[Additional verbiage added] Ahem. Okay, here's what I've got so far. It's not much,
what with picking up Dmitry from school, and fixing him a snack, and
talking to the BSF leader, but it's something. The title of the
story is "Mercy, Maud!" and the main character is, as you might guess,
a middleaged woman named, duh, Maud. 
The opening of Chapter One:
"No. Absolutely not.
You must be kidding." The speaker glared balefully at the other
person in the kitchen, an attractive young woman who blithely ignored
the unfriendly look aimed her way. She smiled ingratitatingly as
she pushed a strand of long blonde hair behind an ear, and prepared
herself for a selling job.
"Now, Aunt Maud, don't be like
that. You haven't even met the man, for heaven's sake!
Surely you aren't going to reject him without even meeting him?" she
scolded lightly. Maud, a woman who middle age had firmly in its
grip, shook her head as she turned her attention back to the cookies
she was making. With practiced ease she pinched off a bit of
dough from the bowl in front of her, formed it into a ball, dumped it
on the cookie sheet, then poked a depression in it with her
thumb.
"Rejecting him before I meet him
is easier on his ego than rejecting him after I've met him," Maud
pointed out as she rolled another cookie between her fingers.
"And it's not personal. It's just his name."
Though Val had foreseen the
proposed suitor's name being a problem, she chose to act
surprised. "His name? Now really, Aunt Maud, that's not
fair. He can hardly help his name, after all," reaching out to
nip off a bit of cookie dough for herself. Her aunt shooed her
halfheartedly with one hand - she'd been sneaking a few tastes herself
- as her other hand dropped the ball on the sheet, and punched in the
depression. Hard.
"Claude? Are you seriously
suggesting a woman named Maud go out with a man named Claude?
Maud and Claude? We'd sound like a vaudeville act," she
snorted. "It was bad enough with your Uncle Jeff, as Maud and
Jeff were too close to Mutt and Jeff, based on the cheap jokes we heard
over the years. 'Maud and Claude' would be much, much
worse." Rapidly she made another cookie and viciously stabbed at
it with her thumb.
Val thoughtfully regarded her aunt, as she realized getting her aunt to
agree to meet Claude may be a trifle trickier than expected. Oh
sure, she'd expected some resistance . . . it hadn't been that long
since her uncle's unexpected death . . . and it was definitely a pity
about the rhyming names, but she just knew the two would hit it
off. Absently helping herself to another small hunk of cookie
dough, Val mentally flipped through possible arguments and enducements
rejecting all but the most basic.
"Thing is," she said coaxingly, "Claude's new in town. He only
arrived a couple of weeks ago, and would love to meet someone he can
relax with." That was good. Very, very good. She
can't claim he doesn't know anyone, after all, but it's true he can't
relax with them. If it makes him sound lonely, well, it's not her
fault if her aunt draws an unwarranted conclusion. The hook was
baited, now all she could do is wait and see if the fish bit. For
several seconds there was silence as Maud pinched, rolled and punched
dough.
"Where's Claude from?" Maud finally asked. "How long has he been here? Where does he work?"
Val casually looked out the kitchen window, not wanting her aunt to see
the triumph she was feeling. Fishing is such a satisfying
endeavor. "I believe I heard he's from the Knoxville area, and he
arrived maybe a month ago. Do you have any of that peach tea you
make, Aunt Maud? May I have some?" she asked quickly, hoping to
provide a diversion away from her aunt's questions.
Having finished rolling the cookies, Maud hefted the Pampered Chef
stoneware baking sheet in one hand while opening the oven door with the
other. "I think there's some left in the fridge; help
yourself. What did you say he does for a living?"
Val sighed inwardly, knowing there was no way to avoid answering.
She took the time while getting a glass of tea to weigh her
words. This plus The Name? Careful treading was required.
"Gee, let me think. What. Does. He. Do. Someone told me . .
. if only I can remember!" Stalling for time, Val frantically
cast around for a way to soften the truth a little. Maud, the
baking sheet safely in the oven, had begun melting chocolate chips and
shortening in a small saucepan. "Aren't you supposed to do that
in a double boiler?" Val asked, attempting yet another red herring.
Maud never had cared much for fish. "Technically, yes, but I've
never done that in my life. So what is it Claude does?" She
raised her head and looked pointedly at her niece, who sipped at her
tea before answering.
"Oh yes, I remember now," Val said brightly. Maud rolled her eyes
a bit as she returned her attention to the saucepan of chocolate.
"As a matter of fact . . . Aunt Maud, you are going to think this is
SUCH a coincidence! . . .
he'sthenewassociatepastoratthebiblechurchacrosstown" she finished in a
rush.
A deep, profound silence settled on the kitchen. An extended
deep, profound silence. For several seconds the only sound was of
the wooden spoon gently scraping along the sides of the pan.
"Say that again," Maud instructed softly. Val swallowed
nervously. Her aunt at her softest was her aunt at her most
dangerous.
"Uh, I said he's the new associate pastor at . . ." then jumped when
Maud banged the spoon against the edge of the pan, sending melted
chocolate flying like rain drops.
"I heard you the first time! Are you insane? Are you
mad? Have you taken leave of whatever senses you ever possessed?"
Holding the spoon like a weapon, Maud stalked toward her niece, who
heartily wished she'd never gotten embroiled in this in the first
place. Val edged around the kitchen island.
"Now, Aunt Maud, don't be like that. My goodness, you make him
sound like a serial killer or something! What's so wrong with him
being a pastor? Uncle Jeff was a pastor, after all, and you were
happy with him, right?" Desperately she checked the wall clock,
hoping to find it was time - past time, even -
for her to collect her daughter at school. No such luck.
There was still a solid half hour to go, which her aunt knew.
Maud stopped, sighed, stuck the spoon back in the chocolate then
reached for paper towels to clean up the splatters. "Yes, Val,
your uncle was indeed a pastor, and yes, I was happy with him, but no,
I've not the slightest intention of getting involved with one
again. Once was enough, believe me."
=================================
That's as far as I've gotten, and Dmitry's hanging around, anxious to
get at the computer. Hint: Claude isn't going to be any
more enthusiastic about meeting Maud. 
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