The Red Hat Society's Domestic Goddess (17 page)

“They shared the chores of living as some couples do—she did most of the work and he appreciated it.”

—
Paula Gosling

H
ow can he live like this?” Steven asked, as he and Millie stepped inside Mitchell’s loft apartment.

The hardwood floor, what was visible under clothing and discarded pizza boxes, was dull with stains. In the light streaming
through the tall windows, dust particles danced. At the other end of the expansive living area, the galley kitchen was cluttered
with empty milk cartons and pop cans, the milk glass cupboard doors standing open.

Just a week ago Millie had cleaned the apartment so that the oak floors had gleamed, the windows sparkled, and the kitchen
had been neat, inviting guests to sit at the leather stools at the concrete countertop. When it was clean the space, with
its exterior brick walls and open ceiling, befit a young professional like Mitchell. Now it once again befit a fraternity
house.

A grimace of disgust twisted Steven’s mouth. But he really had no room to criticize. Despite the classes, he had yet to pick
up the basement himself. The chips would probably still be there if Millie hadn’t vacuumed.

“He’s a slob,” Millie said, surprised at how easy it was to admit now when the words had nearly stuck in her throat the first
time. Steven laughed, but she lightly tapped his arm and reminded him, “You are too.”

“Mom—”

“You two are not using anything you’ve learned.” But that was the problem; they hadn’t learned.

Mitchell’s steel door rattled as he fumbled with the lock. Apparently he hadn’t worked much later than his brother today.
When Steven pulled open the door he nearly fell inside, with the keys stuck in the lock and his briefcase wedged between his
knees. “What’s this?” he asked, brown eyes widening with surprise.

“An ambush,” Steven warned him. “Save yourself. Mom’s giving a private lesson.”

“Homework.” She gestured around the trashed room, then toward the container of cleaning supplies sitting just inside the door.
“Get busy.”

Her plan had been to sit on the couch and supervise, without lifting a finger, to be a true goddess. She’d even thought about
having one of them cook dinner. But her stomach churned when she lifted pizza boxes from the couch, or tried to, as the cheese
stuck to the leather.

She wouldn’t be able to sit or eat. Not until she cleaned. “Get me the bucket,” she told Steven.

“Yeah, I feel like throwing up, too,” he remarked.

M
illie set her hat on the island in the community center kitchen and fluffed her curls out. She loved her red hat, but no matter
how wide the brim, her curls poofed out beyond it, and she wound up looking like Annie Hall.

“Why’d you volunteer us for clean-up?” Kim asked Theresa, as the friends each carried a load of dishes into the kitchen. “We
do enough of that after class these days.”

“I’ve got this,” Millie told them, as she turned on the faucet. “You two don’t have to stay.”

“We’re staying.” Theresa insisted, “and we’re finally going to talk. That’s why I volunteered us.”

Guilt flashed through Millie. They were so busy these days that they didn’t have as much time to talk as they used to. That
was her fault, too. She’d counted on the classes giving her back more of her time, not stealing it all away. “Things have
been crazy,” she agreed. “So let’s talk.”

“Like we haven’t just done enough of that,” Kim said with a smirk.

It was true. They’d talked a lot during the get-together of the Red Hot Hatters of Hilltop. The room echoed with the buzz
of all the lively conversation. Several of the women had thanked them for teaching their husbands, sons, or nephews how to
make coffee and do laundry and dishes. At least some people considered the class a success.

“It was a great get-together,” Millie commented, still basking in the praise of her chapterettes.

“But I didn’t get the chance to talk to the two of you,”
Theresa pointed out. A bit of desperation strained her voice as she added, “And I’ve been trying to do that for days.”

“Uh-oh,” Kim said with an exaggerated sigh. “We’re in trouble now, Millie.”

Millie shut off the water and turned from the sink to reach for Theresa’s hand. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

Theresa shrugged. “I’ve just… missed you guys.”

“We’ve been around,” Kim said.

Theresa laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing rumors. In your aerobics class and again today. Kim, you’ve been seen with your
neighbor in compromising circumstances.”

Her cheeks grew a bit pink. “That was one time! So what?”

“I still haven’t met him,” Millie realized, but from the defensive way Kim acted, she suspected she would, maybe sooner than
later.

“You’re missing out,” Theresa told Millie, with a little sigh. “He’s really cute.” Then she turned toward Kim. “So you’re
seeing him now?”

Kim’s brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she replied, “Through my window one night. Not since then.”

“What?” Millie asked, drawing her brows together in confusion.

“He saw my lights on and wanted to make sure I was okay. There was nothing more to it,” she insisted.

Theresa skeptically arched a blond brow.

“Really,” Kim maintained. “I haven’t even seen him since. We’re on different shifts. I haven’t been up that late since the
night he was on my patio.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. You’ve looked a little tired
lately. I think you’ve tried to stay up. It’s just that as you get older, you need more sleep,” Theresa teased.

Kim shot her a mock glare. “Remember which one of us is older.”

“I’m trying to remember who it was that always claimed men are too much trouble?”

“You’re preaching to the choir here,” Kim said. “I don’t intend to get anywhere near an altar
ever.
I’m too set in my ways, too independent.”

“I wasn’t preaching,” Theresa insisted. “Just trying to find out what’s going on with my friends. It’s sad when Mrs. Ryers
knows more than I do.”

Kim shook her head, but she didn’t dislodge her red hat; it perched regally on her head. “She
thinks
she knows more than everyone else.”

Theresa’s blue eyes twinkled with amusement. “True, but in this case, I think she may be right, because then there’s Millie.”

Uh-oh,
she silently echoed Kim’s earlier remark. Both her friends turned on her now. “I’ve been busy,” she reminded them. “With
the class.”

“With Charles Moelker,” Theresa said. “Are you forgetting what your plans are? To be independent?”

“I am independent,” she said. “Bruce has been gone five years.” Sometimes it felt like more, when she struggled to remember
his face. Sometimes it felt like less, when she turned to him in the night, seeking the heat of his body and the security
of his arms, but she found only emptiness.

Theresa shook her head. “But your dad just got married last year.”

To one of the Red Hot Hatters. Lady Lucky was the
Red Hat name of Millie’s stepmother because Barbara always did so well at the slots. She’d done well in love, too, when she’d
fallen for Pop.

“So?” Millie knew the point Theresa was trying to make, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

“You’re used to taking care of a man. That’s the
way
you’re set in,” Theresa pointed out.

“Still not seeing the danger there,” Millie said. And now she was lying to her friends. She’d seen the danger the other night,
when Charles had almost kissed her then invited her in. “Dad’s married off. And I’m hoping to train my boys to take care of
themselves.”

“And that’s why you’re looking for someone else,” Theresa said, almost as if saying “ah ha” upon finding a suspect in a crime.

Was it a crime to look for someone? To want to spend some time with someone else? Millie doubted it. But Theresa wasn’t in
the mood to listen. She was in the mood to lecture. Millie suspected her fear wasn’t for Millie but that she might lose her
friends.

“You
need
someone to take care of, to do everything for,” Theresa said, obviously finding Millie’s need incomprehensible. She shook
her head. “What do you think, Kim?”

Millie turned toward her tall, blond friend, curious to hear her opinion. Kim was usually an uncanny judge of character, if
sometimes a bit harsh with that judgment.

Kim, clad in a sleeveless purple suit, shrugged her bare shoulders. “She can’t help it. She’s been taking care of all the
men in her life since her mom died. She was just a kid then; that’s all she knows.”

“She’s
also standing right here,” Millie reminded them. These were her friends, Millie thought, as irritation gnawed at her nerve
endings. “And I’m not a kid anymore. I know what I want.”

“So what do you want?” Kim asked her.

“Charles Moelker?” Just his name was Theresa’s question.

“What if I do?” Millie turned the inquisition on them. “What if I want to be with someone? Yeah, I’m not a kid anymore. But
I know you’re never too old to find love. My dad and Barbara are so happy.”

“Do you love Charles?” Kim asked, her voice, usually so brash and sassy, soft with concern.

“I don’t really know Charles,” she admitted to her friends and to herself. Then she added another confession, “But I think
I’d like to get to know him better.”

Theresa sighed. “Ah, Millie…”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to retire your tiara, that you wanted to travel. To have fun.”

Millie nodded. “Yes, that’s what I said. I haven’t changed my mind about that.” With each class of the bachelor’s survival
course it became that much more important to her. “But I never said that I wanted to do that alone.”

Theresa squeezed Millie’s arm. “Just be careful that you’re not looking for someone to take care of again and that you forget
what you want.”

Millie smiled, feigning confidence for her friends. “Of course I won’t. You’re worrying for nothing. Like I
said, I don’t even really know Charles. He and I may want completely different things out of life.”

Theresa snorted. “Yeah, he may want a maid.”

“If he did, he wouldn’t be in the class,” Millie defended him.

Kim chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know. It might be the perfect place to find one.”

“Come on, you two,” she said, waving off their concern as she turned back toward the sink. “You’re starting to nag.”

“Is it working? Are we getting through to you?” Theresa persisted.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to whip the class into shape. I’ll get my sons trained. Steven reconciled. Mitchell married off. I
will retire my tiara. I will travel the world far and wide,” she promised them and herself.

“I will never wait on another man,” Theresa added, but was she saying it for Millie to repeat or for herself?

Kim must have wondered, too, for she ignored her friend’s comment to add a cryptic one of her own. “Just remember this, Millie.
It’s what I realized as I was nearing the altar. It’s easier to do what you want when you’re alone.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. I won’t be alone until I get Steven moved out.”

Maybe she would increase the number of days the class met a week. Not only would it increase the likelihood of the instructions
sticking, it would give her an opportunity to get to know Charles better. To see if they did indeed want the same or different
things out of life, and if they were ready for more than friendship.

Chapter Twelve

“Man can be chained, but he cannot be domesticated.”

—
Robert Heinlein

W
hen her kids were in school, Millie had always volunteered to chaperone the field trips. Apparently, she’d forgotten the headaches
they’d caused because she’d suggested another one for the class. This was the fifth time the bachelor survival course had
met. She’d hoped her sons would have gotten the hang of things by now.

Her temples throbbed as she raised her voice so all the students, gathered just inside the entrance to the grocery store,
were able to hear her. Not that they were listening, as Mitchell and Steven’s voices rumbled disruptively in the back of the
group.

“This is an important lesson,” she called out. “You all need to know that when you’re cooking, the food isn’t automatically
set out for you. You have to get the ingredients yourself. And if they’re not in the refrigerator, you need to head to the
store. So pull out your recipes, grab a
cart and make sure you buy all the things necessary to make dinner. Here are a few suggestions to keep in mind. Pick up canned
food and wine first, then fresh and frozen last.”

The students appeared to listen, as most of them grabbed a cart and headed toward the aisles, of which there weren’t many.
She’d chosen the local grocery closest to Hilltop for proximity, since they’d all had to drive, and convenience, since its
smaller size made it less overwhelming than a supermarket.

Millie did most of her shopping here. She liked the cleanliness of its white and green tiled floors and walls, and although
the lighting was soft instead of harsh fluorescent, the store was bright. The meat and produce were fresh, the gourmet selection
was extensive, and there was nothing in bulk. Millie resented how so much was sold in bulk nowadays. What was a single person
to do with all the excess? Her freezer and cupboards were already too full. For its single-sized portions, Millie preferred
this grocery.