“I took the liberty of writing down my thoughts on what we can offer this woman when we find her,” Fran said. Seeing that Addison was about to open the folder, Fran reached over and pinched it closed. “I have a feeling you’re not going to like what’s in there, and since I don’t want to get into another shouting match, read it over the weekend, and we can talk about it on Monday. Okay?”

“Sure,” Addison said, tucking it under her arm. “I’ll read it in my wine cellar. That way, I’ll have plenty of alcohol to numb the pain.”

***

Sighing at the sight of her disorganized kitchen, Joanna Sheppard pushed aside a pile of junk mail and opened the pizza box. About to grab some plates, she stopped when she heard a knock at the door. Trotting over, she pulled it open.

“Millie!” Joanna said, stepping back so the woman could enter. “What are you doing here?”

“My market had a sale on chicken, so I made that casserole your father likes so much. I hope you don’t mind,” Millie said, walking to the kitchen.

Following in quick pursuit, Joanna said, “You know I don’t, but honestly, Millie, you live on the other side of town. You don’t need to bring us food. We do okay.” Seeing Millie quickly glance around the kitchen, Joanna added, “It’s messy, not dirty.”

“I never said it was,” Millie said, taking off her jacket. “It’s just that I know how hard you work, and I do love to cook.”

“I used to love to cook. That is, when I had time,” Joanna said, opening a cabinet to get some plates.

“Are you working that much?”

“I thought I was going to have a break, but the washer broke yesterday.”

“Oh, I see,” Millie said as she removed the cover of the casserole. Filling the first plate, she handed it to Joanna. “Why don’t you take this up to your father, and I’ll get you one, too.”

“Thanks,” Joanna said, breathing in the aroma of the home-cooked meal. “Dad is going to love this. Be right back.”

A short time later Joanna returned to the kitchen to find Millie up to her elbows in soapy water at the sink. “And I suppose you love to clean, too, eh?”

Looking over her shoulder, Millie said, “Actually, I do. It’s very gratifying, don’t you think? One minute a dish is dirty and the next, it’s clean.”

“I suppose so, but only when it’s your own dishes you’re washing,” Joanna said, folding her arms across her chest. “Please, Millie, you don’t have to do that. I’m not working tonight, so I have plenty of time to get this place in order.”