Month of Sundays by Yolanda Wallace

food, and the three of us can’t possibly eat it all. Besides, my parents would love to meet you. They practically twisted my arm until I promised I’d ask you to come over for dinner sometime. I can already picture you turning my dad into a blushing schoolboy and my mom into a gushing fan. What do you say?”
    “When do we eat?” She drew a deep, shaky breath as she tried to regain her composure. “Sorry for the meltdown.”
    “What did you tell me a couple of days ago? Don’t apologize for being human. I’m not one of your critics. You don’t have to be perfect to impress me. In fact, I think I prefer you the way you are right now. With gravy on your sleeve, flour on your forehead, and tearstains on your cheeks. You’re not just beautiful on the outside, Griffin. You’re beautiful inside, too. Today has been magical in so many ways. Thank you for sharing it with me. I’ll never forget it. But I do have one question.”
    “What?”
    Rachel bit her lip. “What are your feelings about tuna casserole?”
    Griffin laughed. “I think it’s the unsung hero of the food world.”
    Rachel’s shoulders sagged in apparent relief. “In that case, my mother’s going to love you.”
    Rachel squeezed her arm to make sure she was okay, then returned to her station. As they worked throughout the afternoon, Griffin felt their developing bond grow stronger. When she began filming Cream of the Crop , she would be contractually obligated not to tell anyone what she was up to during the three weeks she was away. Keeping the secret might earn her a chance to compete for the respect she craved, but it would put her connection with Rachel to the test. She hoped their bond would hold up under the strain.

Chapter Seven
     
    Rachel felt like she was about to throw up. Dinner with her parents had gone better than she had hoped, despite the nosy neighbors who caught wind of Griffin’s presence and kept dropping by to gawk at the celebrity in their midst. Taking the extra attention in stride, Griffin had regaled the hordes with stories of her adventures both in and out of the kitchen. By the end of the night, Rachel’s parents were the most popular couple on the block and they had given Griffin two enthusiastic thumbs up.
    Now it was Rachel’s turn to run the gauntlet. Would Griffin’s friends welcome her with open arms or give her the cold shoulder?
    She wasn’t sure what time to make her appearance. The invitation said the party would start at ten, but the real festivities wouldn’t begin until midnight. She decided on eleven. Plenty of time to get her bearings and get comfortable before the countdown began.
    She loved New Year’s Eve. Any holiday that came with the promise of a fresh start was all right by her. She and Isabel used to make an annual pilgrimage to Times Square on December 31, showing up early no matter what the weather to stake out a good spot to set up camp and watch the ball drop. But those days were over. Now it was time to establish a new tradition.
    Griffin had said the party would be low-key, but Rachel didn’t want to show up looking too casual. She had dressed up her jeans and white Oxford shirt with a velvet blazer. The jacket looked black, but its official color was midnight blue, which, considering the occasion, seemed fitting. She had owned the jacket for years but had worn it only a handful of times. She usually felt like a bit of a dandy when she put it on, but tonight it felt right. Tonight, for the first time in a long time, she felt comfortable in her own skin.
    She hadn’t checked the scales to see how much weight she had lost because the number didn’t matter. Her clothes fit better and she had more energy. When she looked in the mirror, she liked the person she saw staring back at her. That was what mattered.
    Everyone at work had commented on the change in her demeanor. She had a bounce in her step. Her swagger was back. She would need it. Jane and Colleen had other plans for New Year’s