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— he was now one of those TV chefs. Oh, the irony. “The jacket is actually a very practical piece of the kitchen uniform in addition to looking good. It’s double-breasted to protect from burns, but also, if something gets spilled, it can be rebuttoned with the other side out to hide the stain.” He went on for another minute or two on the design and proper usage of the chef’s jacket.

“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.

Lord, I love Meredith. I want to marry her. Please, show me what 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 at seven o’clock.” Her gaze caught on the black-clad cameraman and his spotter in the corner near the orchestra. She was glad she’d won the battle, insisting on one stationary camera out of the main line of sight of the guests rather than the two or three cameramen wandering around in the room Alaine had wanted, their bright lights interfering with the mood set by the thousands of candles now reflecting off the walls and ceiling.

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 Meredith’s cheek but lowered her hand again. “Forbes told us that you were feeling like we don’t respect you or your position in the company.”

Meredith closed her eyes and rasped her breath in the back of her throat. “He shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t his place.”

“No. It was yours. Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Instead of looking affronted, sadness filled her mother’s expression.

“I guess because I thought that you’d eventually realize you were riding roughshod over me. I thought if I put up with it long enough, you’d see that you treat me differently than any of the other executive directors.” Meredith wished she hadn’t taken her jacket off. Chill bumps danced up and down her arms.

“You’re right.” Dad rested his hand on her shoulder. “We have been taking advantage of the fact that you’re our daughter. And we promise that’s going to stop.”

“But you have to make us a promise in return.” Mom smiled. “You have to promise that you’ll come to us and talk about these things before they make you so mad that you take it out on other members of the family. Okay?”

Leave it to Forbes and Jenn to make it all about them. “Okay.”

The elevator chimed, saving her from more awkward parental attention. They moved on to take their seats, and Meredith returned to her post.

The room buzzed with voices, the twelve-piece orchestra barely discernible above the din. Meredith couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. Though the lead-up to tonight had been anything but easy, seeing their guests—dressed in their glittering best—talking and laughing and enjoying themselves was one of the moments she lived for.

A Bible verse strayed through her thoughts: “Give her the product of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.”

She hoped her parents meant what they said about showing her more respect from now on, but if not, she would learn how to be content with knowing that by creating a good “product” through hard work and dedication, God would reward her with fulfillment and the pleasure she could take in the praise of her guests’ enjoyment.

A burst of static startled her. “It’s five till seven.” Major’s voice came over her earpiece. “Jana, please send the rest of the service staff into the kitchen.”

Meredith pressed the talk button on her module. “I’ll let my father know to get things rolling.”

He must have checked his watch, because before she could leave her post, Dad glanced over at her with raised brows. She nodded, and he stepped up onto the stage. To the side of the platform, the sound tech gave him a thumbs-up.

“Good evening, friends.” Dad’s voice boomed over the crowd, which immediately quieted. “Happy Valentine’s Day and welcome to the Eleventh Annual Hearts to HEARTS Banquet and Charity Auction to raise funds for the Warner Cardiac Unit at University Hospital. I hope you came prepared to enjoy a wonderful dinner ... and to spend lots of money at the auction. I’ve been told that we have some fabulous items that you’re all going to want to bid on. Now join with me in asking the Lord’s blessing on the meal.”