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Chapter 17

Dallas

Dallas waited in the parlor with Charles, smoking a cigar and enjoying a brandy, thinking of Megan. How dare she defy him… and in front of his friend? She was his wife, wasn't she? That meant that she had to do as he asked. And cook dinner? He scoffed. The lady of the house didn't cook. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford a chef. But now, his wife felt the need to give the chef the night off to cook dinner herself. He took a sip of his brandy, wondering if he would ever survive his wife.

"What's on your mind?" Charles asked, sitting in an armchair by the fire across from him.

Dallas shook his head, swirling the caramel-colored liquid in his glass.

"So, she wants to cook dinner one night?" Charles shrugged. "I'd let her. Hell, if I had a wife, I'd be delighted if she wanted to cook occasionally."

Dallas glanced over at him. "How so?"

Charles looked into the fire. "It would tell me that she was the kind of woman who didn't mind getting her hands dirty. That she was down to earth." He scoffed. "Most of the women I know wouldn't dream of it."

"See what I mean?" Dallas stood and walked over to the fire, leaning onto the mantel above the fireplace.

Charles's eyebrows pulled together in concern. "I'm not following."

Dallas sighed. "Women of substance have cooks or chefs, they do as their husbands say, and they don't clean the house after a party."

Charles chuckled. "Well, I'd be thankful that she isn't afraid to push up her sleeves and pitch in. Besides, what harm would it do?" He raised and lowered his shoulders. "Let her…." Then he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "But don't let her know that you're letting her."

"Why should I let her?" Dallas took the last swig of his drink and set the glass down on the mantel.

Charles rose from his seat and stood in front of the fire, holding his glass. "She's a woman who is not used to just attending parties and seeing to the staff. She probably just wants to feel useful. Making dinner and cleaning is familiar to her. Maybe make a compromise with her. Let her cook when you two are here alone, but for parties or when you have company, then have the chef cook. You can talk to her and see what she thinks. If she agrees to it, it'll save a lot of arguments." Charles chuckled. "Besides, it'll give Jacques the night off occasionally, too."

Dallas smiled. "Jacques doesn't like ‘days off.'"

Charles shrugged. "He'll get used to it."

"Charles, I'm sorry she behaved this way while you were here." Dallas couldn't believe she had embarrassed him like this.

Charles laughed. "Don't be! I'm like family, remember? As far as I'm concerned, she can cook dinner and clean the house all she wants while I'm here. It wouldn't bother me a bit or make me think any less of her or you. Personally, I think it'd be good to have a wife who isn't afraid of a little hard work. That's the kind of woman I want someday."

Dallas let out a deep breath. "Thanks, Charles. I appreciate that."

"Well, something smells wonderful." Charles smiled, playfully nudging his shoulder with his. "I wonder if dinner's getting close."

"I'll go check." Dallas was about to walk into the kitchen when Mrs. Daly appeared in the parlor doorway, smiling broadly.

"Dinner is served," Mrs. Daly announced and then disappeared around the corner, piquing Dallas's interest.

"I wonder what that was all about?" Dallas had a feeling that she and his defiant wife were up to something. What? He had no idea.

Charles laughed. "Well, I think we'd better go find out."

"Yes, I think we should." Dallas chuckled as they headed toward the dining room.

When they walked in, the candles on the table and along the buffet against the wall were lit, sending sparkles throughout the room, creating a romantic atmosphere. Megan had also lit the oil lamp that was on the far wall and had turned it down low, creating enough light to eat by. The room was nothing short of magical.

Megan stood in front of the door leading to the kitchen. She wore a clean, blue dress and her hair was combed into place, brought up off her shoulders into loose curls, taking Dallas's breath away.

"Everything looks great… and you look lovely." Dallas took her hands in his. "Could you ever forgive me?"

Megan nodded. "Yes, but let's talk about it later. Right now, let's just enjoy our meal together."

"Everything looks wonderful," Charles replied, a smile lighting his lips.

"Thank ye, but I didn't do it alone. Mrs. Daly helped," she beamed, her eyes sparkling in the firelight.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Dallas asked, her excitement catchy.

She rocked up on her toes, clearly excited. "Yes, as a matter of fact I did." She was about to go into the kitchen, but Mrs. Daly was on the other side of the door, smiling.

"No, madame," she said, her eyes kind. "You did more than enough. Jacques has agreed to help me serve tonight."

Megan laughed, her eyes wide. "Ye jest!"

"No, ma'am." Mrs. Daly beamed. "He was more than glad to help."

"Thank ye," Megan beamed and then walked back to the dining room. "It's on the way."

"Well, then, shall we?" Dallas held Megan's chair for her, finding himself caught up in her excitement and the romanticism. He pushed her chair in as she sat.

Dallas took his seat at the head of the table, and Charles sat at his right, across from Megan. "Well, Charles suggested that maybe you could give Jacques a night off occasionally so you can cook. Would that be okay with you?"

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Megan beamed, clasping her hands. "Mrs. Daly and I had so much fun chatting and talking while we were cooking. It's been a while since—"

"We can talk about it later," Dallas replied. But the way her voice trailed off, Dallas knew that she was about to say that it had been a while since she had made dinner in the kitchen with another woman, probably her mother. "So, what did you ladies plan for dinner?"

"Wait just a moment and ye'll find out." Megan smiled.

Right on cue, Mrs. Daly walked into the room, carrying a bowl with a ladle in it. "Here you go!"

It smelled so delicious that Dallas's stomach rumbled, not realizing he was hungry until that moment. Jacques followed behind Mrs. Daly, carrying a wooden cutting board with a loaf of round bread.

"Irish Stew and Irish Soda Bread," Megan announced, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, it smells delicious," Charles replied. "It's been a while since I've had authentic Irish Stew."

Mrs. Daly began ladling out the stew, pouring a hefty scoop into each bowl. "Well, you'd better eat up. Mrs. King made plenty." Mrs. Daly finished and walked discreetly back into the kitchen.

Dallas's heart filled with pride. "Let's say the blessing, shall we?" Everyone bowed their heads, and he said a blessing over the meal, thanking God for the good food, the good company, and all the gifts He had given them. And for the first time in a very long time, he could see all of the blessings in his life… and everything he had to be thankful for. Before that moment, Dallas hadn't realized just how much of an impact his father had had on him and his life. In a way, Dallas was who he was because of him. He realized how much he had been carrying around with him. It was time he forgave his father and let the past go.

"Are you okay?" Megan asked, laying her spoon down beside the bowl, her eyebrows pulling together in concern. "You don't like it?"

Dallas smiled as he shook his head. "No, just the opposite. I was just thinking of how lucky I am, how much I have to be thankful for."

"We all do," Megan agreed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

And Dallas knew it was true. It was high time he stopped blaming his father for his own shortcomings and go on with his life the best way he could. But sometimes, it was easier said than done.

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