"Um, ma'am, miss... just give me a moment. I'll call Mr. Dickerson and ask how it's done." Marjorie's face burned with embarrassment.
Hildegarde's brow furrowed.
In that moment, she realized that without Wilfred, this entire household had fallen apart.
She couldn't sleep. Now she couldn't even eat breakfast.
But she would never admit he mattered.
"Wilfred, if you've got the nerve, don't ever come back. You want a divorce? Fine. Let's divorce."
"When you can't make it out there and come crawling back begging me to remarry you, I'll make you kneel at my feet and sing 'I Surrender' for twenty-four hours straight!"
Achoo!
Miles away at the Dickerson old house, Wilfred was woken by his internal clock—and immediately sneezed hard.
He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and couldn't help a bitter smile.
Five years in the Pruitt household. Every day, he'd woken at this hour to take care of the children, to take care of Hildegarde. Now it was second nature.
Even without setting an alarm, his body woke him right on schedule.
His phone rang.
He picked it up and checked the screen.
Marjorie.
After a moment's hesitation, he answered.
"Hello, Marjorie—"
"Mr. Dickerson! Ma'am and the little miss are up, and they want some kind of egg and ham sandwich—the ham has to be imported from New Zealand, the egg fried medium—and the little miss wants a bacon cheese egg burger. I don't know how to make any of this!"
Marjorie's voice cracked with panic.
Wilfred had been the man of the Pruitt house, yet he'd always been approachable, never making things difficult for the staff.
"Here's what we'll do," he said. "I'll send you the recipes right now. Just follow the steps. I'll also send you a list of Hilary's dietary needs and things to watch out for."
"Marjorie, I'm leaving Hilary in your care from now on."
"Alright, Mr. Dickerson. But... when are you coming back?"
"I'm not coming back."
"What?!" Marjorie thought she'd misheard.
"Hildegarde and I are getting divorced," Wilfred said. "I won't be involved in Pruitt family matters anymore. Don't call this number again."
He hung up before she could respond.
"Did you reach Wilfred?"
Hildegarde looked up at Marjorie, her expression cold and detached.
Marjorie nodded. "Y-yes, I got through."
"What did that bastard say? When is he crawling back?"
"Mr. Dickerson said... he said he's divorcing you. He's never coming back."
"Pfft—!"