With a Little Help Read Free

disagreements.”
    â€œNot to mention ensuring you’re aware of any potential…um…obstacles.”
    â€œNate can have a harem for all I care. This is purely professional.”
    â€œPity.” Cherie sounded genuinely disappointed.
    â€œHonestly, Ma, haven’t you given up matchmaking by now?”
    Her mother’s shoulders lifted. “I didn’t make you go home with him.”
    â€œI didn’t go home with him. He gave me a ride, that’s all.”
    â€œIn that case, why so defensive?”
    Emma shot her mother a chilly glare. “Telling Dad that if I can’t be a doctor I can at least marry one might have something to do with it.”
    Her brother had shared the information withEmma, saying he wanted her to be forewarned. Not that the news came as a surprise.
    Her mother colored slightly, although media experience kept her body language in check. “Where on earth did you get that idea?”
    â€œThen you don’t deny saying it?”
    â€œI can’t deny that I’d be pleased to have you carry on the family tradition in some way.”
    Emma splayed her hands. “Can’t you stop being media medico for ten seconds and give me a straight answer? If you’re planning on fixing me up with Nate Hale, I’m entitled to know.”
    â€œEmma, what’s gotten into you? He’s having a party. You’re a caterer. Why should you suspect me of a hidden agenda?”
    â€œBecause I know you. And obviously my choice of career bothers you as much as it ever did.”
    â€œNonsense. I’m proud of both my children.”
    The same nonanswer Emma had been given when she’d told her parents she’d decided to go to culinary school rather than pursue a career in medicine. A few stints helping out in their practice and at a local nursing home had convinced her she’d rather feed people than minister to their ailments. Cherie had arranged the internship at the nursing home, never suspecting Emma would find her vocation in the facility’s kitchen rather than with the residents.
    â€œDidn’t you ever want to do anything other than become a doctor?” Emma asked now.
    Tucking her phone into her bag, Cherie paused. “How is this relevant?”
    Emma already knew the answer. Cherie’s father, Emma’s grandfather, had helped pioneer bone marrow transplantation. Cherie had grown up hero-worshipping him and took it for granted that she’d follow him into medicine. Not for the first time Emma wondered if her mother had ever questioned her choice. Many years ago, Cherie had painted exquisite miniature landscapes. Perhaps…
    Emma killed the thought. No point going there. If life was this hard for her as the family misfit, how much tougher would it have been for her mother, hardwired for conformity since birth? Cherie never stepped on the grass if a sign warned against it, whereas Emma was likely to take off her shoes and run barefoot across it out of sheer devilment. Those genes had to come from Emma’s paternal grandmother Jessie Jarrett, a wonderful cook who’d made her mark independently of her oncologist husband. Gramma Jessie was still one of Emma’s favorite people.
    â€œDon’t worry, Ma. I’ll talk to Nate and we’ll work something out.”
    Her mother looked relieved as she came around the desk and dropped a light kiss on Emma’s forehead. “You won’t regret your decision.”
    She already regretted it, Emma thought as she saw her mother out. Although she hadn’t actuallyagreed to cater the party, only discuss it. Would she have been so uptight about the meeting if the client wasn’t Nate? Probably not. And for that, she had no one to blame but herself.
    In the kitchen, her assistant Sophie had finished packing the cold canapés and desserts into insulated containers for their client’s cocktail party that evening. Emma double-checked the list,