in the sage butter she loved.
“In terms of Thanksgiving in Wintersage, it’s already too late. The two best chefs in town aren’t taking any more orders, so finding someone to prepare a good meal won’t be easy.”
A snort came from her father’s direction. “Too bad I didn’t manage to finagle an invitation from Fred King for Thanksgiving dinner.” He turned to Sandra. “Did I mention Ivy prepared a five-course meal while we were there? It was superb.”
Sandra pressed her lips together. She loved her Dad, but today he was bouncing on her last nerve like a kid on a trampoline.
Ever since she’d returned home from college and refused to come to work at Woolcott Industries, he’d constantly compared her to the Kings’ daughter. The digs had become even more frequent since Ivy had married an executive from her father’s company.
Ivy was perfection in the daughter department, while Sandra had descended from Daddy’s girl to a big disappointment in her father’s eyes. Nothing she did pleased him. All they seemed to do was butt heads.
“Ivy’s dinner tasted like it came out of a Michelin starred restaurant. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven with every mouthful,” Stuart continued. “And that pie!”
Sandra bit the inside of her lip, hoping her mother would shut him down again.
Instead, Nancy licked her lips. “Which one? The salted caramel chocolate pecan pie or maple bourbon sweet potato pie? Goodness, they both practically melted in your mouth, didn’t they?”
“The entire meal did. And to think Ivy made everything from scratch, after putting in a full day helping run their family business.” Stuart leveled his gaze at Sandra.
“I run a business, too, Dad,” Sandra countered, although she knew it wouldn’t matter. “I love what I do, and I’m very good at it.”
He shook his head. “This isn’t about loving what you do, it’s about living up to your potential. When you were in school, I’d brag on you to Fred King every time you brought home your grades. He’d be so envious. Now he’s the one boasting about how his daughter’s efforts have resulted in record profits for their business. Not to mention she’s also a wife and mother.” He exhaled. “Guess who’s the jealous father now.”
Sandra swallowed the lump rising in her throat. She could show him statements proving Swoon Couture had also raked in sizable profits. She could also reveal, depending on the outcome of next week’s election, that she was in the running to design the inaugural ball gown for the wife of Massachusetts’s next governor-elect.
But she didn’t.
Sandra already knew he wouldn’t be impressed or proud.
Besides, she’d had enough of family for today. At this point, her best course of action was to get rid of them.
Now.
“Well, I know you two were eager to be going,” she said, mentally shoving them toward her front door. “I’ll take care of the dress alterations.”
Her parents didn’t budge. They were apparently still too overwhelmed by Ivy’s cooking to take the hint.
“She doesn’t even bother with recipes. Just uses a pinch of this and a little of that,” Nancy said.
“That girl’s amazing,” Stuart exclaimed. “The Kings definitely don’t have to be concerned about their holiday dinner, because their daughter can do it all.”
Sandra’s fingers dug into the garment bag still in her arms. She kept her lips pressed together in a firm line as her father smacked his lips loudly.
“Just thinking about what Ivy could do with a turkey, stuffing and all the trimmings sets my mouth to watering,” he said.
“Actually, she mentioned jerk turkey was on the menu for Thanksgiving,” Nancy added.
Sandra stifled a grunt, along with an overwhelming wave of jealously, which was ridiculous. So what if the Kings’ daughter was a great cook, and Sandra wasn’t?
It had nothing to do with her. She had nothing to prove.
Then why did she feel that it had everything to do with her, and she had everything to prove?
Stuart raised a questioning brow at his wife. “I could try to wrangle us an invitation to the Kings’ Thanksgiving table. It would be terribly pushy, but worth it.”
Nancy shook her head. “We can’t do that. What about the rest of our family? I’ll get to work ordering our holiday dinner as soon as I get home. It won’t be Ivy’s jerk turkey, but...”
Just when Sandra thought the sensible adult in her had reined in her jealousy, the green-eyed monster inside her broke rank.
“I’ll cook,” she blurted out.
“What did you say, sweetheart?” her mother asked.
The words continued to bubble out of her mouth of their own accord. “We can have Thanksgiving at my house this year,” she said. “I’ll do the cooking.”
Two pairs of surprised eyes swung toward her. Sandra was sure her own eyes reflected surprise, as well.
“You’re kidding, right?” Her father howled with laughter.
When the laughing subsided, he brushed at the tear rolling down his cheek and rested his arm on her shoulder. “Thanks, anyway, but none of us wants to spend the holiday doubled over in the bathroom, or even worse, getting a visit from the fire department.”
He burst into another laughing fit, while a giggle her mother had apparently been holding back escaped.
Sandra tried not to feel insulted. Admittedly, she did have a track record in the kitchen that indeed made her offer laughable.
If she was completely honest with herself, she wasn’t a cook. She didn’t even own a pot or pan. Breakfast was usually coffee and a granola bar. Lunch consisted of a gourmet cupcake from the bakery and dinner was either a hastily eaten deli sandwich or salad in her boutique’s studio.
“Don’t pay us any mind,” her mother said, with a wave of her hand. “It’s just, you and the kitchen...”
“Are a match made in hell,” her father finished.
Sandra looked on as her parents collapsed into yet another bout of laughter. Increasingly irksome laughter that would have made a less tolerant daughter boot them the heck out of her house.
Instead, Sandra cleared her throat. She’d show her father she was no joke and that there was a lot in her for him to take pride in—starting with Thanksgiving dinner.
“I’ve got our holiday meal covered,” she said firmly, “including a delicious jerking turkey.”
“That’s jerk turkey,” her mother corrected.
“Regardless, I’ll expect you two, along with our entire family, here on Thanksgiving Day, ready to eat.”
