It's the Thought That Counts

         It’s the Thought That Counts

   Millie carefully laid the last strip of pastry across the apple slices which had been meticulously arranged in the bottom crust of the pie. Then she placed the tin on a baking sheet and slowly slid it into the oven.

   Okay, I need to check that at five o’clock.

   Writing it down in her notebook, her attention shifted to the top of the range. Each burner had a pan on top of it. The plan was coming together perfectly. She could hardly wait to see the look on his face when he got home from work.

   Looking again at the schedule, she noticed it was time to start the water for the pasta and the broccoli. After setting those dials, the meatballs needed to be turned. The smell of the Italian sausage was only intensifying her hunger. They looked nice and browned, so she turned down the heat and put a cover on the pan. Next, the sauce was bubbling and required stirring. Still, everything was progressing right on time.

   The phone rang and she saw her mother’s number on the screen.

   Mom, I really don’t have time right now. Why couldn’t you call later tonight?

   “Hi, Mom. I can‘t…”

   “Hi, sweetie. I just called to wish you a happy anniversary. Are you going to do anything special? You know, your father used to surprise me all the time. Once, he booked a reservation at a fancy…”

   The one-sided conversation continued as Millie began to fret. If she didn’t end it soon, everything would be off schedule.

   How can I cut her off? She’s been so lonely since Dad passed away.

   So, she continued to listen half-heartedly as her Mom’s voice droned on. Trying her best to multi-task, she grabbed the bowl of broccoli and dumped it in the steamer insert. At the same time, her phone almost slid from between her shoulder and ear. She also managed to get the pasta into the rapidly boiling water without losing her hold on the phone.

   I am so glad that I had both of those things ready for the pans. I’m only a few minutes behind.

   Then her mind exploded with joy as she placed her phone on the counter and pressed the speaker button.

   That should work for now.

   “Did you just put me on speakerphone? You know I hate being on that. It’s so impersonal!”

   “I’m sorry, Mom. I just have a lot going on right now. I need my hands free for cooking.”

   “Why didn’t you say so? I could have called later tonight. It’s not like I have a social life.”

   Great! Another shovel-full of guilt for the pile.

   “It’s not a problem, Mom. I can listen while I work. I had everything laid out. I just have to watch my times.”

   “Nonsense. I’ll call back later. You just work on fixing that young man a good meal. Keep him well fed and you’ll keep him happy. It worked for me. Bye.”

   She didn’t seem too upset. I suppose I’ll find out later for sure though.

   Just as she started to scan the list, her phone rang again.

   My boss! What does he want?

   “Hello, sir. Is something wrong?”

   “Yes, something’s wrong. Where is the Johnson contract?”

   “I put it on your desk yesterday, right beside your phone.”

   “You must not have because it’s not here.”

   “Let me check my briefcase.”

   Hustling into the small office off the front room, she flipped the latches and tore out the papers inside. There, much to her dismay was the paperwork.

   “Sir, I’m so sorry. I must have picked it up with the things I was going to work on tomorrow. I can bring it in sometime in the morning.”

   “I need that contract on my desk first thing in the morning. No excuses!”

   “But, sir…”

   Her hope of being able to lounge in bed in the morning having been shattered, another important thing came to mind.

   “The food!” she cried, scrambling back to the kitchen.

   Looking at the clock, she could see that the pasta and broccoli had been cooking for over twenty minutes. Her gaze then shifted down to the stove where the pasta sauce was bubbling away like a volcano, splattering the liquid over every nearby thing. Turning off the three burners, she then pulled the lid off of the meatballs. Since they hadn’t been turned in a while, the bottoms were very crispy. She turned that burner off as well and went into the front room. Sitting on the couch, tears filled her eyes.

   Five minutes later, Mike came through the door. Seeing his wife crying on the couch, he rushed over and sat down beside her.

   “What’s wrong, honey?”

   “Everything’s wrong.”

   “It can’t be all that bad can it? Tell me what happened.”

   She spent the next ten minutes recapping the events that had ruined her day, never once looking up at him and continuing to sob.

   “Millie, look at me.”

   She looked up at him and he started to laugh.

   “It’s not funny! I wanted our first anniversary to be special.”

   “I’m sorry. It’s just…your face.”

   “What’s funny about my face? You always tell me how pretty I am.”

   “Come look in the mirror.”

   When she caught sight of herself, she couldn’t help but laugh. Mascara had made her look like she was dressed for a Halloween party.

   “Millie, look at me.”

   “No. You’ll just laugh again.”

   “I won’t. Please look at me.”

   She turned her head towards Mike, looking into his deep blue eyes. He quickly placed a hand over his mouth.

   “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

   “I’m trying, really I am. It’s just so…”

   “I know.”

   “Look, it’s okay. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. This will be a memory we can laugh at for years to come. Every anniversary we can think about this night and realize that probably no other couple ever had a one-year celebration like this one! I know you worked very hard to do something nice for me. It‘s the thought that counts.”

   “But I wanted this to be special. Now it’s just a big mess.”

   “Tell you what, let’s clean this up and go out to eat. We’ll put the food away and do the dishes later.”

   At that moment, their faces both froze with shock. Something was burning!

   “The pie!” Millie cried. “Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse.”

   They got the pie out of the oven and moved it to the cooling rack.

   “Millie, you go get cleaned up and I’ll deal with this stuff.”

   She started to protest but he took off her apron and put it on himself. Then he spun her around and marched her to the bathroom. When she returned to the kitchen, Mike had taken care of the food and rinsed and stacked the dishes.

   As he rolled down his sleeves he asked, “Where do you want to go?”

   “You choose,” she replied. “This was going to be your special dinner.”

   “I refuse to choose. You’ve had a rough day and I want the last part of it to be special for you.”

   “The only way I’ll choose is if we go to Farina’s.”

   “Bound and determined to have me eat spaghetti and meatballs, eh?”

   “You better be joking.”

   “I am. I know it’s where we had our first date. I think that’s a perfect choice.”

   “I have to take care of a couple of things first if that’s okay.”

   She went into the office and grabbed some papers.

   “What are those?”

   “I need to drop these off at the office tonight so I don’t have to do it in the morning,” she said with a flirtatious smile.

   Returning her grin, he asked, “What was the other thing?”

   She pulled out her phone and turned on the mute setting. Then she typed a message.

   Dear Mom, I’m sorry but I won’t be available for the rest of the night. I will call you sometime tomorrow morning -- not early -- and we’ll go somewhere for brunch. Love you.