Calendar Girl: October: Book 10 (7 page)

His stomach growled, interrupting my plan to attack him physically. “How about we move this to the kitchen. I’m certain Judi is whipping up something amazing right now.”

The thought of one of Judi’s special homemade breakfasts had me salivating. Begrudgingly, I lifted off my man and held out my hand. He looked at it and then at me before placing his warm palm within mine. Then he stood and pulled me upright into a hug.

“You amaze me.”

I snorted. “How so?”

“I tell you something vile, the thing eating at my insides, and somehow you take it on with grace and strength. I don’t know how you do it.” He shook his head and held my hand.

“Easy. I have you to fall back on. That’s part of being us, I think. The good, the bad, and even the ugly can end up being something beautiful if we deal with it together. Apart, we have no chance. Together, we can survive anything.”

He tugged my hand and started walking toward our home. “I believe you’re right.” He lifted our hands and kissed the top of my palm. “With you, Mia, anything is possible.”

“
L
et me get this straight
. You have to come up with the segment concept, write it, and tape it before next Friday?” Wes asked around a mouthful of homemade Belgian waffles.

“Mmm, Judi, you’re a goddess. These waffles are the bomb!” I called out, licked my fingers, and then took in the smiling face of my man. “Yeah, that’s right. Crazy, huh?”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaned back, and sipped his coffee. “It is, but not impossible. Do you have any thoughts on what you want to do for the first one?”

I shoveled in another bite of heaven on a plate, chewed, and swallowed before responding. “Well, since I don’t have a ton of time, I was thinking of doing the first episode on stay-at-home mothers.”

Wes’s brow furrowed. “Explain.”

Sitting on my foot and leaning forward, I traced patterns in the tabletop with my finger. “I don’t know exactly. But I was thinking about how all these moms pretty much give up everything for their kids, careers and hobbies, all to raise their children. That alone is beautiful. Many of them volunteer at the schools, run PTAs, Girl Scouts, play chauffeur to sports activities. I don’t know. It’s kind of a thankless job. I mean, obviously their kids appreciate them, and I imagine their husbands do too, but there’s such a stigma to the phrase
stay-at-home-mom,
you know?” I sipped my coffee and set it down. The wheels in my head were spinning like mad.

“Where did you come up with this?” Wes swirled his waffle in a ridiculous amount of syrup.
How about a little waffle with your syrup?
Instead of saying anything, I bit my tongue. He was doing his best to gain a little weight back, and if a load of syrup was going to do it, I was all for it.

I shrugged and continued eating. “You know, when I was with Max and Cyndi at their ranch, I watched how much Cyndi did. She cooked all the meals, did all the shopping, cleaned the entire house, took care of Isabel, all while pregnant. On top of that, she was a badass at crafts. She didn’t just sit Isabel in front of the TV all day. Of course she allowed her to watch a few shows and play some video games, but on top of that, she spent time making headbands and bows.”

“Headbands and bows? For what?”

I rolled my eyes. “Really? Are you that much of a guy?”

Wes chuckled and pointed to his sculpted chest and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah.”

“Okay, you’ve got a point.” I licked my lips and shamelessly took in all the eye-candy that was my half-dressed man. Yummo.

“Don’t look at me like that, or you won’t finish your breakfast or your idea. Now continue.”

I snickered and went back to what I was saying. “Anyway, she made hairbands and ties and bows, things that a little girl Isabel’s age loved to wear. And when Isabel went to preschool a couple days a week, she’d give them to the other parents as little gifts from Bell. It was cool. She did the crafts with her daughter and then made someone else’s day by giving them a gift. And when I went to that class with her to pick her daughter up, half the girls in there were wearing Cyndi’s unique gifts.”

“That’s really cool. But how are you going to make it interesting enough that the viewers would want to watch it?”

“I figured you could help me with that part.”

He sat back and looked out the window, pursing his lips. Man he was pretty. I knew men didn’t like to be thought of as pretty, but Wes just was. Sure he was handsome, hot, sexy as fuck, but he was also beautiful. I guess love does that to you. Makes you see everything about your mate through rose-colored glasses.

“What if you followed a mom around with a video camera?”

“Like a reality show?”

He nodded and the hamster started spinning the wheel.

“Find a mom you know who does something you consider beautiful. Interview her. Video her throughout her day, how much she does for everyone else, and show the beauty you’ve seen to the rest of the world. The people who watch the Dr. Hoffman show will eat it up. The odds are, a very large portion of that audience is stay-at-home moms. I’ll bet the producers eat the idea up.”

“Will you work on it with me?” I batted my eyelashes and held my breath. This was phase two in me getting him back into the field. No, it wasn’t exactly movie-making or writing a script, but it was in the same realm, for sure.

Wes smiled and placed his hand on top of mine. “If it would please you, I would.”

“It would. Very much. This is so awesome!” I stood up and danced around.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” He laughed.

I jumped around for a bit more and then hopped over to his lap and flopped down. “At least I’m your brand of crazy.”

“That is true. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

W
es was
one hundred percent correct about the good doctor. Drew Hoffman and his team of stuffy executives ate up the concept. They thought it was really unique. Which was great, since I was doing the filming that day with the mother I’d found. Oddly enough, that had been the hardest part. I didn’t know anyone in LA aside from Wes, his family, my old agent, and my Aunt Millie. I had absolutely no idea on Earth how to find a stay-at-home mother who would fit into this segment. It’s not like I had a kid with play dates, and I didn’t live close to Cyndi, my new sister-in-law, who could help.

Having a pity party for one, I went to the grocery store planning to indulge in a cupcake, or a half dozen, when I literally rammed into another woman’s cart. She had a baby tied to her chest and a toddler wailing in the cart. I apologized profusely but followed her around like a creeper. She wasn’t super young, maybe in her early thirties. Her brown hair was pulled back into an easy ponytail. A pair of yoga pants that were a bit too tight clung to her thighs, and a pair of wicked cool flip-flops adorned her feet. She was one of those women who loved bling on the tootsies. Fake diamonds sparkled as she clopped to the garden area of the store, the back of her shoes smacking against her heel as she went.

She surveyed the flowers and plants, testing the dirt, and then she did something that surprised me. She took her water bottle out of her ginormous purse, which might have actually doubled as a diaper bag, and squirted the contents into the pots. Then she plucked the yellow leaves out of the other ones, went to the water fountain, filled the bottle, and repeated the process on a few more.

“What are you doing?” I asked her while pretending to sniff some daises. You couldn’t really smell them, but it didn’t stop me from using them as my cover.

“These needed more water or they’d die. And these, if you don’t pluck the dead leaves off, it could harm the rest of the plant’s growth process.”

“How would you know that? Are you, like, a gardener or something?” I asked.

She shook her head and her cheeks pinked up. “Nope. Just a stay-at-home- mom.”

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. And we have a winner!

Those were the magic words. Instantly I perked up. “And, uh, do you have a green thumb?” With the level of familiarity I was taking with this woman, I expected her to balk, cringe, and then ignore me, but she didn’t. Actually, she seemed happy to be chatting about something of interest to her.

Again the rosy hue rose from her neck and flushed her cheeks at my question. “People have told me that my garden rivals that of Martha Stewart.” There was pride in her tone but no snobbery. That alone was hard to find in this town.

Hmmm. “Is that right? I’d love to see it.” I took a chance and spent the next thirty minutes talking to the woman about what I was working on. I told her that my production company would pay her a few thousand dollars to allow me to follow her around and tape her. Dr. Hoffman had sent over an email detailing the budget for my segment. I thought I was the budget but no, I had about ten thousand to work with if needed for wardrobe, props, and whatever else I might need.

Funniest thing was when I offered the mother some cash, I was taken aback by her answer. “Oh, you don’t have to pay me. If it helps other moms see how important raising their children and being the heart of the home is, I’m happy to help.”

Of course she would. But I knew that the Dr. Hoffman show made bank, and after having been to her house, I knew she could use a few extra grand in the kitty. I’d make sure that money appeared in her account shortly after we taped.

C
oolest thing
about this new job? Bring your boyfriend to work day! The smile on my face had to rival that of the Cheshire Cat. There was happiness, and then there was this. Abso-fucking-lutely ecstatic. I had trouble keeping my cool when we arrived at the home of Heidi and David Ryan at the butt crack of dawn. Wes said, if we were going to get her in her natural element, we needed to start when she started her day.

The home was a two-story stucco home painted a rich terracotta color. It sat all of twenty feet from the next stucco home quite similar to the Ryan’s only that one was sand-colored. All the homes in the cul-de-sac were varying shades of earth tones. Some were two levels, others one story, but they were definitely built as part of a master community with tract style design, perfect for families and suburban life.

We were in Cerritos, California, a good thirty to forty-five minute jaunt to downtown Los Angeles if traffic was playing nice. As I exited the car, a paperboy riding on a BMX bike tossed a paper, which landed perfectly on the Ryan’s front stoop.

I hooked a thumb at the kid, who continued to blow me away with his mad paper throwing skills. Wes laughed and hooked an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, city girl.”

“I’ll have you know I’m more of a desert and sin city girl.”

“They don’t deliver papers in Las Vegas? I think they do.”

Pursing my lips, I shrugged. “Never to my house or the houses in my neighborhood. Too poor. And yours magically appears on the table every morning. Do we have a paperboy on a bike?” My eyes lit up thinking about it.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’d have to ask Ms. Croft. She handles those things. but I’ve never seen a boy hoofing it up our hill to toss a paper over the gate,” he snorted

I pouted. He had a point. An annoying one.

Shaking off my annoyance with my know-it-all boyfriend, I knocked on the large chocolate-colored door. David Ryan opened it and frowned. His tie dangled unknotted around his neck, his pinstripe dress shirt was untucked, and his feet were bare. “Um, can I help you?” he asked.

I frowned. “We’re here about the segment. This is Heidi Ryan’s home, correct?” I asked, feeling a bit uncertain. Behind me, Wes kept his hand at my lower back. Behind him was Wayne, the cameraman. I joked that he reminded me of the Wayne on
Wayne’s World
that cult classic from the early nineties. He had long hair and wore a cap, a plaid shirt, and pair of cargo shorts. The concept of a dress code was totally lost on him.

Behind David’s obviously surprised face, Heidi appeared. “Mia! Hey, come on in. I thought you guys would come later.”

Dave opened the door more to let us in, and Wayne flipped on the camera.

“Not yet,” I warned. “Let me chat with them a moment, make sure we’re not intruding too much. This is still their home and their life.”

I informed the couple what the plan was and left Heidi to confirm everything was on the up and up with her husband. When they returned a few minutes later, he actually held himself a little straighter and smiled. “Sorry, about that. She mentioned something about this last night, and I was a bit out of sorts after a long day in court.”

“So are you cool with us starting now? Not everything will make it into the segment as it’s only fifteen minutes, but we definitely want to get some shots of Heidi doing her normal routine, if you don’t mind.”

He smiled, and it went all the way to his bright blue eyes. His dark hair and gray of his suit really offset those eyes and gave him a very Clark Kent quality.

Wayne flicked on the camera, and we entered the kitchen where three children sat around a table made for six. Heidi was up to her elbows with cooking eggs and bacon and buttering toast. The children didn’t seem at all fazed by the three newcomers.

“Wayne, get some video of her cooking and feeding the children, and then let’s leave them to their breakfast, okay?” Wes was already entering the zone, his tone all business and action.

Heidi flittered around the kitchen in her robe, dishing out breakfast, feeding the baby a bottle and some type of thing she referred to as a biter biscuit, and shuffled away. Her movement was like poetry in motion. A practiced sonata. Seemingly out of nowhere, she prepared two lunches, one for her son who was school-age and another for her husband. Next to the lunch she placed the boy’s backpack and school necessities. Then it was a to-go coffee for David who left his plate on the table after scarfing down his meal to rush upstairs and finish getting ready.

Once father and son left together, Heidi proceeded to clean up the entire breakfast. After all that, she ate only a slice of toast. A meal fit for a king for her family, yet she only had time enough for a dry slice of bread and a sip of coffee.

“Gotta get Lynndy and Lisa ready for a playdate and Gymboree.” She gestured to her toddler who I surmised was about three and the baby only six months old or so.

For the rest of the day, we followed Heidi around. Her life was exhausting. She definitely did not give me the grand idea of wanting to bust out a bunch of mini-me's and start my own basketball team. Wes, on the other hand, was enamored with her, loved how efficient and selfless she was. He made sure that the best shots were captured—the sweet moments between mother and child, husband and wife—with an excitement I had previously only hoped he’d have today.

When we went back to the house after picking up her son from school, she set about doing homework with him. The math alone for a third grader was outrageous. Nothing like what I’d had at his age. Thank God I had someone like Wes who could take care of these types of things with our future children.

Wait. What? Did I just think about spawning a child with my movie-making surfer and not exactly hate the idea? Oh, Jesus. I was in deep. Kids had never entered the equation when I’d been with other men previously. At all. Based on the gleam in Wes’s eyes as he held baby Lynndy, kids were definitely part of his future plans. Hell, if I didn’t watch out, he’d have me married, barefoot, and pregnant before the year was up.

Wes looked up as I was watching him play with the baby. His eyes were the color of the most exquisite emeralds. Yeah, babies made him happy. Shit. I’d give him a kid just to have him look at me with that same love and wanting.

I shook my head and got back in the game. This type of discussion needed to be had after a couple rounds in the bedroom, while we were drunk and after we were feeling all romantic and cheesy.

Finally, after the kids went down for a nap and the eldest took off on his bike, Heidi meandered to her backyard. When she opened the slider, I was stunned stupid. It was like a magical hidden away secret garden complete with little angel statues, a babbling small brook, luscious greenery everywhere and flowers… My God… The flowers were in pots in sections of the yard and by the trees. They were all different colors and varietals. I lost count of how many different areas there were.

“Wow.” Wes blew out a slow breath. “This is incredible.”

Heidi heard every word and beamed as bright as the glint off the ocean at high noon. “Thank you. Let me give you a tour. It’s shaped in an oval so you can walk around it. I know it’s not huge or anything but”—she shrugged—“it’s what we can afford, and I love it.”

Wayne was filming as I walked next to her, asking her about her methods, why she’d chosen the different plants so that the segment wouldn’t be super boring. She lifted up a big basket that held gardening gloves and clippers. There was an extra pair of gloves next to them, which she handed to me, and I promptly put them on. We moved around the circle path and came to a corner that was dense with roses. Every beautiful color you could think of.

“This is amazing, Heidi.” I inhaled the flowers’ mingled scents, breathing the aroma as far into my lungs as possible.

Heidi showed me the ones to cut and where so that we had a couple dozen long-stemmed roses. Then we went to another section and clipped some smaller flowers she said were annuals. One was a vibrant purple she called a “Spirit Merlot Spider Flower.”

“Pretty complex name for such a dainty thing.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

The baby monitor on her hip squawked, and she stopped, lifted it to her ear, and we both waited. I held my breath. I didn’t know why. It just seemed like the thing to do. When no additional sound came, she clipped the walkie-talkie looking thing back on her hip and continued.

“These are Bells of Ireland.” She clipped four long sections where they stood approximately two feet tall. “See the chartreuse color?”

I nodded.

“It will look awesome with the pink and yellow roses. And smell?” She held the plant close to my nose.

A lovely hint of mint teased my senses. “Smells awesome. Like mint.”

After walking through the entire space, we brought our baskets full of what I thought was a ton of greenery. She set them on the kitchen counter and taught me and the audience how to correctly snip the thorns and where to cut for the longest chance of keeping the blooms alive. She went on about the benefits of treating the water and vases. However, what she did next made me see that this segment was really going to hit home.

From a long drawer she pulled out multi-colored wrap. Then she took the rubber bands she’d removed from her store-bought veggies and wrapped the flowers in the colored paper and rubber bands. Then she took some ribbon and covered the ugly bands.

“What are you going to do with them?” I asked, thinking perhaps I’d get to take some of these beauties home to Ms. Croft. She’d love them!

“Well, every week I take a few bouquets I’ve made to the convalescent hospital down the street. There are several patients there who don’t have much family, and a simple arrangement of flowers could go a long way towards making their week bright.

I’d met a lot of wonderful people this past year, but none quite like Heidi Ryan.

At the end of the day, I turned to Heidi where we stood in front of her home. Her husband had just come home from work. He pulled the woman he very obviously loved into the comfort of his arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They nuzzled for the cameras, which was awesome, and then he lovingly asked what was for dinner. To which she replied, “Whatever you’re making!”

Laughing, I turned to the camera where Wayne held it a few steps from me. “Thank you, Heidi Ryan, for opening your home and sharing a look into the daily routine of a stay-at-home-mom I think deserves the title of Super Woman and for walking us through your stunning garden. The work you do in your home with your family and in your community should be commended. We here at the Dr. Hoffman show applaud you. I’m Mia Saunders, and I’ll see you next week on another round of
Living Beautiful
.