The next morning Charley Bates maneuvered her Perlman Estate Liquidators truck into the alley behind a Coral Gables strip mall. She was making an unusually small delivery today: a single antique teapot.

Charley left her air conditioned truck and braved superheated morning air that steamed her clothes into dampness and her hair into kinky curls before she had taken a dozen steps across the sticky asphalt. Nevertheless, eschewing the delivery doors that faced onto the alley, Charley made her way down the alley to the sidewalk and around the building to enter via the front door. Today Charley entered the Twice Blessed consignment store as a customer, not as a delivery driver.

Sparing no time to dawdle over the eclectic and colorful mix of antique bric-a-brac in the store window, Charley carefully entered the small shop, cradling Mona Zapruder's teapot in her arms.

A short, homely lady bedecked in layers of antique jewelry waited behind a glass display counter. The elfin creature, whose nametag read "Orkney," smiled a welcome while peering over her wire-rimmed granny spectacles at Charley.

"Top o' the mornin', miss," Orkney said in a falsetto reminiscent of Julia Child. "What can we do for you here at Twice Blessed this fine mornin'?"

Charley set the old teapot on the counter and turned its painted face toward Orkney.

"Good morning," said Charley, returning the smile. "I'd like to place this with you on consignment. I don't know what it's worth, but it's handmade, and according to the date on the bottom it's very old."

Orkney's hands, sporting at least eight ornate rings, a gold filigreed watch, and ten bangle bracelets, lifted the teapot and checked the date on its bottom. Orkney set the pot back down on the counter, and it winked at him.

"We'll find this beauty the perfect home, Miss Bates," said Orkney in the Julia Child voice. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at how valuable it will turn out to be."

Orkney extended a hand toward Charley, and the bangle bracelets tinkled like wind chimes as a handshake sealed the deal.

"Thank you so much," said Charley, who didn't remember telling the diminutive old lady her name. "Do you need me to fill out a contact card or something, so you can reach me if it sells?"

"Oh, it will sell, have no fear," crooned Orkney. "And we already know how to reach you, Miss Bates."

Charley's eyebrows lifted. "Do I know you? Are you a friend of my dad?"

Orkney patted Charley's arm. "Don't be alarmed, dear. Why, you're Charley Bates from Perlman's. Everyone in our business knows who you are."

"Oh," murmured Charley. "Mmm."

Orkney smiled placidly at Charley.

Charley smiled uncertainly at Orkney.

With its back to Charley, the old teapot winked again at Orkney and grinned.

"Well," Charley exhaled, stirring herself into action. "I'll just wait to hear from you, then. Thanks again." She backed away from the counter until halfway to the door. Then she turned and walked toward miserable heat and humidity.

"Have a nice day, dear," the old teapot sang out.

Without looking back, Charley called, "You, too," and left the building.

In the Schifflebein kitchen that evening Lloyd bustled about the stove, turning down fires and replacing lids on steaming saucepans. Teapot perched on a back burner. Lloyd would have looked more macho without his pink frilly apron, but the apron had been Mona's, and manliness was far from his mind at that moment.

The large kitchen table shone with white linens and glittering place settings for eight. Lucy, in a dainty dress, was carefully folding a cloth napkin beside each bone china plate.

Teapot observed the preparations with characteristic impertinence. "It's not Princess Diana! It's just the truck driver from down the street, for pity's sake!"

"That's no reason for us not to put our best foot forward," Lloyd responded. "Those are lovely, Lucy."

"Thanks," the little girl said with pride.

Lloyd took off his apron, folded it, and put it away.

"You want the Oolong or the Earl Gray after dinner?" asked Teapot.

Lloyd sighed. "I suppose it's too much to ask that we might have coffee after dinner?"

"Yeah, right. And be up all night," Teapot quipped.

"I'll be up all night anyway. I've got to finish another module in the workshop after the kids go to bed."

The doorbell bonged. Lloyd and Lucy froze. They looked at each other.

Suddenly Lloyd was the nervous child and Lucy was the parent. She moved to face him, and he bent so that she could reach and straighten his collar.

Lucy placed a kiss on his cheek. "You look handsome," she said.

"Our date's here!" Amy shouted from another room.

"She is our neighbor, not our date!" Lloyd shouted back before taking Lucy's hand and pulling her with him toward the living room.

Dinner that evening went amazingly well. Lloyd sat at one end of the long table, Charley at the other. All six Schifflebein children occupied the places in between. Conversation flowed easily, and Charley proved to be a quick study at signing a few basic words and phrases for Nguyen. The meal was acknowledged to be delicious, and the tuition for Lloyd's cooking classes was deemed money well spent.

All too soon the food had been enthusiastically consumed and the formerly elegant tabletop was a shambles.

"May we be excused?" Lucy signed as she asked on behalf of all the children.

Lloyd signed as he answered, "Yes, you may be excused. I'll take kitchen duty tonight."

Chairs scraped the floor as the children began leaving the table.

Nguyen signed, "Can we watch a movie?"

Lloyd signed as he answered, "One video, then baths and bedtime."

The children mumbled agreement. One by one they filed by Lloyd's chair and accepted a kiss before leaving the room.

At last, the children were gone.

Lloyd and Charley locked eyes.

In silence they gradually realized: they were actually alone.

Teapot's shriek jolted both of them. Lloyd leapt from his chair and swooped the Teapot off the stove. Silence again.

Lloyd cleared his throat. "Oolong or Earl Gray," he said.

"Doesn't matter," Charley answered. "Earl Grey, I guess."

"No, I mean, it's either Oolong or Earl Gray. I don't know which."

"Oh. Well. Like I said. Doesn't matter. Long as it's hot." Charley fidgeted with the napkin in her lap, so she didn't notice that it was not Lloyd who responded.

"Oh, yeah, he's hot!" Teapot said.

"What?" said Charley.

"Oh, yeah, Viennese torte!" Lloyd blurted. "I made Viennese torte for dessert. Too much sugar for the children at this hour, but you and I could—"

"I'm engaged."

Slowly Lloyd replaced Teapot on the stove, put his hands in his pockets, and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Charley continued to fidget with her cloth napkin. She didn't look at him. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"So, you and I couldn't," he said. "Uh, I mean, you, uh, you don't care for, ahmpfh, uh, dessert."

Charley set aside her napkin and turned sideways in her chair. With one elbow resting on the back of her chair, she looked into his face bravely.

"I've had such a good time," she said. "That was such a great dinner. They're such great kids. You're such a great guy. It just seemed like it was all getting.... It was too good. And I'm, uh, I'm engaged."

Lloyd roused himself, stepped to the table, and began stacking dishes to remove them for washing. She still watched him, but he kept his eyes on his task.

"Well, then," he said, "I'll wash and you dry, and you can tell me all about him."

Dishwashing could be fun at the Schifflebein house, with soapsud wars and towel fights and a great deal of squealing and laughter. On this night it was silent, businesslike, and more than a little awkward.

Lloyd and Charley worked their way through the chores until, with only the last pots and pans to finish, Lloyd cleared his throat.

"Ahem. So, you're getting married."

Charley nodded without looking at him. "Every little girl's dream, I guess. You better get ready, new dad. They start planning the ceremony around age seven, I think."

"Did you?"

"Almost." She chuckled. "I wanted a dress like Cinderella – only white, of course—and shoes made of leather instead of glass. Glass sounds uncomfortable."

"And fragile." He finished scrubbing a saucepan and handed it to her for drying.

"Yeah, and who wants to break a shoe in the middle of the perfect wedding, right?"

"And you've planned the perfect wedding?" he said, dunking a frying pan into the sink.

"Oh, sure! What other kind is there? It'll be in my garden, with all the flowers my mother planted and the bougainvillea draping itself over my gazebo like a pink cloud. And the bridesmaids will be wearing floor-length dresses the exact same color as the bougainvillea, and I'll have sprigs of it in my bridal bouquet."

He pointed to a cabinet, and she bent to put the saucepan away where he had indicated. He couldn't help admiring her shapely derriere, but he averted his eyes before she straightened up from her task.

"So you're getting married in your gazebo?" he said, scrubbing the frying pan. "Very romantic. Is that why you built it?"

"I didn't think so at the time," she said thoughtfully.

When she didn't continue, he prompted her with, "And do little girls plan the reception after the wedding, too?"

"Of course!" She smiled at him, reaching for the frying pan he was rinsing. "At least we plan the cake with six tiers and the statues of a bride and groom on the top."

They lapsed into silence while Lloyd emptied and cleaned the sink. Charley put away the frying pan and shook out her damp towel.

"Have you told your fiancé about the Grand Plan?" asked Lloyd. "Is he on board with all of it?"

"He'll be fine with anything, really. He doesn't care about that kind of stuff."

"But you do," said Lloyd with some indignance. "If it matters to you, it should matter to him! What's wrong with this guy?"

Charley's eyes widened. She placed a calming hand softly on his forearm and found it rock hard with tensed muscle. His fist was actually clenched, she noted, and she smiled at his anger on her behalf. "Everybody doesn't think the way you do," she soothed. "It's okay. Really."

Lloyd took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

She felt his muscles relax as his fist opened.

He covered her hand with his own, and for a moment they both were still, looking at their hands on his arm, drawing warmth from one another. Then Lloyd released her hand and stepped back. He took the towel from her other hand. "I'll just drop this in the washer. Be right back."

He dashed from the kitchen, leaving Charley alone.

When Charley stepped out Lloyd's front door that night to walk home, he followed her as far as the threshold. He folded his arms across his chest.

"Well, thank you for a lovely dinner," Charley told him. "And say good night to the children for me."

"You're wise to leave before the bedtime free-for-all," he said with forced cheer. "It's not like in the movies, y'know. They don't line up and sing themselves off to their rooms in six-part harmony. Which reminds me, speaking of music, do you know of any piano teachers in the neighborhood?"

"I know me."

"Really? How about flute teachers, trombone teachers, and – heaven help us – drum instructors?"

"Me, me, and – heaven help us – me. My dad taught middle school band for many years. I've played just about every instrument at one time or another."

They looked at each other for several awkward seconds, smiling only with their lips. Charley dropped her eyes first.

"Why don't you send them to my house for an hour when I get home from work, at least until school starts," she offered. "I've got instruments in the attic, and I can get them started on the basics. No charge. If they decide to stick with it, you can hire professional instructors in the fall."

Lloyd looked at her more closely. "You don't mean you'd do this for nothing! There are six of 'em, remember?"

She chuckled. "Sure I would. I'll be fun. And it's only for the summer, right?"

Lloyd leaned against the doorjamb. He waited until she raised her eyes again, and then in a voice as dark and sweet as molten chocolate he said, "You're an answered prayer, Charlotte Bates. I'm sorry I didn't meet you sooner. Much sooner." His smile faded into wistfulness as he spoke.

Charley's smile faded. "And I'm sorry you're not a big, muscle-brained oaf with bad manners and bad breath who has no sense of humor and absolutely couldn't cook his way out of a paper bag."

In the porch light he saw her cheeks redden before she abruptly looked down at her shoes. He looked down at his shoes, too. One of his shoes was slightly bunny-chewed on the edges, but Lloyd wouldn't have noticed if Montalban had been sitting beside him calmly slurping down the laces like they were spaghetti.

The big man and the pretty woman stared at their respective footwear, but neither of them thought about feet or fashion.

Without looking up, Lloyd said, "I'll take you up on your offer of music lessons for the kids on one condition."

She looked up at him. "You got it."

He straightened and met her eyes. "You can't let it interfere with your wedding plans. I won't be responsible for messing that up, understand?"

"We haven't actually set a date."

"Set one. And I think it should be soon."

They stared at one another for a long, silent moment. He was deadly serious. She forced a smile.

"I'll call you when I get home from work tomorrow, and you can send the troops over for their first lesson. Good night."

She turned and walked away very quickly. She was almost too far away to hear when he finally spoke, "Goodbye, Charlotte."

Long after Charley's footsteps faded away in the distance, Lloyd stood straight and immobile as the Colossus of Rhodes in the doorway.

After a while, he shook himself, closed the front door, and returned to the kitchen. He slumped into a chair and dropped his hands onto the table before him.

"Well, you prayed for a bride," quipped the Teapot. "And you got a bride. Too bad she's someone else's. Maybe you shoulda been more specific."

"Shut up."

"Manners!" Teapot chided. "What happened to 'We don't say those words in this house'?"

"Be quiet, then."

"You didn't say 'please.'"

"Don't push it, Crock Face."