Marrying the Wrong Man (20 page)

“I’m not, but I don’t want him to know that yet. I have a meeting with the Mitchells after this. I’m going to get the bistro re-opened. I want to have everything in place before I tell him we’re staying. I want him to see how serious I am. He was willing to give up everything to be with me—twice. I want to make sure he doesn’t have to give up anything ever again. From now on, if anyone needs to sacrifice, it’s me.”

Alice’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose and Morgan held her breath as Charlie’s sister regarded her with exacting scrutiny.

“Well, amen,” she finally said, and then she smiled.

It was the first time Alice had smiled at her in years.

With one meeting down, Morgan headed confidently into the next. But her palms began to sweat and her mouth went dry the minute she faced all four Mitchells. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

Margaret and Justin glanced at Mark. No doubt he played a big part in getting them here.

Will, on the other hand, looked truly interested in whatever she had to say. His brows lifted high on his head. “What can we do for you?”

Again, Morgan forewent the chair. She paced the length of the boardroom table, trying to stabilize her heart rate. “I want you to reopen the bistro with Charlie as chef and Corbin as sous chef. I know you told him you wanted time and for him to get himself together … ” she drew air-quotes around the words, “but I can assure you that’s not necessary. The beer he was cited for was mine. He was protecting me and our daughter when he grabbed it out of my car and put it in his. Charlie is a good man and a good cook, and he deserves your respect and that restaurant. Everything he has is wrapped up in that dream, but he’s willing to leave town with me, so we can raise Charlotte together. That’s the kind of person he is. That’s the kind of person I want to be. So I’m staying here in Harmony Falls with him—as long as he has your full support.”

“
You
were drinking and driving?” Margaret asked.

Morgan sighed. “This isn’t about me, but no. I wasn’t. That beer was left over from a picnic that didn’t include Charlie.”

Mark cleared his throat. “I can vouch for that. Actually, I can do better than that. The beer was mine.”

Margaret’s eyes bulged. “You don’t drink beer.”

“I do.” Mark said. “Just not around you, because I know how much you hate it.”

Justin shook his head, and Will hid a laugh behind his hand.

“Forget about the beer,” Justin said. “This is about the bistro.”

Will nodded. “I’m okay with reopening. Charlie has my support. He always has.”

Justin and Mark agreed.

Margaret stared at something over the top of Morgan’s head. “Well, considering I’m the one who pushed you to waitress there in the first place, which wasn’t such a good idea, I suppose it’s only right to give him another chance.”

“Why did you push me there?” Morgan asked.

Justin raised his hand. “Let me answer this one. You knew it would bring people through the door didn’t you, Mother?”

“I thought it might cause a much-needed buzz about the restaurant, yes.”

Morgan frowned. She’d been a corporate sacrifice for her father, and now Margaret? Well, never again. “Just so we’re clear, I won’t be waitressing at the bistro when it reopens.” Margaret nodded. “I’ll be managing it. Charlie needs someone behind the scenes, dealing with the vendors and employees, so he can just cook.”

Margaret huffed. “Well, I don’t know how that’s going to work. What will people think after everything that’s happened?”

“I don’t care what people think.” Morgan smiled. It felt good to say those words and really mean them for the first time in her life. She’d learned that sort of gutsiness from Charlie. “This time, we’re going to put everything we have into making that place a success, and we’re going to do it together. That’s all I care about.”

“I think that’s great,” Justin said.

“And another thing.” This was the big one. “Before the bistro re-opens, I want it in writing that Charlie can buy you out as soon as he has the capital. I have twenty-five thousand dollars coming my way at some point, and I’ll be adding that to the twenty percent he already holds.”

Margaret gasped, Justin nodded, and Mark grinned.

“I think that’s reasonable,” Will said.

“Good.” This was easier than she’d thought it would be. Funny what happened when she was guided by love and not by fear. “Thank you. Now, one last thing…”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Margaret said.

Morgan smiled. “What are the chances you could reopen the bistro tomorrow or the next night?”

“Slim to none. Right, William?”

“Well, I don’t know. What’s the rush?” he asked.

“That’s where I’d like to ask Charlie to marry me.”

• • •

Charlie stared at the woman leaning against the refrigerator in Alice and Justin’s kitchen. She looked like Alice. She sounded like Alice. But, she had to be an imposter. His sister would’ve never taken this announcement so gracefully. “Did you hear what I said?”

She nodded. “Yep. I sure did.”

“And you’re not mad that I’m selling the house and moving to Denver.”

“Nope.”

“What about Morgan?”

“What about her?”

“She’s the reason I’m doing this.”

Alice lifted one shoulder and scrunched up her face. “I can’t worry about that anymore. I have Justin and my theater. I’m happy. I want you to be happy, too. If you’re telling me selling the house and running off with Morgan will make you happy, then who am I to stop you?”

Huh.
Charlie crossed his arms over his chest. She was being so damn mature about this. Maybe their last conversation finally sunk in. “You’re not worried about me drinking anymore?”

She shook her head. “I’ve always wanted to believe you were sober. I was just so scared that if I believed it, I’d let my guard down, and I wouldn’t be able to help you if you needed me to. I’m tired of being afraid, Charlie.”

Now that?
That
was his honest, sincere sister. “Thank you.”

She dabbed beneath her shiny eyes.

“Wow. I’m floored by how cool you’re being. Are you going to be this nice to Morgan when you see her again?”

“Of course.” But her expression tightened just a bit.

Gotcha!
He bit back a laugh. “That’s awesome. She’ll be so happy to hear it. We were worried we wouldn’t have any place to stay when we came back to town for holidays. Now, we can just stay here.”

She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut a second later.

“You’re up to something,” he said.

“Never.”

“Alice Cramer, you’ve been up to something since the day you were born.”

She cackled. “You’re paranoid. Get out of here, Charlie, before I change my mind and have the mayor invoke eminent domain over that house so you can’t move.” She lifted her chin real snooty like. “I know the mayor, and he would totally do that for me.”

Yeah. He knew the mayor, too, and that guy was definitely a sucker for melodramatic blondes.

The next day, when Charlie told Morgan about Alice’s reaction, her reaction was just as strange.

“That’s great.” She reached into his refrigerator and poured Charlotte a cup of milk.

Charlie’s brows shifted. It
was
great, but … “That’s all you have to say? Don’t you wonder why she isn’t more upset?”

“Don’t go borrowing trouble, Charlie. Let’s just be happy things are looking good and moving along.”

Maybe she was just trying to stay extra optimistic in preparation for Tuesday’s interview. “What if I went with you on Tuesday?”

“Where?”

“Denver.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Oh! The interview. Yeah. Sure.”

Weird.
“Okay. We could leave Charlotte with Alice and Justin for a couple nights.”

“That sounds great.”

Liar.

He watched his daughter shove a piece of homemade ravioli into her mouth. “I have no idea what’s going on around here, but I have job hunting to do.” He left the kitchen in search of his laptop.

“Wait,” Morgan yelled. “Not, yet. We, uh, wanted to play. Right, Charlotte?”

The little one bounced as she clapped. “Wets play! Wets play!”

Charlie crossed his arms and studied his girls. “What are you two up to?” Definitely something. Just like Alice.

Morgan shook her head. “Nothing.”

He stalked her across the kitchen. “What do you think, Charly? Should I believe her, or should I tickle torture her until she tells me the truth?”

“Don’t you dare!” Morgan held up her hands as she backed away from him.

Charlotte squealed.

Just as he reached for Morgan, the phone rang.

“Saved by the bell.” He grinned as he picked up the cordless receiver. ‘Private Number’ registered on the Caller ID. “Hello?”

“Charlie, it’s Will. Hey, uh, I know this is a strange request, but I’ve scheduled a private event at the bistro. Since you’re still on the payroll, I didn’t think you’d argue against cooking tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow? Talk about short-ass notice. Charlie ran a hand across his head and looked at Morgan. Her eyes were wide with interest. Talk about not knowing how to answer. Charlie hadn’t been sure he would ever cook in his bistro again. He still hadn’t told the Mitchells he was officially leaving. Certainly, Alice had spilled the beans by now.

It might be a nice send-off to cook at the bistro a few more times. He could teach Corbin some things that would help the kid take charge. But tomorrow?

“I don’t know, Will.” He wandered down the hall as he talked. “Tomorrow may be too tight. There’s a lot to do to get it ready to roll for a full service. I don’t have a menu or fresh ingredients.”

“Already taken care of. Supplies based off the last menu you prepared are being delivered to the bistro as we speak.”

Charlie squeezed the back of his neck as he let that sink in. What the hell was going on around here? “A private party, huh?”

“Sort of a family thing,” Will added.

That explained the rush and complete control Will had taken. Considering Charlie was about to leave the guy high and dry as soon as he found a job and another place to live, he supposed this was the least he could do. “Fine. What time should I be there?”

“Five o’clock should work. The servers will meet you there. All you’ll have to do is cook.”

When he returned to the kitchen, Morgan was cleaning Charlotte’s face and hands at the sink.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“I’m going to cook for a private party at the bistro tomorrow night.”

“Cool,” she said, her gaze never lifting from their daughter’s sticky fingers.

Maybe it was. He wasn’t sure. Today had been so damn confusing. And he was absolutely convinced there was something shady going on here.

Charlie opened the alley door and stepped into the bistro for the first time in ten days. That number didn’t seem too big, but the relief he felt when he stepped inside told him it’d been way too long.

He just missed cooking for a crowd. He’d get his fix tonight. Then he’d feel better. He wasn’t going to get hung up on leaving this place.

“Hey, Chef.” Corbin boxed him in the hallway, grinning from ear to ear. That goofy bow tie strangled his scrawny neck.

Charlie shook his head and smiled. “Hey, kid. Did you miss me?”

“I missed your red wine reduction sauce, ya know, since you won’t tell me the secret ingredient so I can make it myself. But I did not miss your diva-like tirades.”

Diva-like?
For some reason, he pictured himself wearing rhinestones. It wasn’t a good look. “I was kind of a jerk, wasn’t I?

“Sometimes,” Corbin said. “But I could handle it.”

He shouldn’t have had to. “I’m sorry. And to prove it I want you to stick around later tonight.”

“For what?”

“So I can teach you the reduction.” The lesson was long overdue. Besides, when he was gone from here, a part of him would remain in the bistro he’d built as long as someone was cooking his recipes.

Corbin tucked his chin to his chest and made a face. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Better than ever.”

“I don’t know if I can handle the power of a recipe like your red wine reduction. You sure?”

Charlie laughed. “Absolutely. Now, let’s cut the mushy crap and get cooking. I want you on salads, desserts, and soups.”

Corbin took two steps toward the kitchen, and then he stopped. “Wait a minute. You want me to cook … with you?”

“You’re my sous chef. Of course you’re cooking with me. The question is, if you’re cooking, who’s serving?”

“I am.” Mark Mitchell stood at the serving counter dressed in a white button-down and black pants with an apron tied around his waist.

“And me.” Justin stood beside him.

“And me.” Will popped his head between them.

Charlie scrunched up his face. “Okay, I’m just going to say what I’ve been thinking for the last two days. What the fuck is going on?”

The Mitchell men laughed.

“You should probably ask the hostess,” Corbin said.

Charlie could just imagine who the hostess was. Probably Margaret with a packed house of bridge club and bible study ladies bearing special requests up the old wazoo.

The closer he got to the dining room the more chatter he heard. Men’s voices mixed with ladies’ voice, and above it all was the squeal of a child. Charlotte? No. It couldn’t be true. Why would she be here?

Charlie stopped and faced the men behind him again. “Whose party is this?”

“Once again, the hostess can give you the answers,” Corbin said.

“Fuck you all.” Charlie smiled. They were jerking his chain pretty good. “If I get out there and it’s something bad, you better run.”

But it wasn’t bad. It was a dining room full of familiar, friendly faces, including Morgan, who stood at the hostess podium.

A quick glance around the room proved everyone was staring at him and wearing silly grins. Alice and Kory shared a corner table with Kory’s parents, Ken and Carole. Jim Pierce, the grocer, and his wife, Susan, sat beside the Furhman Farm family. What an odd collection of people.

Again, a child squealed.

Charlie turned in time to see Aunt Phyllis hoisting his baby girl.