Page 45 of Lover
“Nana Helen, we don’t want to sleep.” Sean, the more precocious of the two, said with his doe brown eyes pleading.
“Well, you must do,” she said briskly, though not unkindly, motioning for them to follow. After giving us each a goodnight kiss, the children took Ms. Dillard by the hand and she began to lead them out. I heard as she departed her promises of a story from Grandpa Laurence and cake before bed.
“The woman’s gone soft,” I said happily. Being a surrogate grandmother was a role that fit her well.
“Tell that to the four new maids she hired last month.” Millie tilted her head up, and I bent mine to kiss her. She smelled of roses and fresh powder. Longing stirred in me.
She caught the look in my eye as we parted and raised a brow.
“Be careful, Professor Hughes,” she murmured.
“I am never careful,” I teased, then nodded in the direction the children had left.
“It’s nearly eight; I thought the boys were already asleep.”
“So did we. Imagine our surprise when we went to check on them, and they weren’t in their room.”
“It’s all the excitement, and they’re not used to sleeping here,” I said, glancing about, admiring the floral arrangements straight from the new greenhouse that had been built in Willowfield’s gardens two years prior, much more elaborate than the one before, large enough to house all the teas, ladies luncheons, and floral classes that went on there throughout the year.
“Do you regret it?” Millie asked, sliding her arm into mine.
I smiled, gave a small chuff of laughter.
When Millie and I had recovered from what we referred to as “the ordeal,” I brought in an attorney to help draft a contract for the sale of the house to the university. They had plans to open aboys’ school, and Willowfield was all the space they would ever need.
Though both our hearts were tied to the estate, neither of us could stand the thought of living there any longer. We wanted a fresh start. However, just as we were about to sign the papers, Millie threw down her pen, yanked mine out of my fingers, and declared that she couldn’t go through with it.
“Why don’t you open a hotel?” The lawyer had suggested after listening to us argue about the merits and disadvantages of staying at length.
“A hotel?” The thought had never crossed my mind.
“The town is growing,” the man said, “And Willowfield is famous. People are already coming into this area from Boston all the time to see the mills and orchards, get out of the rat race and back to nature.”
“What a wonderful idea!” Millie had turned to me with a light in her eye that I knew meant she’d set her sights on something. Callum, opening Willowfield for people to stay in means we wouldn’t have to give it all up. It could continue to bring all the joy it did before. We can bring back the celebrations, invite the town, and think of the jobs it would create!”
Intrigued by the idea, I agreed to give it a go, with only some trepidation.
Ms. Dillard managed the day-to-day operations of Willowfield now, and Millie gave tours, regaling the guests with all the spooky, fanciful histories of the house. She also worked side by side with Lottie, organizing social events, festivals, dinners, and celebrations, the most joyful of them having been the long overdue wedding for Helen and Laurence. I’d walked my dear friend down the aisle myself, handing her to Doctor Hannigan with all the pride of a son.
Millie and I built our own smaller and more manageable home in the back corner of the grounds. There were nochandeliers or wardrobes. After the birth of our sons, we complicated our lives by adding two insufferable hounds named Commander and Tato, who chased the birds through the orchards and ran circles around the children. To complete the chaos, an old Tomcat, who quite hated me unless I was sitting by the fire, adopted our family. He spent his days mousing the estate, then came home at night to indulge in too much cream and Millie’s endless affection. To my undying amusement, Brody had named him Alice.
The boys were growing up the same way I had, side by side with Willowfield, and though they were still too young to roam free, someday they would go where they pleased, climb the trees, swim in the pond, make a general nuisance of themselves. We’d already took early precautions and constructed a high wall in the west of gardens to prevent wandering feet from finding their way into the woods and to the ravine. Separately, we demolished the old gardener’s cottage, simply because neither Millie nor I could stand to look at it.
As for me, I’d sold the majority of my family’s business to Burt, keeping only a place on the board. Millie helped me complete my research, once begun as a hopeful distraction, and the resulting paper had earned me an invitation back to my old position at the local college, which I accepted gratefully, and an opportunity to speak on the psychology of myth at a Harvard symposium. Millie had joined me, at first to the chagrin of the tenured establishment, then to their awe, as the presence of a female lecturer drew an unexpected crowd.
With our third child on the way and Millie thriving, I had no interest in dwelling on what could have been.
“I have never regretted a single moment,” I said, and bent to kiss her again, but as our lips met she winced, a hand flying to her belly. I took her by the arm, alarmed, watching pain crease her brows.
“What is it? Millie, are you…”
“Calm yourself, darling.” She said, brushing off my worries. “It’s only the baby moving. They enjoy putting their feet in my backbone. I’m alright. I hear Lottie and Burt greeting guests, so go on to the hall. I’ll be there shortly. I want to check that the boys are in bed, as they should be.
Skeptical, I let her go, but planned on requiring us both to turn in directly following the stroke of midnight.
An hour passed, and Willowfield was a beacon of good cheer, filled with guests and people from town, all come to bid farewell to 1933 and welcome in the new year surrounded by friends.
I’d finished a rousing conversation with Mr. Dempsey that ended with an exciting business proposal—hiring his small fleet of vehicles to serve the guests of Willowfield. Feeling good about the agreement, and warmed by the happy expression the man wore as he left me to find his wife, I began to search for my own. It soon became clear that Millie still hadn’t returned. I was concerned by the unusual absence and was about to excuse myself to find her, when Hannigan appeared next to me, beaming.
