wet, she had to have him now…She lifted her hips…He thrust inside her…Her head was going to burst…Oh, God.
* * *
Chapter 7
* * *
Millie smiled over at her Grandmother. “Can I help with dinner?”
“Ask your grandfather.”
Finn lazed back in a big recliner, which matched the one grandpa sat in. Finn told her how grandpa had found him in his skivvies that morning after they made love, only two days ago and they’d apparently formed a connection. “You do all the cooking, Henry?”
“I do.” He gazed fondly at his wife. “Enid never had much interest in the kitchen.”
“How’d you manage it when you were both working?”
They said together, “Take out.”
“And when Millie came along, your mother stayed home with her for a while, and cooked for us then. We managed. Do you cook, Finn?”
“His idea of a home-cooked meal is takeout from a nearby restaurant.” That Millie could tease him like this was a gift.
“She’s right. However,” he said peering over at her grandpa. “I might like a few lessons from you, Henry.”
“You’re on.” He glanced at his watch. “Come on out, I’ll teach you how to make salad.”
“You don’t just throw lettuce into a bowl?”
“Hush your mouth, boy.”
Their conversation trailed off as they reached the kitchen.
Grandma turned to her. “You care for him, don’t you, dear?”
“I think I’m in love with him.”
“I think you are, too.”
“He’s a complicated man.”
“Funny about those things. I used to say the same about Henry back when we were your age.”
Now that flabbergasted Millie. But it portended well for hers and Finn’s relationship that in fifty years life would be smooth sailing for them.
Dinner was lively. As an Octoberfest meal, grandpa had made sauerbraten, beef marinated in vinegar and simple spices. The meat had slow cooked all day. He’d prepared potato pancakes, carrots and cauliflower. And they drank beer with their meal, probably a first for Finn.
“Hmm,” Finn said. “The meat melts in my mouth.”
“The potato pancakes are so light, Grandpa.”
After dinner, Millie and Finn cleaned up in the kitchen. He swiped a taste of frosting from the German Chocolate Cake she’d made for dessert. “Stop that. Clear the table.”
“Yes, dear.”
Before he did, he stole a kiss from behind then patted her on the rear.
“Frisky, aren’t you?”
“You’ll see, later.”
When they left the house, they stood out in the cold October night and watched Scout do his business, then the three of them climbed the steps. Once inside, he spun her around. Ignoring them these days, Scout wandered off to find a toy, and Finn pressed her up against the wooden door. He kissed her searingly. “Here?” she asked.
“Yep, babe. Right here.”
* * *
“Cold?” Finn asked the next night, when he and Millie walked out of Fitzgerald’s to canvas three blocks with petitions.
“No, I’m not.”
He nonetheless tucked her scarf closer around her neck. “You shivered.” He gave her a peck on the nose. “And not in a way I cause.”
“Did I? I feel fine.”
They headed down the steps to one of the small apartments right next door. Finn knocked. When an older woman dressed in a matching blue shirt and pants opened the door, she smiled broadly. “Hello, Finn. Millie.”
Mrs. Murray had been a bookseller in her time and her husband had had a successful business, which was why she could afford to live in this area. “How’s the store?”
“Plugging along.” This from Finn.
She gestured to the petition. “What’s that for?”
He explained to her their issues. He could hear the concern in his own voice.
“Lord in heaven, I don’t want fancy condos next door.”
“It could go even further,” Finn told her. “Did you get any rental notice from Markham Management?”
“No.” She pulled her glasses up from her nose to her eyes. “Where do I sign?”
She did her part. “If you need any phone canvassing, Finn, call on me.”
“Will do.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Murray.” Millie squeezed her arm. “Come over soon and we’ll take a new look at our rare books together again. I’ve added some things.”
The older women got a kick out of seeing literature she knew as a girl selling for so much more money now than then.
When they got back on the street, Finn drew her close. He smelled like the October night. “You’re sweet, Millie Morrison.”
“Gee thanks.” She linked arms with him.
They visited more dwellers like Mrs. M, and also two restaurants, three delis, an apartment complex where they knocked on all the doors, and a small café. Finn stopped then. “Want coffee?” They both drank it at night.
She scrunched her nose. “I’ll have hot