Page 6 of Marry Me

“Who are these people in my house?” her father bellowed, joining them inside. His hair was mostly gray now and his stomach a little more pronounced, but he still had that same playful gleam in his eye. Such a softy. “How did they get in my house? Who are they?” he asked their mother sincerely. He placed a hand over his chest as if startled. “Oh. It’s just you two.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Betsy said. “Good day at the store?”

Her father shrugged. “Customer traffic could have been better, but we did okay.” Her parents had always been entrepreneurs. In Allison’s lifetime, they’d cycled through half a dozen businesses, some more outlandish than others, but the Nutcase had been the longest lasting, having stayed open for close to a decade now. Nestled in a pretty popular strip mall, they’d established a good batch of regular morning customers, who picked up breakfast and a drip coffee to go. Her parents’ crown jewel was their grab-and-take oatmeal bar, the Dash Bar, which they sold fresh in the store and packaged in boxes of six. Pop the bar in the oven, and you had fresh, warm oatmeal in bar form, perfect for eating in the car or in the midst of work. No spoon required. They baked them fresh in-store but had started moving into licensing them for retail, her father’s lifelong dream. They were already in a couple of local mom-and-pop grocery stores and looking desperately to grow to the big-box chains. The Nutcase would be a thing of the past once, and if, the bars took off at the licensing level the way her parents were hoping. They were ready to put everything they had behind the product, believing in it that much.

“How’s working with that new manufacturer on the Dash Bar?” Betsy asked, turning around her chair. “Able to cut your margins yet?”

“Not yet.” Her mother’s face brightened. “They’ve been a dream, though, in every other sense. So much better than the last manufacturer, who cut corners on the recipe. The bars now taste almost like we make them fresh in the shop.”

“That’s fantastic.” Allison smiled, rooting her parents on. She actually really enjoyed the bars and ate them several times a week on her way to school. “I’m glad you got it all sorted out.”

“We’re in the big time now, kids,” her dad said with a proud smile.His business was everything, and he stayed up many nights, trying to figure out how to make it all come together. Her parents had always lived paycheck to paycheck and were looking to capitalize on this new wave to solve their financial woes. “The Dash Bar is on its way.” He turned to Allison. “Dalton, or should I say your future father-in-law, pulled me aside the night of the engagement to set up a formal meeting. Not just talk anymore. It’s serious.”

“Get out,” Betsy said. “You’re going to be in the BeLeaf stores? That would be insane. There are a million of them in Texas alone.”

Her mother smiled demurely. “Well, we don’t know for sure, but Dalton seemed to think that with you kids getting married, the families should have a conversation.” Her parents, sometimes to her embarrassment, had been talking up the Dash Bars to the Carmichaels since the moment they’d met. Ally had asked them to put the brakes on, and they’d been nice enough to respect her wishes. But it seemed their seed planting might have taken root. “Ally, if this deal goes through, you’ll be the hero.” Her mom ruffled her hair the way she used to when Ally was five.

“I didn’t do anything but hit it off with Brent. The business stuff is all you guys.”

“How’s the wedding planning going?” her father asked, referencing the martini glasses with a grin.

Betsy lifted hers. “Well, we’ve accomplished two things. Number one, martinis. Number two, we’ve decided on a planner. Once Soiree is on board, I have a feeling all the doors will fall open, and we’ll have access to all the best venues and vendors.” Betsy sat back. “I’m jealous just thinking about it.”

“Your life is perfect,” Ally said. “Your husband is. Even your lawn looks like a commercial.”

Betsy didn’t hesitate. “It is perfect. But Dallas society didn’t fawn over an invitation to my wedding the way they will yours. That’s a pretty big coup, little sister. Even I can admit that, as competitive as I am.”

Allison shrugged it off. That part didn’t matter to her, but she was happy it brought joy to her family, and if it helped her parents ease their business struggles, well, that was a pleasant bonus.

“You guys want to stay for dinner? I can whip up some chicken tenders and cream gravy,” her father offered, always the handy cook.

“I’m on Keto,” Betsy said, standing. Her perfect figure didn’t need it. “The martini was a splurge.”

“Oh, I’ll stay,” Allison said with a smile. “Brent is working late, and I need Dad’s chicken to survive this week.”

“That’s my girl,” her mom said. “Let me change, and we can set the table together.”

Allison relaxed, enjoying time at the house where everything always felt simple and easy. With Brent, as much as she adored him, there was always an element of keeping up, making sure she was up on all the latest news or gossip. It was pressure she put on herself unnecessarily, because he didn’t care, but it was there all the same. Tonight, she would simply enjoy herself in her childhood home with her cute, creative parents and some comfort food.

She could tackle the wedding world tomorrow.

It wasn’t going anywhere.

Chapter Two

Megan stared at her laptop and blinked at the ridiculous explanation from their supply company as to why they’d been short four tables at the Gallagher wedding the weekend prior. Their driver had read the order wrong. Why had no one higher up double-checked? Sure, in the moment, she’d been able to pull a rabbit out of a hat and have a backup vendor bring over four closely matching counterparts, but it never should have been an obstacle on her client’s big day to begin with.

She typed back a very curt response, thanking them for their effort but expressing her disappointment in the service they’d received. No need to be petty, though she downgraded their status from her go-to supply company to backup and would alert her staff to do the same for their own clients.

“Megan, call for you on four,” Demi said through the phone’s intercom.

“Who’s calling?” Megan asked, really not wanting to be pulled from her email if it wasn’t dire.

“Allison Hale.”

“Can you take her information, or hand her off to Kelsey.”

There was a pause. “Allison Hale, remember? Her fiancé is Brent Carmichael.”

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