"Second place, a grand distinction in itself..."
Kevin's hand was a vise on mine. I squeezed back, out of pain and nerves. Neither grip loosened.
"Coming in at the number two spot today ... Angel Cakes!"
There had been so much hype in the announcement that for a split second, I thought Angela had won. It wasn't until Kevin's arms were around me that I realized the name that wasn't called was the winner. We were the winners.
The applause was thunderous, but I didn't hear it. Roberta was rattling on about what we'd won, but I didn't comprehend a word. We'd done it. Somehow we'd managed to pull it off. I could save Let's Dish, I could move out of my parents’ basement and I could raise my baby in the kitchen of my happy little Victorian house, just the way I had dreamed.
"Oh my God!” Kevin screamed in my ear. “Did you hear that? We did it!"
Angela's smile was sweet, but the sour glare behind her eyes was evident as she shook my hand. She didn't even bother to offer to shake Kevin's. He didn't seem to care much. He was still gripping me, shaking me up and down.
"Congratulations, Let's Dish!” Roberta cried, and Kevin came to a stop.
He smiled at me, his teeth flashing like Prince Charming. Then, as if we were all alone in the room, he kissed me. Soft, sweet and full of everything he'd been trying to say to me for the last month. When I opened my eyes, his smile was broad and I was ready to forgive him for whatever he and Lyla had cooked up.
"Well, I suppose you got what you wanted,” my father said from beside me. I turned to face him, shocked back into reality by his rough voice. “Congratulations, kiddo."
"Thanks, Daddy."
"Oh, Maggie! Kevin! I knew you two would patch things up!” My mother had one hand on Kevin's shoulder and one on mine, pushing us back together as I tried to extricate myself from a very public embrace. “When's the wedding?"
"Ma!"
"As soon as we finish remodeling Let's Dish,” Kevin said.
My eyes bugged out of my head. “What?” But I didn't have time to figure out if he was serious or not.
"Congratulations!” Lyla squealed as she and Armand bounded up to me, a huge lemon cream pound cake balanced on a tray between them. “I knew you'd win, Maggie! I just knew it!"
"Lyla! You're speaking to me?"
"Well of course I am, silly!” She passed the cake off to Kevin and gave me a hug that knocked the breath out of me. “Forgive us, Maggie? Armand started working for Fred so he could make enough money to fix the Dish. We wanted to tell you, but—"
"What?"
Lyla blushed. “It's like working for the enemy, I know, but Fred promised Armand a share of the business if he designed a new menu and created some signature dishes. He was trying to buy him off from you, but the way we saw it was why not make him pay for the renovations on the Dish. When he offered Armand half the prize money from this competition, he figured he'd give it a shot.” She looked from me to Kevin, beaming. “But obviously we know where the talent lies. So we're only able to give you ten thousand."
I was numb with shock. “Ten thousand what?” Why was I thinking pumpkins?
"Dollars, you goof! That's what Armand got for revamping Fred's menu. We want to give it to you. To help rebuild."
She put a slip of paper in my hand and I nearly passed out when I saw all the zeros. I looked at Armand, dumbfounded. “Armand?"
He smiled at me, relief showing on his face. “I hated the way we left things. And then not telling you our plan. Well, it was tough. But we knew you'd never let us go through with it. But I'd like to come back. That is, if you'll have me."
My arms somehow found their way around Armand's neck. “Of course I'll have you. Let's Dish is your home.” My cheeks were wet and I wondered how long I had been crying.
"That's terrific.” Kevin's voice didn't sound as happy as it had only a few minutes before. “But, Lyla, I only piped Congratulations on this cake for Maggie. What's with the booties and blocks?"
"What?” Don't ask me exactly who said that, because I think it was a combination of my voice and my mother's.
Lyla grinned. “Because this is not only a cake to congratulate my brilliant best friend, but an impromptu baby shower for Bob!"
I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.
My mother took a long, tight breath. “Who is Bob?” Her voice was a mere squeak.
"Mom, Dad,” I said, wondering if I really was going to end up forgiving Lyla after all, “there's something I have to tell you."
My mother's mouth was a fine, hard line. My father looked like he was about to beat Kevin to a bloody pulp.
"Yes, Margaret Mary, it seems you do.” My mother's voice was as cold as liquid nitrogen.
I'd practiced this a thousand times, at least in my head. I still had no idea how I was going to do it. So I just did it. “Mom, Dad, I'm pregnant."
"You're what?” Kevin blanched. “I just thought that ... you know, with all the stress, sometimes women put on a little ... Pregnant?"
"Young man, you have some explaining to do.” My father was hovering menacingly over Kevin's head as Kevin flopped into a metal chair.
"Dad, cool it. It's not Kevin's. I mean, he and I haven't even—” I stopped right there. Dad's keen glare had moved on from Kevin to aim itself right at me.
"Oops,” Lyla said. “Sorry, Mags, I thought you would have told them by now."
"Margaret Mary!” Dad didn't yell often. I wasn't really keen on him doing it in the middle of the Civic Center. Where it reverberated. “Do not tell me that this child is born of sin out of wedlock."
I squirmed like a little kid. “Well, technically, only by a few hours. I mean, Ted and I had signed the divorce papers by then, but the ink wasn't even dry."
"Ted!” my mother screamed, and it looked for a moment like she was going to faint. “No, my Lord! Sweet Mary, not Ted!"
"Ted?” Kevin went paler than I'd ever seen him before. Even when he'd been covered in flour.
"Well, he was my husband.” Leave it to these guys to hit upon every ounce of shame I had.
"And does he want it?” My father's arms were crossed and, apparently, so was he.
I swallowed, looking around at all the faces surrounding me, which happened to include Roberta Hansen and the judges. “Lyla and I went to Atlantic City,” I started, not wanting to just say “no” and leave it at that. “He's ... Ted's just not ready to be a father."
My mother crossed herself. “Oh, thank the Lord.” I'm not sure if she was more relieved that Ted would not be making a reappearance in my life, if the baby was semi-legitimate, or that I was pregnant instead of fat. It's hard to say with my mother.
Again, I looked at the faces around me. The expressions were a mixture of apologetic, frightened, shocked and amused. But there was one thing everyone had in common. Pity. And I was sick and tired of pity.
"Listen, folks.” I called to my voice all the gumption and determination I could muster. “This is my child. Mine. As far as I am concerned, Ted never even has to see him. Or her.” I turned to face my parents directly. “And if you two can't accept this, then you don't need to, either."
My mother swallowed and my dad looked like he was ready to call my bluff. The thing was I wasn't bluffing. I'd been saying for years I was sick and tired of being pushed around. This time I finally meant it.
I turned to Kevin. “I'm not sure just what the hell is going on between us, but I think you need time to digest this. But the simple fact is I'm going to be a mother. So if you want me, you want my kid, too, because I'm no longer a solo act."
I then turned to Armand and Lyla, who both were grinning from ear to ear. “You two. I expect you at Let's Dish first thing in the morning. We've got a lot of contractors to call and a lot of cleaning up to do to get up and running again. Hell, maybe we'll even expand! Who knows? But there is one thing I do know.” I scanned across the entire crowd, never letting my resolve break. “If I can pull this contest out the hat, I can manage anything
. With or without anyone's help."
A flutter went through my belly again, as if Bob was granting his approval of my speech. I rubbed my tummy, hoping the love I already felt for him or her could sink in through the skin. That baby had changed my life, and not just in the normal ways. Bob had finally brought me into my own.
Roberta was holding the check in her limp hand. I slipped it out of her grasp, kissed it with melodramatic flair, and put it in my pocket. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the rest of my life to get on with."
I turned, not even looking back at their faces, and headed out the door. I wasn't exactly sure where I was going, but somehow I knew it would be a good place.
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Chapter Twenty-one
"I think we should knock out that wall to extend the dining room, put the new Sub-Zero here and the new Viking range"—I gestured toward the opposite wall—"right there.” It was nine the next morning, and I stood at what was left of the island in my kitchen at the Dish.
"And my new office?” Lyla asked.
"I want to add on to the back to make a new butler's pantry and an office. You can even pick out the paint color."
Armand grinned. “And a granite countertop for the pastry station?"
"Naturally."
He looked around the room and put a charred cabinet door on the back counter. “Well, the first thing we need to do is get this place cleaned up. What do you say, Ly? Want to come with me while I rent a dumpster for the debris?"
"I still write the checks around here, don't I?” she asked.
I smiled, feeling like I had my family back. “As if you'd let me near the checkbook."
She came over and gave me a hug. “Good to be back."
"Better to have you back,” I said, and Armand winked at me as he led Lyla out the back door.
I went back to measuring the space, contemplating remodeling options. I was going to expand, add wait staff, and get all the new appliances I'd been dreaming of.
I was heady with my own power.
After the initial shock wore off, my folks were still reserved about the baby, but Mom was already making plans to show off Bob at next spring's church bazaar and Dad was trying to find out if they made Packers onesies.
I was considering where I wanted to put the new commercial dishwasher when I heard a scuffling in the dining room. I didn't even need to look. I knew who it was.
Kevin came into the kitchen, his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket and a sheepish grin on his face. “Is this the part when you ask me what the hell I'm doing here?"
"No. I think I know this time. And it's okay."
His brows knitted. “What's okay?"
I shrugged and smiled. “I get it. I'm carrying another man's kid. That tends to complicate things."
"Yeah.” He still looked confused.
"Our problem has always been timing, I think. Well, timing and my tendency for revisionist history. But maybe fate just never wanted us together. I can't say I'm not disappointed but I'll survive.” And I meant it. I was calm, cool, and still hormonal, but I knew I'd survive anything I needed to. Me and Bob.
"Um, Maggie—"
"There's no need to apologize. I understand this is just too much to deal with."
"That's not exactly it,” he said. “Maggie, when you left yesterday—"
My heart pounded and my palms started sweating. “Yes?"
His eyes were piercing as he took a step toward me. “Maggie, you took the check."
My face fell, and my gut went with it. “Oh. God, of course. I'm sorry. Let me cut you a check for your half. Damn, Lyla has the checkbook. Here, I'll fill out a personal one."
I turned to reach for my purse, but Kevin's hand fell on my arm and spun me back to him. His mouth landed on mine and he pressed into me. My head exploded with the rush of blood and sensation, and I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as his were holding me. I didn't even have to think about it. This was what I wanted. He was who I wanted. There was no guilt, no anger, nothing but Kevin and me. And Bob, who was kicking furiously.
"Lyla's right,” he whispered to me when he finally removed his lips from mine. “You're a goof."
I ran my hands through his hair, memorizing every wave and curl. I stared at those eyes I'd been avoiding for years and moved my fingertips over the crinkles at the curve of his lips. “But what about the baby?"
He kissed me on the tip of my nose. “He can call me ‘Dad'. We'll tell him the truth, of course. I think it should just be general knowledge from the beginning, but if you think we should wait until he's older to tell him—"
"What are you talking about?” I didn't dare believe what I was hearing.
Kevin laughed and stroked my face. “He's a part of you, Maggie, and I love every part of you. I should have told you that yesterday."
It wasn't possible. My life couldn't go from a wreck to completely in order in twenty-four hours. “Are you sure? You really want to be with me?"
He rocked me, his hands linked behind my back and holding me to him. “Remember what your mother asked yesterday?"
Okay, there was the familiar feeling of deathly embarrassment. “Oh, God, Kevin, you have to ignore her. She just wants to marry me off as quickly as humanly possible so no one asks questions about the kid."
"She's not the only one."
My eyes flew open. “Huh?"
"Well, I don't care about people asking questions about the kid, but I decided the first time I saw you cook that we were meant to be partners. And I don't just mean in the kitchen. But right now, it's all about you and me and what kind of life we want to make together."
Some women might have been tempted to faint right then and there, but there was no way I was missing out on this. This was one of those moments that come along once in a lifetime. This was a moment worth the pain and the heartbreak that brought us here.
"What are you saying?"
Kevin took my hand and went down on his knee right in a pile of ash. “Maggie Donnely, I love you and want to make you my wife. I want to make your child my child. And I would have proposed yesterday. On a cleaner floor. But I had to go home and get this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny velvet box. Opening it, he flashed a sparkling solitaire diamond. I gasped. “I've had this ring for a long time,” he said. “I knew one day you'd wear it."
I offered my hand, but it was shaking so hard it took him three tries to get the ring over my knuckle. I looked into his eyes through my tears. “I never even dreamed..."
"I did,” he whispered. “And you were worth the wait."
I sank down beside him on the dirty floor and kissed him. “So were you."
He put his cheek next to mine and our tears mingled. He kissed me on the earlobe, hugged me tight, and whispered, “So about that check..."
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About the Author
Catherine Wade has been telling stories since she can remember. She wrote her first novel at thirteen, but it wasn't until after her children were born that she realized this might be a fun way to make a living. Catherine has written non-fiction, mystery, women's fiction, paranormal romance and even some sci-fi, but always feels most at home making people laugh.
Raised in Wyoming, Catherine currently lives in South Dakota with her husband, three sons, and a menagerie of pets who insist on expressing their creativity by walking across her keyboard.
To learn more about Catherine Wade please visit www.catherinewade.com. Send an email to [email protected] or sign up for her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with Catherine and other readers: groups.yahoo.com/group/catherinewade.
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Look for these titles by Catherine Wade
Coming Soon:
Another Time Around
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A feisty auto mechanic and a hunky chef cook up chaos!
Kitchen Matches
© 2008 Marianne Arkins
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br /> Cori Weathers is a wizard with a torque wrench, but the moment she lays eyes on her cooking teacher, Micah DePalma, her lessons turn into a klutzy symphony of flying poultry and burning aprons. It makes no sense. He couldn't be less her type: tall, skinny, and born with a silver spoon in his mouth. So why is her heart sputtering like a badly tuned engine?
Despite family pressure to date only women of his own social class, something about the cooking-challenged spitfire lights all Micah's burners. Cori's a complex dish inside a deceptively simple coating, one he's willing to risk tackle football and jealous ex-boyfriends to sample.
His every attempt to crack her stubborn heart strikes sparks. Will they ignite the flame of love—or explode into just another kitchen disaster?
Warning: This story contains flying poultry, annoying older brothers, the occasional quote from Shakespeare, and enough sexual tension to overheat ovens—and engines.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Kitchen Matches:
Corinne Weathers, Cori to her friends and family—but not to her very proper cooking class teacher, Micah DePalma—gave a squeak of fear at the flames creeping up her apron. She slapped at them with her potholder, but it didn't help. Her throat was so tight with panic, she couldn't cry out for help. With one last futile whack at the growing fire, and desperately trying to remain calm, Cori reached behind her neck to untie the apron straps. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the bow and pulled it into a good, solid knot.
A brief hissing sound was the only warning she got before clouds of whatever white stuff lurked inside a fire extinguisher smacked into her gut like a fist and drifted in a halo around her head.
She coughed and waved a hand in the air in an attempt to clear it. “Thanks."
"You're welcome.” A familiar male voice threaded through the cloud.
Cori grimaced. Ack. Saved by Micah DePalma, her handsome-but-cranky cooking teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone—anyone—else? She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for something to rescue her from his wrath. She knew a lecture was on its way, knew she deserved one for setting herself on fire, but she really didn't want to hear it.
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