Mike hung up the phone. “Well, that’s gonna cost more than what we have to get those windows replaced.”
Peter sighed. “And Babbitt will probably throw us out when he sees them.”
Mike shook his head, trying not to think about that.
Micky looked up from trying to glue some of the broken glass together. “After all this time, all the work we did to stay here . . . and it’s all for nothing.”
“Well, at least Millie’ll be taken care of.” Mike sighed. “Larry’ll be here any minute.”
Micky stood up, tossing the glass into the garbage. “Yeah. Guess we’d better get stuff ready for them. Might as well make them happy.”
Larry arrived, and his eyes widened as he took in the damage.
“Sorry about that,” Peter said apologetically. “We had an, um . . . accident.”
He smiled compassionately. “Is Millie ready?”
“I’ll go see,” Mike said. He tapped gently on the downstairs bedroom door. “Millie?”
“I can’t do this,” she whispered as she opened it.
“Do what?”
“I’ve not been this nervous since my wedding day!”
“You’ll be fine,” Mike said soothingly. “It’s just dinner, after all.”
She took a deep breath. “I just hope we can explain it.”
“Peter already did,” Mike said. “Larry doesn’t seem like the nosy type, anyway.” A nod, and she walked out.
Just in time for Babbitt’s signature knock. “Uh oh,” Mike said. His heart pounded in his chest as he slowly crossed the room and opened the door.
Babbitt walked in, all smiles. “Just thought I’d see how my new tenant was work . . . ing . . . ” His eyes widened and he gaped at the damage. “ . . . out . . . ”
Mike forced himself to stay calm. “We had a problem last night, Mr. Babbitt.” He cringed inwardly at the lameness of his statement.
“A-a-a-a problem?! My windows!” Babbitt roared.
Mike’s mind raced. How in the world was going to explain what had happened without getting Millie in trouble?
Babbitt had already started roaring about how they were out—all of them—when Larry stood up. “That’s not fair, sir,” he said evenly.
Mike blinked.
Larry pointed at the Monkees. “You’re punishing these boys for my mistake. My truck’s brakes failed and I drove through the window,” he lied smoothly. “I told them, and now I’ll tell you—I will pay for all the repairs necessary. It was my fault, they shouldn’t be punished for it.”
Mike struggled to keep his jaw closed; Micky and Davy, who were both out of Babbitt’s line of sight, didn’t even try to disguise their utter bewilderment.
Babbitt studied Larry for a long moment, then he blinked and nodded slowly. “Well . . . so long as you pay for it.”
“I will, sir. We’re getting repair estimates now,” he said, hoping he wasn’t lying about that, “and once it’s done, I’ll pay it in full.”
Mike waited until Babbitt had gone. “Larry, we can’t let you do that—”
Larry held up a hand. “I insist,” he said, smiling at Millie. “You’ve been nothing but good to us both—”
“You’ll let us pay you back, though, right?” Peter said.
“I don’t insist on it,” Larry said slowly.
“We’ll still do it, though,” Mike said firmly. “We always pay our debts.”
Larry held out his hand. “Your word’s good enough for me.”
Mike’s handshake was as firm as his voice. “It might take us a while, though.”
“About sixty years,” Peter said, grinning widely.
Larry smiled at that. “At least it got him off your backs.”
Micky suddenly straightened. “Hey, I just thought of something!”
“What’s that?” Davy asked.
“Larry, you said you drove your truck through the windows! The windows are on a balcony overlooking the beach!”
Larry blinked and looked over at the windows, then burst out laughing. “I doubt he’ll ever make the connection. I sure didn’t!”
Peter burst out laughing as well, with Micky and Davy not far behind. Only Mike maintained his composure, chuckling softly and shaking his head. Millie smiled proudly at Larry. She was well and truly in love with this noble man.
The Monkees retreated, busying themselves with odd tasks while Millie and Larry ate and talked—or rather, Millie talked and Larry listened.
Micky couldn’t resist. When a plate was handed him to dry and put away, he nudged Mike. “Forgot one.” He handed it to him, the devil grin already spreading. Mike took it, looked at it, and turned his glare on Micky. “Don’t do that,” he muttered, washing the dish anyway.
Micky laughed so hard he had to sit down.
“Guys, guys, look! True love!” Peter hissed, pointing feverishly at Millie and Larry, who were sitting side by side on the couch, kissing, the Monkees and the entire outside world forgotten.
As they had a quiet celebration, the tender moment was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.
Micky moved quick, grabbing it on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Nesmith,” a familiar, hated voice demanded.
Micky looked up. “Mike, it’s for you.” The warning look in his eyes told Mike clearer than words who was on the other end. Mike gripped the receiver cautiously and raised it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Brought your proposal to the Don.”
“And?”
“He’s agreed. If she’s married within two days of this call to someone not in the Family, all agreements and contracts are null and void.”
“Good. Tell him she’s in love, and if I’m not mistaken tomorrow she’ll no longer be Mrs. Rudnick.” And with that Mike hung up.
“It’s settled, then?” Peter asked.
Mike smiled a little. “If she’s married within two days, she’s free.”
Peter’s eyes closed, his smile one of relief.
Micky tugged on Mike’s sleeve. “You really think they’ll just . . . get married? Just like that?”
“I think they will,” Davy nodded.
“Do you think they will?” Peter asked Micky.
“I hope so,” Micky said. “She’s nice, but . . . I miss the swinging bachelor lifestyle, you know?”
They all chuckled at that.
The four and Millie then sat Larry down and told him exactly what was going on, and exactly what they needed.
“We know this is kinda sudden, but . . . we need your help,” Mike said. “And I think you two are already pretty sweet on each other.”
Larry smiled at her. “Yeah . . . I am.”
Micky turned to Millie. “This is your way out, Millie. You gotta take it.”
Millie looked at Larry, who looked back at her. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Millie, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“If you can put up with me,” she smiled, making him laugh.
While Micky and Davy jabbed each other, grinning like idiots, Mike went to the phone, pulling the card out of his pocket. Five minutes later the wedding was announced and Mike was ripping the card into tiny pieces.
Millie then went to the phone. “There’s so much to do! The priest, the caterer, the musicians . . . my dress . . . ”
“Don’t worry about finding a reception hall—or a band,” Peter said, smiling.
“The dress, you’ll look beautiful in anything,” Larry said, then turned to the boys. “I’ll pay—”
“Nope,” Mike swiftly interrupted. “We owe you, remember?”
“Oh, now, hold on . . . ”
“No, Larry, it’s perfect, don’t you see?” Peter said. “We play at the reception to make us even for the windows.”
Larry met his eyes, then began to smile. “Agreed.” He held out his hand.
Mike shook it.
Millie was prattling on and on, not listening to anything, lost in her own plans—when suddenly she stopped. All movement and all sound just—stopped. She stood there, mouth open, eyes slowly widening.
Mike’s quiet conference with Peter over the music came to an equally sudden halt. “Millie?”
No answer.
Peter went over to her, touching her shoulder. “Millie?”
She turned to him, tears swimming in her eyes. “ . . . it’s real, isn’t it?” she murmured. “Once I say ’I do’ . . . I’m free?”
Peter hugged her, gently. “Yes, Millie. You’ll be free. I promise.”
She clung to him, crying tears of pure release.
Micky grinned. “She picked the right one of us to hug.”
Davy smiled back at him. “Let’s finish making the plans, what do you say, guys? Let him calm her down.”
~~~~~~
The wedding had unexpected guests—the contractors who were going to install the windows chose that part of the afternoon to arrive and do their work. Mike persuaded them to leave off their hammering and sawing long enough for them to play.
The concert was just under an hour long. Cheers and applause and a tender kiss between the new husband and wife capped it off.
Mike felt the oppressive weight ease from his shoulders. It never did disappear entirely, but that was all right. He’d grown used to it. Looking at his friends, he saw the tension ease from their faces and bodies, and savored the brief feeling of peace and safety.
The next morning, Larry helped them load Millie’s things into his copious van. “Good-bye, boys,” she said fondly. “It’s been . . . wonderful.”
“We enjoyed having you with us, Millie,” Mike said, still squirming a little in the itchy sweater she’d knitted for him. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I’m definitely not,” she laughed. “We’re only moving down the block.” She cupped Mike’s cheek. “Mickey, you take care of these boys. And most importantly, take care of yourself.” Mike’s eyes connected with hers, and for a moment she could see the pain and sadness he kept hidden. “I always do,” he murmured.
She hugged him and whispered, “Even horses need to talk. You know you can come to me.”
“Thanks.”
She moved to Peter and took his hands. “Peter, do me a favor.”
“Anything, Millie,” Peter replied with a smile.
“No more cream of anything soups till I buy you a cookbook?”
Peter exchanged looks with Micky and Davy. Fact was he hadn’t made cream of-anything-remotely-unusual since their transformation. “You got it, Millie.”
But the story had apparently found its way to her. She hugged him close, then moved to Davy.
“Yeah, Millie?” Davy said, wondering what she was going to say to him since he never did the cooking.
She cupped his chin. “Be as much a pussycat as you are a tiger,” she said softly, winking at him.
Davy purred softly, winking.
Millie then moved to Micky.
“Surely you don’t have anything to tell me,” Micky said, puffing his chest out. “Everyone knows I’m perfect,” he teased.
Mike rolled his eyes.
She folded her arms and tilted her head. “That faucet still drips.”
Peter laughed. “Not entirely perfect, Micky!”
Her stern expression vanished and she hugged Micky. “Try to be calm, Micky.”
Micky smiled, the momentary flicker of anger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “I’ll try, Millie.”
“That’s all I ask.” She got in the truck. “I’ll be seeing you fellas!” she called as Larry got in. “Blow by anytime!” She winked one final time as the truck lumbered down the street.
Mike turned to face his friends. “Well guys, that finishes that. Let’s go eat.”
“I’m not cooking!” Peter laughed.
“Hey!” Micky shouted. “Let’s go get Chinese!” He immediately ducked and ran as his three friends promptly chased him into the house.
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