“I’m too exhausted to eat.” She resisted his gentle tugging for a few seconds, then, with a sigh, got back out of her chair. “All right. I’m coming.”
It was all Major could do to let go of her once she was back on her feet. Her hands fit perfectly in his, felt just right clasped there. He tried not to think about Ward Breaux, with his big catcher’s mitts, holding Meredith’s hands.
Corie passed them on their way into the dining room, and she grinned at him. “See, I told you that you would have better luck convincing her.”
Meredith didn’t seem to hear—or care about—what her assistant said. “Corie, do you mind staying until I get back? I’d hate to think what would happen if someone else calls and I’m not there to answer it.”
“I already told you I can stay as late as you need me.”
The fatigue in Meredith’s face vanished when she smiled. “Thanks. You’re sweet as a Georgia peach.”
“And twice as sassy.” Corie cocked an eyebrow and laughed.
Meredith went over to talk to Pam and Lori, so Major fixed plates and grabbed sodas for both of them. He chose a table a little bit away from where the few remaining kitchen staff sat, wanting to give Meredith a few minutes’ peace before she dived back into work.
On her way to join him, she made a full tour of the room, speaking to everyone, including Alaine and her camera crew. Compared to Alaine, on whom the toll of the long day was evident, Meredith looked as if she were just starting her day—shoulder-length hair perfectly in place, cream-colored pantsuit not in the least rumpled or wrinkled, skin as luminous as ever. Alaine, on the other hand, with her hair pulled back in a limp ponytail, looked like she’d been through the wringer. She’d slung her suit coat across the back of her chair, kicked her shoes off under the table, and rolled her shirtsleeves up. But it was in her face, in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the slight downward turn of her mouth, that her fatigue showed the most.
His chest tightened with pride in Meredith and how she thrived in a whirlwind like tonight. Finally, she joined him. He asked a blessing, and they launched into eating.
After her third slice of pizza, Meredith leaned back, popped open a second can of Diet Coke, and took a long swig of the soda. “Ah. I needed that. Thanks for making me come eat.”
Major weighed the pleasure of a fourth slice against the pain of the extra running he’d have to do on the treadmill later on. The pizza won. “Want some more?”
“Some apple dessert pizza would be great.” She handed him her plate.
After getting her dessert and his fourth slice, he turned to see Alaine had joined Meredith at the table. He grimaced. He’d hoped to have Meredith to himself for at least a few more minutes before he had to get back up to the kitchen.
“Major, I’ve been wondering something,” Alaine said before he could regain his seat.
“What’s that?” He handed Meredith a fork to go along with her dessert.
“I was a little surprised to see that you actually wear your chef ’s jacket to cook in. I always thought those were just for show—you know, something you put on before you come out of the kitchen to take a bow. Hardly any of the chefs on TV wear one.”
Every muscle in his body cringed. He hated it when people compared what he did to what the celebrity chefs did on TV. Wait a minute—
“So, would it be better if we had you wear one in your segment?” Alaine propped her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her fist.
“Probably not. Since I’m supposed to be preparing what people can do in their home kitchens, it would probably look pretentious if I started wearing it after I’ve already been on the show for two weeks without it.” He ate a few bites of the pizza before he realized he wasn’t hungry anymore.
“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over very well.” Alaine raised her hand to cover her yawn. “Sorry, I’ve been up since five this morning.”
Major caught Meredith’s eye—they’d walked in together from the parking garage at a quarter of six this morning. The corner of Meredith’s lips quirked up, but she turned her attention to her apple pizza.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you, though, that the feedback we’ve been getting from viewers has been overwhelmingly positive. You’re a big hit with my viewers, Chef O’Hara.” A little bit of the glimmer returned to Alaine’s dark eyes.
“That’s good to know. I’d hate to think I was tanking and taking your show down with me.” Actually, he’d tried not to think of it, because he knew finding out wouldn’t be good for maintaining a healthy level of ego.
“The feedback we get most often, from our female viewers of course, is that they feel like you’re talking straight to them. Some of them were afraid that you might do stuff that was way over their heads or too fancy or that you would use terminology or techniques they didn’t understand. But they say they feel like you’re just a friend who’s come into their kitchens to give them a one-on-one cooking lesson.” Alaine stifled another yawn. “Which is exactly what we were hoping for.”
This time, Major didn’t risk looking at Meredith. If only Alaine knew to whom he was really talking when he explained what he was doing. If only Meredith knew that he sometimes imagined she was there with him, sharing and participating in his favorite thing to do.
Chapter 19
When the first guests arrived at six thirty, Meredith breathed a relieved sigh, thankful they’d never know how frantic Vue de Ceil had been mere moments ago. But now, all of the tables were set, candles lit, place cards where they were supposed to be. In their white tuxedo shirts, black bow ties, and black pants, several servers waited with her near the elevator foyer to show guests to their seats.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. d’Arcement. Good to see you again. You are at table twenty-three. Jeremy will take you. I hope you have a wonderful evening.” Meredith glanced down at her list to double-check that the d’Arcements were indeed at table twenty-three. She had to keep reminding herself there had been too many last-minute changes to rely totally on her visual memory of the seating chart.
After more than half of the three hundred expected guests had arrived, one of the newer workers looked at Meredith in awe. “Wow. You know everybody. You haven’t once had to ask anyone’s name.”
“I’ve been doing this a very long time, and most of the people who are coming tonight have come to this event every year since we started. A lot of them come to most of the events we do.” She looked over as two of the elevators opened at the same time. Her parents and several other couples came toward them.
Meredith greeted everyone by name and handily sent them with servers to their tables. She stepped away from the service staff to speak with her parents, while still keeping an ear out for the chime that indicated an arriving elevator.
“How’s it looking?” her father asked, craning his neck to glance around the venue.
“We’ll have a few latecomers as usual, but it looks like the majority have chosen to show up on time this year. It really helped to put on all of the mailers they received that dinner would be served
Mom, instead of looking around the room, scrutinized Meredith. “You look gorgeous tonight, Mere. Is that new?”
Meredith looked down at the wine-colored gown. “I picked it up at a consignment store down in Baton Rouge last time I was there.”
“The color’s perfect on you. I know you get tired of hearing this, but I do so prefer to see you dressed up than in those torn-up, paint-splattered clothes you like to wear on the weekends.” Mom reached out as if to touch
