Page 6 of Christmas Secrets

Toni took a drink of her tea, her eyes twinkling. “Then never fess up. Just enjoy it and rest on yer accolades.”

Dottie snorted. “The only problem with that is that I can’t keep paying someone to make me look good all the time. And Ben will be expecting me to suddenly be a gourmet chef.”

“Not necessarily. We all have our fav dishes we like to prepare and most of us average cooks are better at some dishes than others. These dishes ye paid fer could be yer better efforts, but they don’t always turn out the same every time.”

Dottie’s eyes narrowed. “Ye think I could get away with it and just go back to normal after Christmas?”

“Well,” Toni hedged. “Ye might have to cough up some big bucks fer a better pan now and then, but maybe ye could request yer chef friend to downplay it a bit fer a couple of times. Then ease back into what’s normal but just do those dishes better. Cripes, I’ll even volunteer to make some fer ye if ye need me to,” she offered.

“But what if Ben finds out?”

Toni shrugged. “I’d say he’ll be flaming mad, but it’s yer arse. Either way, ye have done it now so ye are going to have to live with it or fess up and get it over with.”

Dottie glared. “I thought ye were going to help but all ye have done is make me feel worse.”

“Just pointing out the facts, Dottie,” she replied, then her eyes softened. “I can offer ye soft pillows and an ice pack if worst comes to worst.”

Dottie rolled her eyes. “Gee...thanks.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Toni replied cheerfully. “Like I said, I’ll help ye with some dishes if need be. It wouldn’t be the first time we got into a skirmish together.” She winked at Dottie.

“I remember,” Dottie retorted. “The only problem was, I got grounded fer two months fer going to that party and having a hangover. Ye didn’t have any consequences at all.”

“That’s because my parents didn’t care what I did,” Toni replied, her eyes suddenly shadowed.

Dottie felt uncomfortable knowing Toni’s parents were more about throwing money at their daughter than spending time with her.

Toni placed her hand over Dottie’s. “At least I had, and still have, a good friend who cares about me, even though I got her into trouble. And ye have a good man who cares about ye, even if he resorts to warming yer bottom over this. But the decision is yers. I have lots of secrets. Some I might even admit to my parents if they cared enough to ask. I’m certainly not volunteering.”

Dottie’s eyes narrowed. “Ye never know, Toni. They might care more than ye think if they knew some of the things ye have been up to.”

Toni shrugged again. “Maybe. More likely maybe not. At any rate, it’s too late to worry about it now. I’m grown, independent, and don’t have to answer to anyone. And I like it that way.”

There was a wistful note in Toni’s voice that made Dottie wonder though. When her cell phone rang again, she looked at the display. Ben’s face smiled through his number appearing on her phone. “Speak of the devil,” she remarked, picking it up.

Toni laughed. “Fess up and get it over with.”

Dottie scowled at her.

***

Angus stared at thetwo aluminum pans sitting on the kitchen cabinet. “Ye say it’s lasagna?” he asked, glancing over at his wife.

Poppy nodded, glancing sideways at the others. “That’s what she told me.”

Ainsley laughed derisively at Angus. “How bad can it be then? I know ye have all said Dottie can’t cook, but I’ve never actually tried anything she’s cooked. But can it really be that bad?” She folded her arms across her red sweater and tapped one stocking foot on the tile flooring of the huge kitchen at Neamh. Her long blondish locks swirled in a lovely display down her slender figure and below her shoulder blades.

Angus glared at Darro’s sister who was home from Boston for the Christmas holidays. “Ye havna been here, lassie, so ye havna had to worry about it. But I’ve had more meals than I care to shake a stick at, the Habanero Roast Lamb bein’ one of the worst. That dish near burned my tonsils out of my neck. If I didna know better, sometimes I’d swear she deliberately sabotages the dish. Those angelic blue eyes have a certain mischief in them now and then when it comes to food.”

Pauley stared at all of them. “Ye think Dottie cooks badly on purpose? To what end, may I ask?” She brushed her long auburn hair back away from her face and flashed her gaze toward the suspicious pans sitting on the cabinet as yet untouched.

“That’s a good question, Pauley,” Poppy replied, scowling at her husband. “Why would she do that?”

Angus lifted one eyebrow towards the ceiling. “Who can understand the vagaries of the female mind?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

Pauley’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye do realize ye are outnumbered, right?”

“Not completely,” Jamie volunteered, grinning at Pauley. “But since it’s Angus’s suspicions and not mine, I’m staying out of it.”

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