Anne’s cell phone went straight to voicemail—must be with a client—so Meredith left her cousin a message to check on the dog if she wasn’t home when Anne got there. She pulled out of the driveway headed north, toward downtown.
Corie was just clearing her desk when Meredith hurried in.
“Hey. Everyone’s been looking for you.” Corie handed her several sticky notes with messages.
Meredith flipped through them quickly. “I already talked to most of them on the way back here. I’ll call this one back tomorrow.” She wadded the unnecessary messages and handed them to Corie to throw away. “Any deliveries come while I was out?”
Corie shook her head. “I called them several times. They said the linens were on the truck to be delivered today.” The assistant put her satchel down in her chair. “Need me to stay and help out with anything so you’re not here all night?”
“No. I’ve got that meeting in”—Meredith glanced at her watch—“two hours. And then I’m out of here.”
“Want me to go pick up something for you to eat?”
“Won’t be necessary.”
Meredith whirled around at Major’s voice. He carried a tray with several dome-covered dishes, a pitcher of tea, and a glass full of ice.
Warm gooiness—like a chocolate chip cookie straight from the oven—stuck to Meredith’s insides. “Is that for me?”
“Who else?” He nodded toward her door. “Unless you don’t want it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Meredith stepped out of his way and motioned him into her office.
“I remembered you said you had a late meeting tonight, and I figured you might appreciate not having to reheat cold leftovers.” Major slid the tray onto her table and began putting out a place-setting, complete with cloth napkin and placemat.
“I guess you’re taken care of, then.” Corie joined Meredith in the doorway. “Here’s all the stuff you’ll need for the meeting.”
“Thanks.” She took the stack of folders. “Have a good night.”
Corie’s gaze cut toward Major; then she grinned at Meredith. “You, too.”
Instead of correcting her assistant’s erroneous conclusion, Meredith bade her farewell and carried the thick stack of folders to the table.
“You look like you’ve gotten some sun.” Meredith’s voice just over his shoulder startled Major, making him clank the plate cover against the ceramic.
Embarrassment kept him from looking up at her; instead, he concentrated on setting the dishes out just so. “Yeah. Alaine suggested I go to a tanning salon and get a little more color so they don’t have to use so much makeup on me tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Meredith picked up one of the folders she’d just put down. “So, that starts tomorrow, huh?”
“Mmm.” Major was so not ready to get in front of the camera again. How had he ever agreed to do this? Oh, yeah, that’s right. He hadn’t. He’d been
“Do you know what you’re going to cook yet?” Meredith perched on the edge of a chair across the table.
“Alaine suggested starting off with a kitchen basics lesson—talking about different techniques, different utensils that most people will be using at home.” He swallowed hard. “We’re going to be doing it at my condo.”
Meredith’s head rocked back slightly, and her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Something about not wanting to intimidate the viewers by showing me only in a professional kitchen.” Of course, once they saw his kitchen at home, they’d kick him off as a fraud. No professional chef had anything at home as laughable as what he had. “Then it’ll mostly be based on viewers’ suggestions and questions as to what I cook each week.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Meredith fingered the edge of the folder her arm rested atop. “How is this going to affect your work schedule? I heard the filming is pretty much going to eat up your whole day on Tuesdays.”
Major added a last-minute garnish of chopped chives and parsley to the blue cheese mashed potatoes and pulled out the chair for Meredith. Really looking at her for the first time since their meeting last Friday morning, he was surprised by how exhausted she looked.
“Can you stay a few minutes?” she asked before sitting.
“Sure.” He sank into the chair she’d just vacated. “I’m not sure yet how this thing is going to impact the work flow. Steven has been pretty much running lunch service upstairs for the past five months, so he’s ready to step up as
Meredith finished off her Caesar salad quickly and started on the blackened lemon fish with the citrus beurre blanc. At the first bite, she closed her eyes and sighed.
Major relaxed. It had been a favorite of his to prepare in culinary school, but he hadn’t made it in years, before Friday night. It was definitely going on the short list for the restaurant menu.
“Is that something Steven can help out with?”
“With vendors for the banquet? I’d rather have him concentrating on lunch service. I’m going to have him do the final inventory and budget this week, as well as have him start ordering for next week. I’m going to work closely with him on it, but it’s something he should pick up pretty easily. He’s a quick learner.”
“He’s got a good mentor.” Meredith gave him a soft smile.
His insides turned into goo. “Thanks.”
“Hey, when are you guys going to sing at church again?” Meredith moved her cleared dinner plate aside and pulled the dish of sliced baked apples forward.
“Forbes said something Thursday night about a few new pieces he’d found for us. It’s just a matter of us all having time in our schedule to get together and practice. With Clay working most nights, George off gallivanting all over the world, and Forbes and me working long hours, we hardly cross paths anymore.”
“That’s too bad. Everyone loves to hear y’all sing. It’s the only time we ever get to see Forbes doing something that seems completely out of character for him.”
Major laughed. “Yeah, he doesn’t seem the southern gospel type. Of course, he’s the main reason we dress in suits rather than just making sure we’re wearing similar color shirts up there.”
Meredith lapsed into silence for a moment, stirring the baked apples around in their sauce. “Major, I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, so tell me if I’m overstepping bounds here, but I’ve always been curious about your family.”
Frozen iron settled in Major’s gut. “Curious about what?”
“Well, you never talk about them. You know so much about mine—have practically been part of our family for a really long time.”
His forearms started twitching from how tightly he gripped his fists. “I don’t talk about my family because there really isn’t much to say.” He should tell her. He would tell her.
Meredith looked over at him, head cocked, a half smile playing about those very inviting lips.
No, he couldn’t tell her. He didn’t want that open, carefree gaze to be tainted with suspicion, wondering when he was going to go off his rocker, too. “I’m an only child who was raised by a single mom.”
“And your mom is...?” She pressed her lips together.
As tempting as it was to let her think his mother had passed away, he couldn’t lie to her. “Still living.”
“Does she still live in Bonneterre?”
“No.” Because technically, Beausoleil Pointe Center was outside the city limits.
“That’s too bad. So you probably don’t get to see her very often.” She looked genuinely sad for him.
Guilt pounded in his head and chest. Why couldn’t he just bring himself to tell her the truth? “I see her as often as I can.” Like every Wednesday evening and Sunday afternoon.
“Well, if she ever comes in town, let me know. I’d love to meet her and tell her how much I ... appreciate her son.”
