The Red Hat Society's Domestic Goddess (23 page)

“Of course.”

She thought about asking for his ID, just to make sure he was her husband. But she knew this man, with the sharp eyes and
the wide grin, better than she knew the stranger she’d been living with for the last several months. This man bore an uncanny
resemblance to the young ambitious man she’d married.

“So are you going golfing with Charles and some of the other guys from class?” Like she’d hoped he would, he had made friends.

He shook his head. “Not today. We’ve got a golf date for Saturday. Charles is working today.”

“That’s right. He went back to work.” She wondered how Millie felt about that. A man with a job didn’t fit with her plan.
“So who are you golfing with?”

He grinned. “A couple of guys from the office and an old client.”

“From the business?”

“Yeah. This client always insisted on dealing with only me,” he said, the pride back as he lifted his chin.

“So you’re going back to work?”

“They’d like me to,” he said, flashing a really wide grin. “Apparently things don’t run as smoothly without the old man.”

“You’re not an old man,” she told him. Not today. Today he had all the fire and determination of the young man she’d fallen
in love with. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m thinking about following Charles’s example, put in a couple short days a week, just enough to keep an eye on things.
What do you think about that?”

“You worked a long time building your business. I can understand you wanting to keep an eye on things.” She understood that
more easily than his selling it; it was his baby, like she’d once been.

“So you think it’s a good idea?”

“If it’ll make you happy, yes.”

“I want to make you happy,” he told her, then he leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers. His mouth moved softly and sweetly
over hers, as his big hand cradled her face.

Theresa’s toes curled into the sheets, and she murmured in her throat. But he pulled away, his eyes twinkling, as he told
her, “I don’t want to be late.”

He wasn’t.

Not too late for them.

She reached for the Red Hat mug again, her hands not quite steady. “Thanks for the coffee. Coffee in bed, you’re going to
spoil me.”

“That’s my intention,” he assured her even as he took the cup from her hands and kissed her again.

She pulled slightly back to tease him. “I thought you didn’t want to be late.”

He groaned as he tore his mouth from hers. “Yeah, yeah, I have to go,” he said as he headed toward the door.

She leaned back in bed, smiling. He wasn’t leaving, not really. He was finally back.

Chapter Seventeen

“The effect of having other interests beyond those domestic works well. The more one does and sees and feels, the more one
is able to do, and the more genuine may be one’s appreciation of fundamental things like home, and love, and understanding
companionship.”

—Amelia Earhart

A
s the wind picked up the paper, Kim caught the photocopy of the page from
The Red Hat Society Cookbook.
“Copying from the bible again?” she teased Millie. “Jalapeño-Stuffed Bacon-Wrapped Grilled Shrimp.”

“Great day for grilling,” Millie said, as they supervised the heating up of the grills on the community center’s expansive
deck. Situated as it was near the top of the hill, the deck was suspended off the center, overlooking treetops. The beautiful
setting tempted Millie to schedule more grilling lessons. She’d have to look in the “bible” for more grilling recipes, like
this favorite of hers. “The shrimp are delicious this way.”

“Yes,” Kim agreed, “but spicy.” Using the recipe, she gestured toward Mr. Lindstrom. He stood at one of the
several patio tables on the deck, the umbrella over his head undulating in the wind.

“I didn’t get really hot jalapeños,” Millie promised, knowing she spoke the truth since her eyes weren’t watering and her
sons had already complained that they weren’t hot enough. She popped a thin piece of pepper into the back of a shrimp and
wrapped a slice of bacon around it. “But we have other options,” she reminded Kim.

Along with the shrimp, they had fixings for other kebabs: chunks of beef and plenty of vegetables that the students had had
to cut up. She’d already shown them what size and how to cut the pieces; finished skewers sat on the table in front of her
and Kim, ready for the grill.

“They’re doing a great job,” Theresa said, as she joined her friends. Even though she said “they”, she only watched one student.
Wally.

Millie could understand why. The man looked good. His skin, once pale from all his time inside, was now a golden tan. And
his eyes were bright again, like Charles’s had always been. Millie’s gaze strayed from Wally to Charles, where he stood in
the middle of her family. Brigitte was totally focused on him, hanging on his every word as he chopped vegetables.

Steven tried to mimic his movements. Mitchell used a little more flair, wielding the knife as if it were a baton. Millie winced,
certain he was going to chop off a finger. Maybe he thought it would be worth it if Victoria kissed it to make it better.
She stood near him, shaking her head as if exasperated with him, but her smile was wide.

As usual Charles caught Millie watching him… and winked. Her knees weakened, and for just a moment she clutched the edge of
the table. If the man could make her feel like this with just a wink, what would a kiss do to her?

“So what’s going on between you and Charles?” Theresa asked.

Millie wasn’t sure if she was asking in general or about the wink. Either way, her answer was the same. “Nothing.”

“You can tell me,” Theresa coaxed, “I’m not Mrs. Ryers. The whole community won’t know your business.”

Kim sighed. “That’s not what we’re worried about. It’s the lecture on how men are the root of all evil,” she teased, with
a gentle nudge to Millie’s arm. They shared a quick, amused glance.

“I know I’ve been a little overly dramatic lately,” Theresa admitted, with her usual grace. “I was working through some things.”

“Whether or not you wanted to kick Wally to the curb,” Kim said, with her usual bluntness.

Pink color rose in Theresa’s face. Embarrassment didn’t redden and blotch her skin like it did Millie’s. Theresa looked pretty;
Millie usually looked like she’d been out in a snowstorm and was suffering frostbite.

“I don’t know where you get these ideas,” Theresa said to Kim, but she didn’t deny that she’d considered it.

Kim shrugged. “Doesn’t matter—looks like you’ve decided to keep him.”

“Looks like,” Theresa agreed with a small, secretive smile reminiscent of the
Mona Lisa.

Millie wrapped an arm around her friend, gently squeezing her. “I’m so happy for you,” she said.

“What about for you?” Theresa asked, squeezing back. “And Charles Moelker?”

Millie shook her head, causing the wind to tousle her curls even more. Her hair was probably standing six inches above her
head, like Ronald McDonald’s. Maybe she needed to get it cut short, like Kim’s.

“There is no me and Charles,” she insisted, “except in class. And speaking of the class, we’d better get back to teaching
it.”

Kim nodded, either letting Millie off the hook or trying to avoid getting on it herself. “Yeah, it looks like Mr. Lindstrom
could use some help.”

“He thinks you’re mad at him over the cat,” Millie clued in her friend.

Kim waved off his concern. “She’s fine.”

“She?”

“Yes, and she’s expecting. So you two need to expect a couple kittens each in a few weeks. She’s carrying a big litter.” Before
they could refuse, she rushed off to help their oldest student.

Mr. Lindstrom beamed as she walked up to him, obviously grateful that she didn’t hold a grudge. He even reached up to give
her a hug, but he’d apparently forgotten he held the grilling fork. Or maybe he hadn’t. Either way, he got her with it, in
a sensitive area.

Millie tried to smother a laugh, but Theresa didn’t
even bother. “She’s going to feel that when she sits down,” she said, chuckling.

“Okay, everyone, let’s put our skewers on the grills,” Millie announced, managing to keep from laughing until Theresa muttered,
“I hope Mr. Lindstrom doesn’t try to put Kim on the grill.”

Millie might prefer getting put on the grill herself over Theresa’s grilling her about Charles. It would be less uncomfortable
because she wouldn’t have to say anything. Because about herself and Charles, she had nothing to say.

C
harles scoured the grill with a wire brush, cleaning the scraps of meat and veggies off the metal rungs.

“You’ve done this before,” Millie commented on his practiced technique. He wasn’t the only one to stay to help this time.
Even though Theresa and Wally had left, and Kim as well (probably to go home and sit on an icepack), Millie’s family had stayed.

“I use the grill more than I use my stove,” Charles admitted. “Well, I did before I joined your class.”

“I’m glad you’re learning something.”

“You’ve taught me a lot,” he insisted.

But was he talking about domestic chores or something else? The way he looked at her, his blue eyes intense, led her to believe
it was something else.

Before she could consider what, Brigitte ran up and threw her arms around Millie. “I love your class, Grandma!” she said.
“It’s fun, and I love the food.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, honey. So I’m still cool?” That comment meant so much to Millie, like she had come a long way
from “old-fashioned.”

Brigitte nodded. “You’d be even cooler if we baked cookies next cooking class.”

Millie laughed at her granddaughter’s bribe. “Well, I don’t have cookies planned, but we’re going to cover something even
sweeter. Theresa, Kim, and I are going to teach you all how to make our favorite desserts.”

“Sweet!” Brigitte exclaimed.

“That’s the idea,” Millie agreed. “So you won’t miss the next class then?”

“Noway!”

“I’ll make sure I’m here, too,” Victoria spoke up from behind Brigitte. “Sounds like my kind of class.”

“You’re happy you joined?” Millie asked, knowing Charles had coerced his niece into the class. Maybe like Brigitte, he had
even exercised a little bribery, using his return to the practice as leverage in getting Victoria to join the bachelor’s survival
course.

But then what could she say about his manipulation when she’d done the same to her sons?

Victoria glanced toward where Mitchell stood next to his brother before she answered Millie’s question. “I’m most definitely
happy that I joined.”

“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.