“Ma’am, I need to talk with Doc.”
“L?kare som ?ter middag.” She flicked her hand at me, shooing me away.
I tried to look past her. “Doc,” I hollered, “it’s Honey Lovett.”
Millie wrinkled her brow. “Middag!” She jabbed a finger toward her mouth, made like she was chewing, then stopped and gawked at me. “Lovett. Book Woman?”
“Book? Book woman, yes.” I put a finger on my chest and tapped. “Book woman, Honey Lovett.”
“B?cker,” she said dreamily, pulling me inside.
Doc came into the foyer with a napkin tucked into his collar. “Honey,” he said, surprised. “Come in and join us. We’re just having dinner. Millie, set the child a plate.”
Millie turned and hurried down the hall, her words floating in the air.
“I need to speak with you about Mama.”
“I just got back in town. Come into the dining room; we’ll talk about it after dinner.” He took my coat and hung it on his ornate hall tree. Doc gestured for my gloves.
I looked down the hall past him toward Millie, hesitating, not wanting her to see my naked hands.
Doc picked up on my thoughts and said, “As the wife of a doctor, she understands we’re all different, child. And better for it. Come join us. Millie’s fixed a wonderful feast.”
Relieved, I pulled my gloves off and he placed them on the entry table. It was hard not to stare at everything in his beautiful home, to sneak glances at the large dark-paneled rooms we passed.
In the dining room, Millie set a fancy china plate in front of me, with polished silverware on linen, neatly on the side.
She sat down beside me. “？ta.”
Millie picked up her fork and pointed to the lavish foods in front of us. Then she snatched the linen napkin off my plate and dropped it onto my lap.
It was fine fabric and I hesitated, not wanting to soil it.
Doc took his seat across from me. “Help yourself, Honey, fresh greens, delicious pork, and Millie’s wonderful raggmunk.”
Millie beamed at her husband, then passed me a plate of what looked like pancakes and jam. “？t. Du ?r f?r tunn.”
Doc said to Millie, “Reta inte,” then to me, “She’s concerned about you not eating enough, and I told her not to tease you.” He cut off a bite-sized piece of his pork.
Millie passed me a bowl of food, and I served myself a little out of each dish, not realizing how hungry I was. If she noticed the worry flushed blue on my hands, she didn’t say anything.
It was one of the best meals I’d ever eaten, even finer than any of the food at the Regas Brothers’ restaurant in Knoxville. “It’s delicious, ma’am. Much obliged.”
Millie grinned widely, seeming to understand. But when I pushed myself back from the table, she shook her head. “Efterr?tten kommer,” she said standing.
Doc took a sip of his water and then said, “She’s asking you to stay. Don’t move.”
In a minute, his wife came back with two generous, fluffy cinnamon buns and set them down in front of us. As I took a bite, the buttery, sweet confection melted in my mouth. I patted the napkin over my mouth and nodded my appreciation to Millie.
Millie smiled back, pleased, and began stacking dirty plates. When I stood to help, she said “Efterr?tten” again and wagged a finger at me.
Doc said, “Millie will fuss you out of her kitchen if you try and help. I’ve tried too many times, and my dear bride chases me away.”
“How did you meet Millie, Doc?”