She had no idea how to make what they'd ordered. She'd never even heard of half of it.
"Um, ma'am, miss... just give me a moment. I'll call Mr. Dickerson and ask how it's done." Marjorie's face burned with embarrassment.
Hildegarde's brow furrowed.
In that moment, she realized that without Wilfred, this entire household had fallen apart.
She couldn't sleep. Now she couldn't even eat breakfast.
But she would never admit he mattered.
"Wilfred, if you've got the nerve, don't ever come back. You want a divorce? Fine. Let's divorce."
"When you can't make it out there and come crawling back begging me to remarry you, I'll make you kneel at my feet and sing 'I Surrender' for twenty-four hours straight!"
Achoo!
Miles away at the Dickerson old house, Wilfred was woken by his internal clock—and immediately sneezed hard.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and couldn't help a bitter smile.
Five years in the Pruitt household. Every day, he'd woken at this hour to take care of the children, to take care of Hildegarde. Now it was second nature.
Even without setting an alarm, his body woke him right on schedule.
His phone rang.
He picked it up and checked the screen.
Marjorie.