Page 58 of My Dearest Mackenzie

“No way. You’re shitting me. Here I was, feeling sorry for your ass, and you keep this from me.”

Sitting back up, I ran a hand through my hair and blew out a long breath. “I didn’t plan to commemorate the day. But this woman, the one I’ve been seeing, used Google to trick me. Planned a dinner…got a recipe, and all this crap I didn’t deserve.”

“Whoa, a woman you’re seeing and I didn’t know? Google? What? She didn’t know your birthday and surprised you? I remember a time that a b-day surprise went very poorly. Back up and start from the beginning…you know I’m your shrink.”

Teddy was somewhat right; he’d stepped in when I needed him most and wouldn’t admit I needed help. I could’ve told Teddy I was on my way to play eighteen holes, but he wouldn’t have cared, so I filled him in on Frances.

“What you’re telling me is this blond terror has seeped so far into your heart that she surprised you with a birthday celebration, cooking for you from some secret family recipe, all the while doing a deep dive into your family history, including your mom and some guy your grandmother was in love with?”

“That’s about it.”

Teddy banged some surface with his hand and yelled, “God damn, I knew it would happen. Last time a woman surprised you with your birthday, you went AWOL. Frances—winner, winner, chicken dinner. I gotta get out there and meet this woman. Good thing I retired.”

“I’ll keep you posted. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I issued the warning, but I knew Teddy wouldn’t obey. After playing in the League, he’d coached football in Arizona before retiring and day-trading and investing in real estate. He’d done well for himself, and I’d always watched his success with pride.

“See you soon, birthday boy. I have to go tell Cassandra all this. She will not believe Mackenzie Miller is shacking up. Tell her we are heading to New York,” Teddy said boisterously, knocking me from an emotional moment.

“Ted—”

Of course he disconnected the call before I could argue.

“Like this?”

Later, Frances wiggled her ass against me while I helped her hold a seven iron.

I’d played eighteen on my lonesome. It was by design. I wasn’t up for the company or the competition; I needed time to think.

That was until Frances texted and all thoughts of being by myself flew south. I wanted to see her, so what did I do? I sent a car to get her and bring her out to Westchester to hit golf balls.

“Actually, more like this,” I said while helping Frances correct her posture. Repositioning her hands on the club, I shadowed her movements as she swung.

She might need some professional lessons, I thought, but I forced myself to not mention that her ball didn’t go very far.

“How about a drink?” Frances finally suggested, frustrated with her performance.

“Let’s go,” was all I said. “How was your day?” I asked her over my mule and her glass of cabernet.

“Sunday, so no work, as you know. And!” Her whole face lit up as she said the one-syllable word.

“And?” I inquired, needing to know what had the beautiful creature so excited.

“I made another recipe. Connie also talked me through a dessert she learned to make with Milly!”

Taking a slug of my mule, I waited to hear about the dessert, thinking I’d probably eaten it a million times and never known the significance.

“I’m not sure I did it any justice, but Connie said your grandma made a mean apple cake. Those were her words. She said she taught Milly how to make fruitcake. Can you imagine? And Milly taught her this apple cake.” I couldn’t resist my hand slipping over Frances’s fingers. “Fruitcake. Isn’t that crazy? Did she ever make it?”

My head shook. “No, I can’t say she ever made a fruitcake, but she did make apple cake. Twice a year. Always for the Jewish holidays and usually once more, around Thanksgiving.”

“It’s good. It may not be as dense as it should be, but I can give you a piece when you drop me off.”

“You perfected the soup, so I’m sure the cake is perfect.”

“You know what? I need to spend a few days with Connie and catalog all these recipes. Write them down, put them in a Word document, save them!”

The need to be closer to Frances overtook me and I leaned in and kissed her cheek, breathing in her scent. Today it was lilies mixed with excitement. I wanted it all for myself.

“Would that be okay? Me, making a keepsake of Milly’s recipes?”

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