“Not that Vic’s giving into the pressure of the chauvinists,” he said, dispelling Millie’s theory. “She’d tell them to take their business elsewhere. But…”
“You want to go back,” Millie realized.
He nodded. “I loved law. I miss it. I retired too soon. If I hadn’t, I could have avoided the whole mess with Ellen.”
So he was going back to work just as Millie was finally retiring her tiara? The implication of that smacked her like a hand upside the head. They’d only exchanged a few winks, a couple of almost-kisses, so she shouldn’t be concerned that they had different goals.
But it mattered.
Too much.
Chapter Fifteen
“Most women set out to change a man, and when they have changed him they do not like him.”
—Marlene Dietrich
Hi, Audrey,” Millie said over Brigitte’s head, surprised when her daughter-in-law followed the teenager into the condo. She released her granddaughter from her arms and reached for Audrey, giving her a quick hug. “It’s great to see you both.”
Only a couple of weeks had passed since her casserole delivery to their house. But it felt longer. She could only imagine how long it felt for Steven, not living with them anymore. But at least he was seeing Brigitte.
Audrey didn’t seem in any particular hurry to drop her and rush off, though. “It’s great seeing you, too,” Audrey said, but she glanced around the condo, gazing down the hall toward the kitchen, as if looking for someone else.
The romantic in Millie wanted to believe she missed Steven and wanted to catch at least a glimpse of him. Millie’s hope grew when Audrey asked, “So how’s your class going? Mitchell and Steven still attending?”
“Yes, they’re doing pretty good, too,” she said, although they’d never be star students like Charles, or even Wally, who’d shown vast improvement.
“Just pretty good?” Steven asked, as he walked up from the basement. He didn’t look at Millie as he asked the question; his gaze was running hungrily over his wife. Like their daughter she wore denim shorts and a tank top, looking almost as young as Brigitte.
“Fantastic,” Millie lied, but she doubted he heard her… with the intense way he and Audrey were staring at each other.
“Does your friend Kim still have that cat?” Brigitte asked, taking Millie’s hand and tugging her toward the door.
Millie got the hint. “Yes. She wanted you to come by and see it the next time you came for a visit. So we better go. You don’t want Kim mad at you.”
No one protested as she and Brigitte ducked out the door. Maybe Audrey and Steven didn’t even notice their leaving.
“Wow,” Brigitte breathed, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “Did you see the way they were looking at each other?”
Millie’s heart raced a bit, too. “Yes. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Your mom’s impressed he’s taking the class, but I have to admit that he has a long ways to go.”
“But he’s trying, really trying,” Brigitte said. “I think that’s why she’s not as mad as she was.” Her face glowed with hopefulness, nearly as bright as the orange tank top she wore.
Millie, although forty years older, had dressed in an outfit similar to her granddaughter’s and Audrey’s: long denim shorts, but she wore a sleeveless orange sweater instead of a form-fitting tank. She and Brigitte both favored bright, happy colors. And optimism.
“Yes, she’s not as mad,” Millie agreed. And maybe she’d missed him as much as he had her.
“We can really go see the cat,” Brigitte said, as they walked the sidewalk downhill toward Kim’s condo.
“I’m thinking about getting a dog, myself,” Millie shared. “Would you take care of it when I go away?”
Brigitte stopped on the sidewalk and whirled toward her. “Where are you going?” she asked, a bit panicked.
“Nowhere right now,” she assured her.
“But when things are back to normal, you want to go somewhere?” Brigitte guessed. “Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know,” Millie realized. “I’m thinking about taking a cruise.”
Funny how it didn’t hold as much appeal now that she knew she’d be doing it alone. But since the trips she intended to take were planned tours, other people would be along. Red Hatters. Hilltop residents. But there’d be couples. And then her.
Alone.
“You’re going to wait until you’re done with the class first, though, right?” Brigitte double-checked. Her parents’ problems had brought out an insecurity that the usually confident teenager had never had before.
Millie nodded. “Of course I will. We have a lot more to teach yet.”
“Is it only guys?”
“No,” Millie admitted. “A friend’s niece joined.”
“Is she my age?”
“No, more like Uncle Mitchell’s.” In age, career, and domestic ineptness. She didn’t know if it was promising that they had so much in common or not. Maybe Mitchell had a better chance of keeping a Suzy Homemaker type even though he was drawn to the high-powered career women.
Why was Charles drawn to her? She knew he was; he’d almost kissed her too many times to not be drawn to her. If he was drawn to the domestic goddess, Millie didn’t intend to be one much longer. She was determined to retire her tiara. But her plan to travel didn’t sound quite as appealing as it once had…
“Grandma?” Brigitte called her, as if she’d called her before. Even though they stood just feet apart on the sidewalk Millie hadn’t heard her. “Would that be okay then?”
“Would what be okay, honey?” she asked, contrite over not listening to her granddaughter. Whatever Brigitte wanted, Millie wasn’t likely to refuse.
“If I joined the class, too.”
“What?” she asked, caught off guard by the teenager’s request. She’d expected a request to see an R-rated movie or the purchase of a parental guidance CD.
“Yeah, I want to learn how to help out around the house, too. I’m old enough. I know you took over taking care of Grandpop when you were younger than me, when your mom died. I can do more around the house than I do,” she said, guilt heavy in her young voice. “Then Mom wouldn’t be so stressed…”
And she might take her dad back. Millie was touched by her granddaughter’s reasoning and her sacrifice. What teenager actually wanted to do chores?
Only very special ones. She put her arm around her granddaughter’s thin shoulders, and they resumed walking toward Kim’s that way, their arms around each other, their hips bumping. “I’d love to have you in class. And if your mom is too busy to drop you off, I could pick you up.”
Brigitte shook her head. “It might be better if Dad picked me up.”
The little schemer. “Yeah, it might,” Millie agreed, as she knocked on Kim’s door.
Only a few seconds passed before her friend flung it open. At first disappointment flickered through Kim’s dark eyes, but she blinked it away with a bright smile for Brigitte. “Hey, kid! Man, you get prettier every time I see you.”
“Thanks,” Brigitte said, blushing a little. “I look like my grandma.”
“Good genes,” Kim agreed.
Because she was blushing now, Millie stated the reason for their visit. “We came to play with the cat.”
“Good, you can have him,” Kim offered, as she gestured them through her foyer. Her condo looked a lot like Millie’s, with its earth tones and hardwood floors, but while Millie’s walls were a more neutral tan, Kim’s were a rich chocolate. “He’s been really surly lately.”
“Well, you know how pets start acting like their owners,” Millie teased.
“I’m not his owner,” Kim was quick to deny, then grumbled something about the cat acting like it owned her.
Now Millie understood why she wanted to get rid of it so badly. Kim couldn’t handle anyone acting like they owned her. Millie hoped her friend’s new neighbor was aware of that.
“I couldn’t have a
cat anyways,” Brigitte said, “between school and practice and now taking Grandma’s class, I’ll never be home.”
“Another student?” Kim nodded her approval. “Good.”
“Maybe we should have your neighbor join, too,” Millie said, following Kim as she looked under the couch and behind the curtains for the cat.
“He doesn’t need any more talents,” she remarked offhandedly, then blushed when Millie gasped. “I’m not talking about…” She sighed. “We’re not going to talk about him. There’s enough going around about us already.”
“Any of it true?”
“Don’t I wish,” she muttered again, as she leaned over the railing to the basement stairs. “No, I don’t mean that. Where is that dang cat?”
“It’s okay,” Brigitte assured her. “We really didn’t come over to see the cat. We just had to get out of Grandma’s condo to leave my mom and dad alone. They were looking at each other.”
When Kim didn’t react, Brigitte said it again, “You know, looking at each other.”
Kim nodded. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately.”
“No, that’s a good thing. That means that they’re not going to get a divorce.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Millie cautioned her.
“Hmmm,” Kim mused, “where could she get that eternally optimistic attitude from?”
A smile tugged at Millie’s mouth. “I don’t know.”
So everyone brought their vacuum cleaner?” Millie asked, looking around the class. They’d moved from the kitchen to the open area of the community center where they held Movie Night. They’d moved the assorted recliners to one side of the room, near the sliders that opened onto the deck like the ones in the kitchen did. Sunlight flooded the room, making the carpet appear more cream than deep tan.
Maybe they should have waited until after Movie Night to vacuum; then they would have had popcorn kernels and potato chip crumbs to pick up. But Millie had brought along some dirt… in a bag and a bottle of ketchup to squirt on the floor. Theresa had ground up some crackers, and Kim bustled into the room carrying the picnic basket she’d borrowed from Millie.
“What was she supposed to bring again?” Theresa asked.
“Cat hair?” Millie asked, glimpsing gray fur through the basket weave.
“You brought the cat?” Theresa asked, glancing down herself at the white linen capris she wore with a silk blouse, probably imagining cat hair on them.
“I—it doesn’t seem quite right,” Kim said. “I didn’t want to leave it home.”
“You’re worried about it,” Theresa said, in that ah-ha voice, with a teasing smile.
Kim shook her head but didn’t deny it. She set the basket on the seat of a recliner. “Okay, we can get started…”
Mitchell already had, swinging his vacuum cleaner close to Victoria’s as he flashed her his dimpled grin. The boy thought he was irresistible, but Millie wasn’t sure that Victoria agreed with him. She seemed more intent on picking up the dirt with her Hoover; then Millie caught her sneaking a peek at him from under her lashes.
Charles caught Millie watching them and flashed her that knee-weakening smile of his. He thought his matchmaking was successful. Did he really wish a slob like Mitchell on his niece? But then by the time Millie was done with her baby, he wouldn’t be.
Steven was smiling at a girl, too: his daughter, as she worked alongside him. Millie wished she had thought of having Brigitte join. If she’d been in the class from the first, Steven might have tried harder. He was trying now, but maybe his talk with Audrey had provided the motivation. He’d never said what they’d discussed, but he seemed happier than he had since he’d moved in with Millie, more hopeful. Catching his lower lip between his teeth, he concentrated on picking up all the dirt.
Wally wielded his machine with skill equal to or greater than Charles’s effortless motions. While Theresa hovered around him, she couldn’t offer any critique. Her blue eyes clouded with thoughtfulness. Hopefully she was impressed by how hard her husband worked, not for domestic expertise, but for her.
As usual, Kim was helping Mr. Lindstrom, shouting out instructions above the droning of all the machines. His hearing aid screeched, either from the racket or her yelling. Then as he pushed the cleaner, the cat jumped out of the basket into the path of the vacuum’s head. Before it could move, Mr. Lindstrom sucked up its tail. Its yowl curled Millie’s toes.
Kim reacted fast, pulling the cord on the vacuum to cut off its power supply. Millie rushed to help her friend but hesitated reaching for the hissing animal. It slashed its claws across Kim’s hand, drawing blood, but she quickly freed its tail. “I’m sorry, Millie, but I have to leave. I need to bring it home,” she said.
“I understand.” The cat mattered to Kim. Despite all her protests to the contrary, she’d become attached to it.
“I didn’t see it,” Mr. Lindstrom said. “It came out of nowhere. Did I hurt the poor thing?”
Millie patted his thin arm. “It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Lindstrom.” But at least they knew he could pick up cat hair. “We’ll move on to emptying the bag or bagless canister on your cleaners and some general maintenance, like replacing belts.” She imagined Mr. Lindstrom’s machine would need a new one after sucking up a cat.
Since there was no cooking, the class was a short one. In addition to vacuuming, they covered mopping. Although these were probably Millie’s least favorite housekeeping duties, her class seemed to enjoy them, judging by their laughter.
“Will your friend’s cat be okay?” Brigitte asked Millie as the class wrapped up.
Millie nodded. “Kim will take care of it. Don’t worry. So what did you think of the class?”
“It was fun. I really like hanging out with Dad and Uncle Mitchell. And Victoria’s funny. So is Mr. Moelker.”
“Good.”
“But the best part is you, Grandma,” Brigitte said, giving Millie a quick hug. “You make cleaning fun. You’re pretty cool.”
Cool was not old-fashioned at all. Millie loved it.
“So do you need me to drop you home?”
“I’m going to do it,” Steven said, as he walked up behind his daughter and put his arm around her thin shoulders. Either the class or stress had dropped a few pounds off his frame, so that his belly didn’t strain at the buttons of his shirt anymore, and his jeans were looser. “I love hanging with my best girl,” he said.
“Dad,” Brigitte protested, as if embarrassed. But her eyes were bright and she smiled. Happy. Hopeful. Like Millie, she probably suspected that Brigitte wasn’t the only girl he wanted to hang with tonight since he was going home.
Not for good. Not yet. But Millie hoped it would happen. “What’s your brother doing?” Coming over to her house to mooch another meal?
“He talked Victoria into going out with him,” Brigitte revealed, as if sharing a salacious secret.
But since Mitchell and Victoria walked out together, it was hardly a clandestine affair.
“It’s just coffee,” Steven said. “But still, I thought she was too smart to be taken in by his questionable charm,” he added, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
Millie wondered if Steven didn’t live a bit vicariously through his single brother. Didn’t he see that that life could be lonely? Millie could tell him that. She was lonely, especially so as she watched everyone leave the community center in pairs. Even Mr. Lindstrom had someone helping him home. But Charles wasn’t gone yet. As usual, he was helping to pick up.
“So what do you think about Mitchell taking your niece to coffee?” she asked, figuring he’d either whoop over the success of his matchmaking or admit he’d changed his mind about them.
“I think it’s a great idea,” he said, with a wide grin. “Want to join me for coffee?”
Millie shook her head. “If we showed up at the café, too, they’d think we’re spying on them.”
“We don’t have to go out,” he said. “Remember, I know how to make coffee. I make a pretty g
ood cup, if I say so myself. How about coming back to my place?”
She might have agreed, if she really believed they’d just drink coffee. But he might finally manage a kiss before someone interrupted them. And Millie knew that was all it would take for her to change the plans she’d made.
If she were true to her plan, she wouldn’t be a domestic goddess much longer. So she had to figure out exactly what that left her. She needed to learn that for herself, before she could begin a relationship with anyone.
“I can’t,” she begged off. “I have to start planning the next class.” She restrained a flinch over her lie. The lessons were all planned out and carefully labeled in her binder.
Charles stared at her, his brow wrinkled as if he were trying to find the pieces to a puzzle. She had to be confusing him, blowing hot and cold. Heck, she was confusing herself. But his returning to work had changed her plan, reminding her of the nights when she’d waited on Bruce hand and foot when he’d come home after a long day at the office. She’d had his meal waiting, warm in the oven; she’d even brought his slippers, not like a dog but like a dutiful wife. She didn’t resent or regret any of those years.
He’d worked insurance; she’d worked the home. But she didn’t want to work anymore.
“Millie…”
“Charles, I’m sorry. This class is keeping me so busy.”
“It’s a success,” he praised her. “Being successful at anything takes time.”
That was what she was afraid of; he’d be spending long days at the office. She’d be just as alone with him as she was now. “Yes,” she agreed. “You understand.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that. Maybe next time?”
Millie nodded. Maybe by then she would have figured out exactly what she wanted.
The travel, the cruises, or Charles.
Chapter Sixteen
“I would be content being a housewife if I could find the kind of man who wouldn’t treat me like one.”
—Terry McMillan
Knuckles rapped against the glass of the patio door. Kim glanced up, instantly recognizing the shadow outside her walkout basement. She gestured for George to come inside.
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