by Irene Brand
“Just lucky, I guess.” Swallowing a giggle, she secured a fancy bow on her last package and curled the ribbons with her scissors. When she caught him staring at her package, she explained, “Mom and I compete to have the prettiest wrapped gifts under the tree.”
“So that’s it. The kinds of gifts you see at my parents’ house come professionally wrapped from the jeweler. Mother always pretends she doesn’t know where they’re from, and we sit around wearing suits and ties and chuckling at her guesses.”
“It sounds as if you’ll have a blast tomorrow then.”
“I will. I’ll be here.”
“Here?” she repeated, ignoring her racing pulse. The last thing she needed was to spend another day with David.
“You don’t think I would miss seeing Joy open her presents tomorrow, do you?”
Her lips pulled up. “Of course not. But your parents live in town. Won’t they be upset that you won’t be there? Mom is sulking that I won’t be in Louisville.”
“We’ll get together later. They’ll barely miss me at dinner since Mother is counting on a meal for twenty-five. It wouldn’t be Christmas at Lloyd and Evelyn Wright’s home without the mayor, the sheriff, the town board. Mother’s serving squab, I hear.”
“Does your mother pull off a dinner party like that all by herself?”
“Absolutely.” David winked. “Well, she does have the caterer’s number on speed dial, and she’s careful to set the menu with him by September first.”
“Sounds elegant.”
“Always.”
“And dull.”
“Always.”
Sondra chuckled. “No wonder you’re coming here.”
“I can’t wait. I’m going to videotape.”
He sounded so excited that she couldn’t help smiling until another thought struck her. “Wait. You said dinner. I haven’t even talked to Allison about what she wants for the Christmas meal.”
Panic had her hands sweating. She’d had plenty of titles behind her name, but cook was never one of them. Her only claims to fame in the kitchen were abilities to burn water and overcook minute rice.
David waved away her concern with his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s under control. Allison accepted my offer to make the whole dinner.”
She’d just been getting comfortable with him, and here he went again with his one-upmanship best-friend thing. She didn’t even know when he would have found time to volunteer to be the holiday chef between completing his own list of chores and critiquing hers. Well, if he’d been confident enough of his cooking skills to offer to do the whole job then they would at least have a decent meal.
At the sound of footsteps, Sondra turned to see Allison padding through the doorway, her IV stand in tow.
“The place looks great, guys.”
David crossed to her and placed his hand under her elbow to steady her. “Sweetie, you’re supposed to be in bed. If you needed something, you should have called me.”
“I’m fine. Really. I need to get cleaned up before my doctor’s appointment.”
“Uh, okay.” He rolled his lips inward, clearly embarrassed that he couldn’t help his friend with her personal care, too.
Allison smiled. “Oh, David, I was thinking more about Christmas dinner.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control. Borkley’s Market has a fresh sixteen-pound turkey and yeast rolls waiting for me, and I’ve got the grocery list ready.”
Allison settled back on her sofa daybed. “That’s great, but I was thinking—”
“Turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls, peas, pumpkin pie and chocolate chip cookies for Joy. Can you think of anything else?”
Sondra didn’t know about her cousin, but she couldn’t think of anything. She was in awe of anyone who could pull a holiday meal together. David apparently could do that with one hand while planning a winning court strategy with the other.
She’d never felt so outdone. He’d finally proven he was a far better choice to help Allison than she could ever hope to be. She should just pack up her bags and give him space to work.
“No, that sounds like a complete menu,” Allison said. “But, as I said before I was interrupted, I was thinking that you could use some help in the kitchen. You and Sondra should cook Christmas dinner together. Isn’t that a wonderful idea?”
Their answer came as a simultaneous “wonderful” that was as unenthusiastic as David’s earlier comment.
David kept staring at Sondra as if expecting her to gracefully decline. Over my dead body, a competitive and, this time, dangerous side of her declared. There might be dead bodies, if she did anything more than stir the dinner pot. But the way David was taunting her, she couldn’t have backed down now, even for an immediate job promotion. She was in, and she was sticking.
Well, she had about twelve hours to become a cook at least half as incredible as David seemed to think he was. Improbable but not impossible. There was only one thing she knew for sure: This would be a Christmas to remember.
Chapter Four
David closed the door to the wall oven and wiped his hands on his apron. Daylight had barely taken hold on Destiny’s Christmas morning, and he and Sondra had already been slaving over a not-yet-hot stove for more than two hours.
Outside the kitchen, the Chandler house was silent as Brock had already left for work and Joy was still snoozing contentedly in her crib. David’s gift to Allison this morning would be a few extra hours of shut-eye.
He peeked through the window of the double oven, satisfied to see the dark spices dotting the skin of the still-pink bird.
“Well, that’s one thing down.”
“One down and ninety-nine to go?”
He turned to see Sondra watching him from the table where she’d been peeling and chopping potatoes and tossing them in a big pot for the last twenty minutes. Already her face was smeared with what looked like flour, and she hadn’t even started baking yet.
“You don’t have to help, you know,” he told her. “It’s Christmas morning. Why don’t you just relax and let me take care of everything?”
He waited for the sparks to fly since he’d been itching for a fight ever since she’d let him in the front door, looking bright-eyed and fresh-faced.
A not-on-your-life-buddy glare crossed her features before her expression softened to a smile. “I wouldn’t dream of deserting you with all of this work, especially on Christmas Day.”
Go ahead. Desert me. Make my day. But he managed to contain his version of the famous Clint Eastwood line since he’d only have to apologize for it anyway. He doubted his idea that the only way Sondra could really help him would be to wait outside until she became the ice sculpture wouldn’t go over well, either.
“It would be difficult, but I could probably limp along on my own.”
“Good thing you won’t have to try.”
Her smile was a gloating one, so it only annoyed him further that he couldn’t help noticing how much prettier she looked when she smiled.
If she thought she was the best “man” for this job just because she could look downright inviting in a frilly apron that said, “Honey the Chef,” then she had another think coming. This Christmas dinner was his gig, and he was only letting her play along because it seemed so important to Allison. He hadn’t had the heart to tell his friend that it would take a lot more than baking with sugar and vanilla to make her cousin seem sweet to him.
Sondra dropped the last of the potato peels into the garbage and crossed to the sink to wash the potatoes. “So what’s next?”
How do I know? What had he been thinking, offering to make the whole meal when he’d never even eaten a homemade Christmas dinner, let alone cooked one? His mother’s catering plans didn’t sound so bad now.
Why had Allison taken him up on his offer anyway, when she knew perfectly well that his culinary abilities were limited to spaghetti sauce out of a jar and anything with instructions on the box? He shrugged. She probably fi
gured that a Christmas dinner à la canned pasta was better than none at all.
“Why don’t you check on Joy while I go over my list?” he asked, to buy some time.
As Sondra left, he released the breath he’d been holding and turned to his notes, which were really only parts of last night’s shopping list. Sure, he’d known what to buy from the pictures on the grocery story circular, but beyond that, he was at a loss.
Where exactly did one stuff stuffing? How did a candied yam get candied? And what did he do with that can of stuff that looked like cranberry gelatin that he’d already opened by mistake?
What he wouldn’t have given if his parents had left him a step-by-step holiday dinner manual under the tree that morning. Still, he would rather let someone tie his legs together and bake him before he would let Sondra know that someone besides the turkey was winging it here.
“Pie crust,” he said when she returned. “Why don’t you get started on that?”
Her eyes widened as if he’d just spoken to her in a foreign language, but she squared her shoulders and nodded. “I can do that.”
Then she reached into one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a cookbook.
She answered his questioning glance with a shrug. “Found this last night. Figured it might come in handy.”
“Just might.” More than she knew. He turned to wash his hands in the sink, trying not to let his relief show.
That he’d been beginning to question their competence suddenly annoyed him. He and Sondra were both college graduates. That meant they had managed to learn a thing or two from books. They could handle this. At least he could.
“Are you making the filling?” she asked as she poured a cup of flour into a mixing bowl.
“Of course.” He held up a can of pumpkin that he was pleased to see had a recipe right on the label. He used it as his guide to set the temperature on the lower oven.
“Good. Then it’s a team effort.”
Well, not exactly a team. More a chef and his kitchen crew. But he decided to keep that to himself, because as much as he hated to admit it, he just might need Sondra’s help to get all of this done.
Just as he scraped the pumpkin into a bowl, Allison padded into the kitchen, already dressed in slacks and a loose-fitting blouse instead of her pajamas. She still looked pale, the way she had for the last several weeks, but she was wearing a bright smile.
“Merry Christmas you two. Aren’t you guys ready?” she asked as she dragged a hairbrush through her damp hair.
“Happy Christmas, cousin.” Sondra waved a flour-covered hand but barely looked up from her mission.
“Merry Christmas. What do you mean, ready?” David cocked his head. “Dinner won’t be finished for a few hours.” How few or how many hours he didn’t know for sure, but he didn’t want to worry her.
Allison shook her head. “I mean for church. Christmas service. You didn’t forget, did you?”
As a matter of fact, he had, and from the way that Sondra jerked her head up from her work, he wasn’t alone.
Sondra shrugged. “I usually go Christmas Eve. That’s when our church in Louisville has its service. But sure, we can go.”
David only frowned. He should have known if he were going to escape the drudgery of his family’s picture-perfect Christmas to hang with the Chandlers, it would cost him. The price: church attendance. As if the whole manger event hadn’t been a big enough dose of the true Christmas spirit for one year.
This was going to require a different tack. He crossed to Allison and rested his hands on her forearms. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go? The doctor said—”
She jerked out of his reach. “I know what he said. That I’m just fine. He even released me from my IV ball and chain.”
“Still, he told you to take it easy, to listen to your body…for your sake and for the baby’s sake.”
Okay, he’d been over the top to mention her unborn child, but he didn’t think his action warranted the evil eye she was giving him.
“Of course, you’re fine,” Sondra interjected in a soothing voice. “He’s just concerned about you. We both are.”
How did Sondra know what he was? And since when did he need a third party intervening for him with his best friend? That answer was simple: since Sondra blew into Destiny. Okay, the evidence was circumstantial, but he was willing to hand down his judgment anyway.
“I’m fine. I don’t even feel nauseated this morning. I’ve missed so much church lately. You’re not going to keep me from going on Christmas, are you?”
At the same time, David and Sondra shook their heads. He didn’t know what Sondra’s excuse was, but he’d already established that he couldn’t deny his friend anything.
Allison grinned. “Good. I’ll get Joy ready. Can you two be ready in a half hour?”
David shot a glance at Sondra, who lifted an eyebrow before returning to her mixing. Clearly, she was expecting him to answer, to know what to answer. He was just going to have to, that was all.
“We’ll just toss this pie in the oven and get ready.”
Having mixed in the shortening and shaped her flour mess into a ball, Sondra looked up again. “Yeah, it will only take a few minutes.”
“Great.” Allison rolled her lips inward as if she was holding back a smile as she hurried out of the room.
“She doesn’t think we can do this,” Sondra said as soon as her cousin was out of earshot.
“Well, she’s wrong.” Annoyed, he cracked an egg on the side of his bowl and then had to dig a good-sized piece of shell out of the mixture. He frowned at Sondra as she fought back a grin. “Well, she is.”
“Okay.”
“Is that crust about ready?”
“I guess.” Sondra lifted her rolling pin to show him the uneven oval of dough on the counter. “I just have to get it in the pie pan now.”
That particular chore required both of them, and some water added to repair the tears in the dough, but before long they had orange-brown filling in the shell and he was settling the creation in the oven. Only a little filling sloshed over the side of the plate and landed on the oven element before he closed the door.
“Well, we did it.” Sondra peeked in the oven door and smiled.
“It will be done by the time we get home from church.”
They washed up and turned off the kitchen lights. David felt just a little smug with their accomplishment. This Christmas dinner thing was going to be a piece of cake. The best part of all was they would be able to have that cake and eat it, too.
Chapter Five
An acrid scent escaped from the kitchen when Sondra turned Allison’s key in the lock and pushed open the side-entrance door.
“The oven!” Sondra shrieked as she rushed into the kitchen. She stared at the oven door, though she couldn’t see inside it.
“Aw, man!”
David pressed Joy into her mother’s arms, but he must have not heard Allison’s helpless “wait” because he rushed over and threw open the lower oven door. A cloud of black smoke rolled upward, and he had to jump back to avoid singeing his eyebrows. Next to him, Sondra shot out of the way, as well.
“Wait,” Allison said a second time, and the other two turned to stare.
Balancing a wide-eyed toddler on her hip, she crossed to the back door and propped it open. She turned to face them with a hint of a smile on her lips.
Sondra’s reaction was swift and startling. It was all she could do not to throw herself between her cousin and her cooking partner to shield him from criticism. And Allison hadn’t even criticized. She’d only smiled when they should have been laughing together. It was funny, wasn’t it?
Since when had she and David become allies instead opponents? He certainly hadn’t asked for her support, so she couldn’t understand her temptation to side with him whether he liked it or not.
As if the situation wasn’t chaotic enough, the kitchen smoke alarm started blaring. Sondra grabbed a dish-towel and flapped it
below the detector, but the machine continued to squeal.
David pointed to the oven. “You get the pie. I’ll get the alarm.” He stretched up and pulled the case off the smoke alarm and fiddled with the battery.
While he was still working, Sondra grabbed a pair of oven mitts and reached into the oven. At least she could see inside now well enough to retrieve what was left of the pie. No longer a festive orange, the pastry was charred and oily looking on top, and its crust was so over-cooked and brown that parts of it crumbled as she pulled it from the oven. She carried it out the back door and set it on the sidewalk. When it was cool enough not to melt the bag, it would go in the garbage where it belonged.
Behind her, the squawking stopped. David was opening the kitchen window when she came back through the door.
“I don’t really like pumpkin pie anyway,” she said.
“We torched it just for you.” Despite his sardonic tone, David’s lips turned up as he said it.
“Wow, my first Christmas present. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Was this oven my present?” Allison asked from behind them.
Both turned to see Allison examining her empty oven. Inside it, the liquid filling that had spilled over the sides of the pie had burned all over the heating element and the bottom.
Sondra shook her head. “No, cleaning it will be our present.”
“Do you think you could spill something in the garage? Brock needs a present, too.”
David curled his lip at her. “I’ve just crossed you both off my holiday list.” He went to her and relieved her of her child. “But this one,” he paused to nuzzle the baby, “she can have anything she wants.”
Sondra found it sweet the way David stared down at Joy with such adoration, as if he loved her to the bottom of his heart. The man was such a contradiction: someone with a reputed fear of commitment, but clearly his ties to his friends were deeply fused. He was committed. A small part of her wished she could be on the receiving end of David’s friendship.
