Knit One, Steele One
(Don't own the characters, have no rights to them, just love them, and enjoy adding to the story)
Part 1
'Do that to me one more time, once is never enough, with a man like yooouuu,' crooned the Captain and Tennille through the speakers of a state of the art tape deck.
A woman sat reclined, eyes closed in euphoric rhapsody, as a handsome young man massaged her shampoo-laden scalp in rhythm to the music. Across from the row of sinks three women plopped down in succession into three rose-colored salon chairs, under three raised pink dryer hoods. Following them in perfect rhythm were three smocked attendants who lowered the dryer hoods over the women's roller encrusted heads.
The mirror behind the dryers revealed two women at salon stations having rollers whisked from their hair by briskly competent stylists. The women in the chairs chatted companionably as their coifs were perfected, over the smooth sounds of Toni Tennille and the soft whoosh of the hair dryers.
"Oh, you've gotta go sometime. The views are gorgeous!"
"I'd love to see it, but Harvey is so close with the dollar…I'd never be able to talk him into it." The woman held up her knitting to examine her work, then returned to her stitches, not really even needing to watch her hands as they flew at their task.
"I tell you what. You just go and stay at our little cabin. Leonard wouldn't mind at all. We're off to visit our kids for the next couple of weeks," gushed the freshly blonde, curled and hair sprayed sixy-ish woman. "You and Harvey can just make yourselves at home."
"Well, aren't you sweet! At that price, Harvey won't be able to say no! How I'll ever return the favor?"
"Don't be silly! It'll just be sitting there empty if you don't go, Eunice! You're doing us a favor keeping an eye on the place."
"Some sweet talking guy comes along singing his song, Don't mess around, You got to be strong, Just Stop, 'cause I really love You Stop, I'll be thinking of you, Look in my heart and let love keep us together."
As the taped Captain and Tennille concert rolled on, the women gathered their belongings, stood up simultaneously, and patting their hair, sauntered confidently outof the salon.
"This is Jim Rockford. At the tone, leave your name and message, I'll get back to you."
Mildred settled back on her sofa in front of a rerun of 'The Rockford Files,' needles and yarn in hand.
"Jimmy, old buddy! It's Angel! You know how they allow you one phone call? Well, this is it.'
Snick, Snick, Snick. Stitch upon stitch, Mildred laid down rows of pale yellow yarn. There was a baby on the way! She smiled just thinking about it. She had about given up hope that Miss Holt would ever stand still long enough to let the Boss rub two sticks together and start a fire, but well...
The whole thing had been classic farce. Mr. Steele planning to marry Clarissa, Miss Holt so mad she couldn't see straight, a little mud wrestling, Clarissa picked up for solicitation and suddenly, it was Miss Holt as the blushing bride.
OK, so she hadn't exactly looked bride like, nor had theirs exactly been the wedding every girl dreamed of but, hey - Mr. Steele and Miss Holt belonged together, even if they were too pig headed to go about things in a regular way. At least, they were married - and together. Miss Holt - er, Mrs. Steele – ending up in a family way was proof of that!
Apparently, once they extricated themselves from Tony and the British Intelligence and the Boss's inheritance and made up their minds to, uh, honeymoon, they must've forgotten all about biology. Best thing that coulda happened, as far as Mildred was concerned.
Mildred held her knitting up to the light to get a better look as she passed two stitches behind for a cable and then glanced down at her pattern book for a moment.
Miss Holt began having morning sickness a few weeks after the pair got back from Ireland. She'd needed Mildred to spell things out for her. Some detective! On the other hand, Mildred thought as she grinned a little wickedly, maybe Laura was distracted by the Boss and all the things they were finally enjoying together. Mildred knew she would be!
Dropping a stitch, Mildred grunted as she focused on her task for a few moments.
Of course, the newlyweds were a little rattled about the whole baby thing. Oh, Mr. Steele was strutting around like the only rooster in the barnyard with a goofy smile on his face; but at the same time, he never took his eyes off Laura afraid she might go to pieces if he wasn't watching her.
Mrs. S. was a little queasy and pasty, so she could understand the boss hovering, but Laura was tougher than anyone Mildred knew. She wasn't gonna let a baby slow her down - not much, anyway.
"Come on, Angel, you know I can't do that!" Jim said shaking his head."
Mildred sighed happily and stretched. Setting her knitting aside and turning off the television, she reached for the phone. "Hello - Eunice? Yeah - it's Mildred. You're not gonna believe this! Mr. Steele and Miss Holt - I mean, Mrs. Steele - are havin' a baby! . . .Yep, just married a couple of months now. I'm making them that sweater I made Bernard when he was a baby. Could you look up the blanket pattern you always make? It's only ten rows or so, isn't it? . . . No – that's fine. Just call me back when you find it."
Unlocking the door bearing the silver letters Remington Steele Investigations, Mildred flicked on the lights and setting her knitting bag to the floor next to her desk, walked purposefully through reception toward the workroom to get coffee going. She jumped when she heard a strangled sound coming from Laura's office. She looked through the open door to find Miss Holt slouched at her desk, head propped up on one hand, reading in the dim pool of light cast by her Correia lamp.
"Miss Holt! What are you doing here?!" Mildred gasped with one hand at her throat. "And looking like something the cat dragged in!"
"Thanks, Mildred," Laura answered dryly. She blanched a bit at this point and turned to heave unproductively over the trashcan that she had pulled close. She smiled wearily. "Nothing in my stomach. Couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well get some work done"
"Stay right there. I'm gonna make you some tea." As Mildred hurried back into the workroom to heat water, the insistent ring of the phone shattered the early morning silence of the office. Grabbing the wall phone, she pulled her earring off to hold the phone against her shoulder as she stood at the little sink and said briskly, "Remington Steele Investigations."
"Mildred, I can't seem to locate Laura! I'm hoping she ran by her loft to pick something up, but you know she's been a little under the weather. She isn't picking up the phone, and I'm a bit worried. I'm going to have Fred run me by the loft, but…."
Steele rattled on so frantically that it took Mildred several tries to break in to his worrying. "Mr. Steele! Hold it! Mrs. S. is here at her desk working, safe and sound," Mildred assured Steele. She decided not to mention how ill Laura looked. "You know how she likes to get a jump on the day."
"She's there? And she's OK?"
There was only silence for a long moment as Mildred finished filling the coffee carafe with water and stretched the cord across the room as she poured it through the coffee maker to heat it. "Mr. Steele?" she finally said.
"Yes, Mildred. Well. . . excellent. I'll be in shortly myself and catch up with Laura then. Thank you, Mildred."
"Sure thing, Mr. Steele." Mildred hesitated, then asked, "You want me to put her on the phone, Boss?"
"No, no. I'll talk to her in person when I arrive. "
Mildred sighed as Mr. Steele hung up. Were these two ever going to learn to talk to one another? She poured hot water into a mug, grabbed a tea bag and headed into Laura's office.
"Mrs. S., that was the boss. You must' a forgotten to leave him a note – he was afraid something had happened to you."
Laura sighed with frustration. "So now that we're married, I can't make a move without clearing it with HIM first?"
"Well, now, I don't know about clearing every move with Mr. Steele; maybe just let him know where you are. He worries about you. You gotta admit, you aren't exactly doing great just now." Mildred searched Laura's face as the younger woman struggled with her emotions, finally settling on merely exhausted. Mildred laid an encouraging hand on Laura's shoulder. "Sip that tea. I've got some crackers in my bag. Eunice says the best thing is to keep nibbling on saltines."
Laura groaned as the busy receptionist/secretary/apprentice detective hurried back to her desk. She raised her voice to carry into the reception area, saying, "Mildred, I appreciate your concern butI think what would help is if I could just focus on business for a while!"
"Sure, Miss Holt...Mrs. Steele. Here are the crackers just in case you want 'em. I got another lead on a bureaucrat in Dublin who might be able to help me with that search for Mr. Steele's records. Should I keep working on that?"
"Perfect. It would be nice if we could come up with a birth certificate for Mr. Steele before we need a name to put on… anyone else's." Laura's voice trailed off as she waved vaguely.
Steele pushed through the agency door within the half hour of his phone call. His clipped 'Good Morning Mildred' as he strode purposefully into his office felt like anything but. The closed doors did little to muffle the raised voices that soon echoed from within Laura's office.
"Is it asking too much to have my bride beside me in our bed when I awaken in the morning? Or for you to at least leave some clue alluding to your whereabouts?"
"I couldn't sleep. I always work when I can't sleep. How can you not know that after working with me for four years!?"
"Laura. We're supposed to be married. I confess I don't know a great deal about that sacred institution, but doesn't being married mean some things change?"
"What are you talking about!? Everything's changed! I'm living in YOUR apartment; I'm using your name!"
"And I'm using yours – the one you gave me, remember? The apartment is OURS, Laura; not MINE."
"Then why is half of MY stuff still at MY loft!? Using the name 'Remington Steele' was YOUR choice – anytime you're ready to go back to Michael or Mick or Dougie, just say the word!"
For being as puny as she was, Miss Holt could sure crank up the volume! Mildred sat perfectly still waiting for the next volley, but silence fell heavily over the office. With a sigh she placed a call to a friend of hers in the Washington DC Department of Immigration, hoping to bypass some of the snafus Mr. Steele's lack of documentation presented.
Learning that Daniel Chalmers, an American citizen by birth, had been Mr. Steele's father gave Mildred some thoughts on how to obtain legal records for the boss. While she sat on hold, the always efficient Miss Krebs pulled out her knitting to occupy her fingers. She held up the growing front panel of the little yellow sweater. There was something so satisfying about watching a project come together!
Suddenly the door from Mr. Steele's office swung open, and Steele's head popped through. "Mildred … Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you were on the phone."
"I'm on hold, Chief. What can I do for you?"
"When you have a minute, could you come in here? I think I've persuaded Laura that we need to consolidate our living situations. I thought maybe you could help us procure an agent, a list of what we want in a house, possible locations...whatever it takes to buy a home."
With a quick clunk, Mildred hung up the phone. Trading her knitting for a pen and notepad, Mildred, charged ahead of her amused employer into his office. "I'll try my call later. It's about time you kids settle some things."