Joyce smiled and went to work fixing lunch. She finished up as Beryl was burping Ruthie on her shoulder. “Would you ask Kyle if he’s going to eat at his desk?”
“Sure.” Beryl went toward his room.
Joyce took hers and Beryl’s plates to the table, leaving the spot at the head of the table empty, in case Kyle didn’t work through lunch. He didn’t. They all ate together, Ruthie nearby in her swing, Bunny keeping watch for any dropped bits.
Beryl helped her clean up afterwards, then she went to fold some towels. She had a load of Ruthie’s laundry to do, but Joyce had told her she needed the machines first. Those curtains had to be done.
Joyce, apron firmly tied in place, gathered her supplies and a stepladder, and headed into Mitch’s office.
She took down the curtains, taking them outside for a quick shake, then popping them into the washer on delicate. She returned to the office. Dusting was next.
The bookcases needed everything taken off them so the shelves could be wiped down. Most of the knickknacks needed cleaning with a damp cloth as well.
It was tedious work, slow going, but worth doing. Didn’t require much brain power, either, so she could think.
Her thoughts turned to Harper. Joyce hoped she was getting on all right with things. She was proud of how Mitch had stepped up to help. That was the Mitch she remembered. The person he’d been before Jeanie had passed, bless her.
She moved books and other items, wiped them down, wiped the shelf, replaced the items, over and over.
She was thinking she ought to check the laundry when Beryl came in. “Your curtains are done. Should I put them in the dryer?”
Joyce, up on the stepladder, held onto the bookcase and looked over her shoulder. “Yes, but make sure it’s set to Delicates.”
“I will. Then I’m going to start on the scones, since Ruthie’s napping. Two batches, you think? One for Kyle, one for the girls?”
“That’d be lovely.”
Beryl gave her a smile and a nod before disappearing.
Joyce went back to cleaning. Maybe Beryl could do those scones for one of Lucas’s shows. She could do two sweet versions and Joyce could do her cheddar bacon savory scones. They weren’t traditional, but they were very good.
She’d have to see what Lucas thought about that. Maybe scones weren’t enough? Doing three kinds felt as though it should be. They could talk about how scones were usually eaten, with jam and clotted cream. That should definitely be enough.
Joyce had all sorts of ideas for shows. At first, she hadn’t been so sure. She’d been downright terrified, if she was beinghonest. Now that she’d seen all the kind comments people had left, she realized what a silly old bird she’d been.
People loved them. Daft as that might be, it was true. Lucas had texted them just the other day to say how well that episode was doing. It was very encouraging.
It had gotten her dreaming again. Thinking about the future in a way she hadn’t before. Which wasn’t to say she wasn’t happy. She loved her job. Looking after Mitch and now Kyle and Ruthie was very fulfilling. She had no plans to leave. Not a one.
But that didn’t mean new thoughts hadn’t crept into her head. Thoughts like the possibility of a cookbook. One she and Beryl would do together, of course. Was that too outlandish an idea? Lucas had cookbooks.
Surely, if things went well for them and Lucas supported it, a cookbook might happen.
Wouldn’t that be something? A cookbook. In her dreams, she and Beryl were on the front cover surrounded by a host of dishes they’d prepared. Cakes and puddings on Beryl’s side, savory things on Joyce’s.
Oh, she was well out of her mind, but she didn’t care. It was fun to have such thoughts. Nothing wrong with it at all.
But if it actually came true…
She accidentally inhaled a little dust and sneezed, nearly losing her balance on the stepladder. She got down, put her cleaning things aside, and found a tissue. She blew her nose. She went to the windows and looked out over the river.
It was a lovely day. Maybe they’d take Ruthie to the pool again this evening, if Kyle was busy. Or maybe they’d just put their suits on and sit on the steps with a nice glass of something.
Joyce smiled. She was already living like a celebrity. She chuckled, her gaze turning to the boats further down. The ones with the cameramen hoping to catch sight of Jack. Her smile vanished.
Scoundrels. Jack was a lovely fellow. They ought to leave him alone. She wished she knew a way to get rid of them for good.
She huffed out a breath. “Blighters,” she muttered.
