Debbie Macomber: Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas

“We all, at one time or another, say things we later regret,” LaVonne said, smiling down on Phillip. She raised her eyes to K.O. “Isn’t that right, Katherine?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“And some of us,” she went on, looking at Wynn, “make hasty judgments.”

He hesitated. “Yes. However in this case—”

“That’s why,” LaVonne said, interrupting him, “I took the liberty of making a dinner reservation for the two of you. Tonight—at seven-thirty. An hour from now.”

“A dinner reservation,” K.O. repeated. Much as she liked and respected her neighbor, there was a limit to what she was willing to do.

“It’s out of the question,” Wynn insisted.

“I appreciate what you’re doing, but…” K.O. turned to Wynn for assistance.

“I do, as well,” he chimed in. “It’s a lovely gesture on your part. Unfortunately, I have other plans for this evening.”

“So do I.” All right, K.O.’s plans included eating in front of the television and watching Jeopardy, and while those activities might not be anything out of the ordinary, they did happen to be her plans.

“Oh, dear.” LaVonne exhaled loudly. “Chef Jerome Ray will be so disappointed not to meet my friends.”

If Wynn didn’t recognize the name, K.O. certainly did. “You know Chef Jerome Ray?”

“Of Chez Jerome?” Wynn inserted.

“Oh, yes. I did his taxes for years and years. What most people don’t realize is that Jerome is no flash in the pan, if you’ll excuse the pun. In fact, it took him twenty years to become an overnight success.”

The Seattle chef had his own cooking show on the Food Network, which had become an immediate hit. His techniques with fresh seafood had taken the country by storm. The last K.O. had heard, it took months to get a reservation at Chez Jerome.

“I talked to Jerome this afternoon and he said that as a personal favor to me, he would personally see to your dinner.”

“Ah…” K.O. looked at Wynn and weighed her options.

“Dinner’s already paid for,” LaVonne said in an encouraging voice, “and it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

A nuked frozen entrée and Jeopardy, versus one dinner with a slightly contentious man in a restaurant that would make her the envy of her friends. “I might be able to rearrange my plans,” K.O. said after clearing her throat. Normally she was a woman of conviction. But in these circumstances, for a fabulous free dinner, she was willing to compromise.

“I think I can do the same,” Wynn muttered.

LaVonne smiled brightly and clapped her hands. “Excellent. I was hoping you’d say that.”

“With certain stipulations,” Wynn added.

“Yes,” K.O. said. “There would need to be stipulations.”

Wynn scowled at her. “We will not discuss my book or my child-rearing philosophies.”

“All right,” she agreed. That sounded fair. “And we’ll…we’ll—” She couldn’t think of any restriction of her own, so she said, “We refuse to overeat.” At Wynn’s frown, she explained, “I’m sort of watching my weight.”

He nodded as though he understood, which she was sure he didn’t. What man really did?

“All I care about is that the two of you have a marvelous dinner, but I know you will.” LaVonne smiled at them both. “The raisins have already assured me of that.” She studied her watch, gently dislodged Phillip and stood. “You’ll need to leave right away. The reservation’s under my name,” she said and ushered them out the door.

Before she could protest or comment, K.O. found herself standing in the hallway with Wynn Jeffries, her dinner date.

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