The Christmas Wedding Swap. Allyson Charles
usually take Tuesdays off,” her mother said, lips pursed.
Damn it. Why had she told her family her schedule? But… “I have Sadie’s wedding to plan and a new cook I have to keep an eye on. Just hired him a week ago.” Not that Luke needed anyone else watching him. The waitresses were practically climbing into his pants. One even thanked Allison for hiring him, saying he was going to be her Christmas bonus. And her two part-time fry cooks had been completely charmed by his easy compliments. Suckers. They had taught Luke the recipes with a patience they never showed their boss.
Because her mother loved Sadie almost as much as Allison did, she ignored the bit about the wedding. Instead, she dug into the meat of their recurring argument. “You spend too much time at your diner. You’ll never meet anyone nice if you’re working there all the time. Don’t you want to get married?”
And there it was. The disappointment. The confusion as to why one of her daughters had fallen short of the dream. Success in her mother’s eyes was measured by a ring on the finger and a white-collar career. Not only was she single, but being the owner of a greasy spoon fell far short of her sisters’ careers of attorney and pediatrician.
But the hell of it was, even knowing how unfair her family’s expectations were, she did want to get married. Have a family. Was it her fault the men she dated just didn’t rev her engines or couldn’t accept that she spent fifteen-hour days at her restaurant?
“I do date,” she reminded her family. “Two weeks ago I went out with an accountant from Marysville.” By the time they’d gotten to dessert, the poor guy had finally realized that Allison was more interested in the accounting software he used than in him.
She beat a rhythm on the table with her fork. She still hadn’t finished transferring all of her data to the new program.
Her mother waved her hand, dismissive. “That online stuff doesn’t count. You need to meet someone the old-fashioned way.”
John looked up from his plate. “Actually, I read that sixty percent of today’s marriages started with an online meeting.” He stabbed his fork at the pile of fluffy eggs on his plate. “This is really good, Allison.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s the combination of green chilies and sharp cheddar cheese.” She turned back to her mom and sister. “And I’m still texting with some guys from the dating sites. I’ll probably meet up with some of them.”
“‘Probably’?” Her mother shook her head. “‘Meet up’? This is your problem, Allison. You don’t take your dating life seriously enough.”
“Dating shouldn’t be a job,” Allison grumbled. Sighing, she made a last-ditch effort to ward off the inevitable. “I have to spend a lot of time at The Pantry. Business is doing well.”
Her father gave an encouraging grunt, which she appreciated. She’d take any support for her business she could get.
Her mother folded her hands on her lap. “You didn’t go to two years of culinary school to run a diner.” The disdain was as thick as hollandaise sauce.
“Actually, that’s exactly why I went to culinary school: to own my own restaurant.” Allison took a deep breath and kept her voice calm. The Stuarts didn’t tolerate scenes being made at Sunday brunch. “You just don’t like that my dream restaurant is a diner.”
“I don’t like that my daughter spends all her time working there. There’s more to life than what’s inside your restaurant.” Her mother’s words were reasonable, something Allison had told herself many times before. But the years had taught her there was a subtext behind them. That what her mother really meant was Allison’s choices had been mistakes.
Even when faced with her siblings’ successes, their happy families, Allison could usually brush off the pressure her family put on her to settle down. But that was proving more difficult this year. Whether it was because her own biological clock was ticking like a time bomb or because she was spending a lot of time planning her best friend’s wedding, she didn’t know.
She could argue more—or call up one of the men she’d swiped right on and make her own date. But she was tired of fighting, and she wanted everyone to eat their brunch in peace. Her shoulders slumped. “Tell me more about Richard,” she said, ignoring her sister’s squeal and happy little hand clap.
Who knew? Maybe an investment advisor was just the man for her. Just because he met with her mother’s approval didn’t mean he would be as boring as his job.
And if he was, would that be such a bad thing? Someone steady. Dependable. Looking for a family. Allison was used to spicing things up. If she could dress up broccoli so even her nieces liked it, surely she could do the same thing for a bland man.
* * * *
Allison pushed open the back door to The Pantry and stomped the snow from her shoes. Heat and the aroma of fried chicken wafted over her. Unzipping her coat, she looked around the kitchen. One of her part-time fry cooks was the only person in sight.
“Delilah, where’s Luke?”
The girl lifted an arm with Chinese symbols tattooed around the wrist and pointed to the front. “Place is dead. He’s taking a break.” After shaking the grease from a half-full basket of fries, Delilah slid a handful onto a plate next to a chicken salad sandwich and shoved it toward Allison. “You wanna take this out? It’s counter service.”
Taking the plate, Allison put her back to the swinging kitchen door and stepped into the dining room. It was quiet this time of day, the lull between lunch and dinner. The clink of silverware from the man seated in the corner booth was the only sound she heard over the Muzak. Sadie and Luke sat at the counter, heads together, talking in a murmur. Allison paused, a knot forming in her belly. Her new fry cook and her best friend getting cozy could lead to nothing but trouble.
Allison plastered a smile on her face. “This sandwich for you?” she asked Sadie.
“Thanks.” Sadie pushed her bangs across her forehead. “I’m meeting Colt here later and we’re going over to the Cake Vault for a tasting. Luke was asking about our dinner menu for the wedding.”
Luke placed his elbows on the counter, the soft cotton of his heather-gray Henley stretching tautly across his biceps. “I like the idea of a Cajun butternut squash soup as the first course. It’s a unique pairing combination.”
“That is one of my favorite recipes,” Allison said, cocking a hip against the counter and leaning across Luke to look at the list in front of Sadie. Seeing that nothing new had been added since yesterday, Allison blew out a sigh of relief.
“But I question your decision for the main course.”
Allison stilled. “What’s wrong with my main course?”
He held the rim of his coffee mug with his fingertips, ignoring the handle, and raised it to his mouth. “It’s a bit cliché, isn’t it? Turkey for a Christmas wedding?”
Jerking a kitchen towel off a rack, Allison attacked the water rings left behind from lunch, bussing a plate as she cleaned her way down the counter. “It’s traditional, classic. Besides, Sadie and Colt like turkey.” Hands on hips, she faced her friend. “Don’t you?”
“We like everything you cook.” Colt McCoy strode through the door, unwinding a scarf from his neck. Targeting his bride-to-be, Colt strode to her seat and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. “Missed you, princess.”
“You just saw me three hours ago.” The grin Sadie couldn’t suppress contradicted her rolling eyes.
“Doesn’t matter. I—”
“Guys”—Allison made a T out of her two hands—“please, time out with the PDAs. You’ll make the few customers I have sick. Or worse, give them ideas.” She turned to the corner booth. “Freddie, your wife doesn’t want to see you home this early. Ignore the show.”
The