’d met a dog that had it better than her. She was glad she wouldn’t be meeting the man who lived here; she might be tempted to lecture him on the foolishness of excess.
But still, the tiny dog prancing at her feet was adorable. It couldn’t help that it was a pampered plaything for some rich guy. She picked up the pooch and the little thing fit in her hand. “You are such a cutie!” She’d been expecting something big like a German shepherd, not a stuffed animal come to life. A crystal-studded dog leash hung from a peg on the wall, along with itty-bitty coats and clothes for the dog. She read the name engraved on the dog tag. “Miss Sniggles? Oh, you poor thing.” She patted the dog’s head then set her down, trying to imagine what kind of guy owned a pet like this.
The dog trotted after her as she inspected the apartment, its little claws tapping on the floor. One thing was for sure, Goldie needed coffee. Ariel and her boyfriend were very expressive in their lovemaking. A pillow wrapped around your head only blocks out so much of that, and now she was crabby and tired and more than a smidge jealous. It’d been a while since she’d been in a similar position. Or positions, from the sound of it last night.
Besides the dog, nothing about the apartment gave her any insight into the man who lived here. There was no exquisite art hanging on the walls, no photos. The place featured functional, quality furniture and zero clutter. The apartment looked like it’d been plucked from a designer magazine. No soul, she whispered to herself.
