Page 47 of Unwanted Vows

“Do I smell hazelnut coffee?” she asks. “I need a cup of courage.”

“Coming right up,” I say, getting out a bowl, a bag of self-rising flour, eggs, and powdered milk. I am determined to live up to my statement that I would pull my own weight in household chores. “Pancakes all right?”

She nods.

The coffee is done. I take down a mug that bears the legend, “Mom is not a Morning Person”, pour coffee into it, leaving enough room for liquid creamer, and hand it to Maddy.

“Pancakes are perfect,” she says, accepting the cup, then turning to the fridge to look for creamer. I take note that the creamer she chooses is also hazelnut flavored. Clearly my woman is fond of the sacred nut of wisdom – fitting, since she seems to have the clearest head on her shoulder of anyone I have met in the last few days.

As she turns, she makes a show of realizing that we are not alone. “Oh! Charles, Richard,” she exclaims. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I have their cups over here,” I say, forestalling what looks like an attempt to hand her cup to Charles. “That one is for you.”

She blushes, and gives me a shy smile. It looks so good on her! How was I ever stupid enough to leave her behind? I want to shake my younger self until his teeth rattle.

The blush and smile go straight to my nether regions, and for a moment I don’t care who is in the building. I want to take her straight back to bed.

I am brought back to my senses by her next comment, “Thank you for making pancakes. I always get the batter all over the kitchen.”

“Pancakes are my camp cooking specialty,” I say, sounding out the syllables in the last word in the English fashion.

Paul eases his way out of the pantry, still in pajamas. “Hi, Mom,” he says, “Hi everyone. Can I have coffee?”

Before I can speak, Maddy says firmly, “Not until you stop growing. Milk or juice for you. We have apple-kiwi,” she adds enticingly.

“Okay,” Paul says. “How come we have company?”

“You are an amazingly fortunate young man,” I say. “We are moving before you get a chance to put any holes in the wall.”

He looks a little blank for a moment, then grins at me. But then lapses into a frown. “There’s something wrong with that window, though.”

“Yes,” I say. “And that is why we are moving. Why don’t you help me set the table?”

“All right,” he says. “If it’s alright with you, Mom?”

Her eyes crinkle with good humor as she gets a sip of her very, very hazelnut coffee. “Please do,” she says. “Watching other people work is a novel experience.”

There was a rebuke in that statement somewhere, but at the moment I didn’t care. I had Maddy and Paul in the same room. The day was looking up.

As soon as everyone is seated, Charles taps his coffee mug with his spoon. “Before everyone starts with the crazy ideas for where Maddy and Andrew should live, I have the perfect place for them. The clinic has an attached apartment that was intended for the director or a resident. Since it was constructed during the riots a few years back, the walls are three feet thick, it has bullet proof glass windows, and a state-of-the-art security system. The biggest drawback is its size. It only has two bedrooms, and the living room and kitchen are small.

“Can I have Angel and Carousel there?” Paul piped up, looking a little worried.

“Yes,” Charles says, “I just have one question. How did you wind up with Carousel? I thought she was Cece’s cat.”

“Cece rescued her,” Paul says earnestly, clearly aware that he is speaking to Cece’s father. “But she already has six cats, and they don’t like Carousel. Anyway, Carousel likes me. And so does Angel.”

The three of us, me, Maddy and Paul all look at each other. Two bedrooms means that someone will have to share, or sleep on the couch. “It sounds good to me,” I say. “But the house is always the woman’s domain. What do you think, Maddy?”

“I think I want a long talk about that statement, but it sounds functional. What about school for Paul?” Maddy asks.

“Austin’s friend, Mrs. Hubbard, has agreed to expand her school. She has a friend who will assist her. We’ve not decided where to place the school, but the construction of the building will be similar to that of the clinic,” Charles says.

“Her credentials?” I ask.

“Impeccable from preschool through high school,” Richard says. “I had an independent company check. Austin vouches for her, but I wanted to be sure.”

“All right,” Charles adds, “Since that is settled, I’ll text the movers. At least you’ve not had time to accumulate enough items to fill a four bedroom home.”

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