How To Choose A Durable Table For Dining?

After my husband, Adam Hargrove, custom-orders the new couch, he's completely obsessed over it. Not only does he insist on sleeping on the couch every night, but he also refuses to let me touch it. I seriously can't take his weird obsession any longer, so I decide to bring up divorce before him at our son's party. Everyone just stares at me in shock. Adam even responds by splashing the wine right at my face. "What the hell are you on about, Lena? I neither cheated on you nor got in contact with any woman out there! Are you seriously divorcing me just because I sleep on the couch every night?" I reply immediately, "That's right!"

Two weeks before the wedding, I took my parents to dinner at my fiance Derek Matthews's family home in Larkhaven, Franklin. The evening was supposed to be the last planning meeting between both sets of parents, where we would finalize the ceremony and the honor-table seating. I hadn't expected Derek's childhood friend, Paige Bennett, to be there too. Mrs. Matthews suggested a little dinner-table game. Everyone would draw a numbered envelope. Whoever drew the highest number could ask one small favor of whoever drew the lowest. I drew the lowest number. Derek drew the highest. Everyone urged him to make his request. Paige smiled as though she were only joking. "Derek, let me choose for you. "At the wedding, my parents should sit at the honor table." I thought Derek would at least say that a game was a game and wedding arrangements were not prizes to be claimed. Instead, he merely frowned at me. "It's only two seats. "Paige's parents have always been close to our family. "I won the draw, and the rules say you owe me one request. "Don't embarrass everyone over this." I set down my fork, picked up my phone, and posted a message in our family-and-friends group chat. "There has been a change to the wedding seating. My parents will no longer be at the honor table." Derek visibly relaxed. Paige smiled at me through shining eyes. "Thank you, Hannah. I knew you would be generous." I didn't look at her. I simply continued typing. "Because my parents will not be attending this wedding. "Neither will I."

During the holidays, my boyfriend, Felix Zimmerman, insists on bringing his female best friend, Cassidy Crowther, home for dinner. Everyone keeps fussing over Cassidy. Even Felix's mother, Helen Danes, takes Cassidy's hand and asks her about her life. Her eyes are already crinkling from how wide her smile has become. But when Helen notices me being ignored by everyone else, she's quick to frown at me. "Sienna, if you have nothing to do, you might as well help out in the kitchen." At the dining table, Felix keeps placing food on Cassidy's plate. When I mutter to Felix to help grab me a piece of crab due to how far the crabs are from me, he goes impatient immediately. Heck, he doesn't even bother glancing at me. "Can't you see that I'm busy? You can go get it yourself!" Left without a choice, I can only rise to my feet. But Felix's dad, Andrew Zimmerman, quickly stops me when he spots me reaching for the plate of crabs. "The act of peeling crabs is very unlady-like, Sienna. That's why you shouldn't have any." I'm pissed, to say the least. So, I dig out my phone and upload a post on my social media feed. "Does anyone want to invite me to their family dinner tonight?" Numerous text messages blast up my phone the next moment. Countless scions from various wealthy and influential families in Hillsbury quickly leave comments on my post. "Ms. Winslow, may I have the honor of inviting you to dinner with me?" "My home works too! My parents keep telling me that they haven't seen you in such a long time!"

Right in the middle of the workday, my coworker, Stanley Graham, suddenly jumps up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Next week is Mr. Todd's birthday. Since your family runs a seafood restaurant, I'll tell you what—I'll chip in 99 bucks to treat the whole department at your place to celebrate!" He starts counting dishes on his fingers. "We need lobster and king crab. The fish has to be a fresh-killed red snapper. Don't skimp on the appetizers, and keep the beer and sodas flowing. Oh, and keep an eye on the shellfish. Mr. Todd has gout. Do a good job. Don't embarrass our department." He nudges me with a smirk. "When Mr. Todd walks away happy, he'll probably throw a massive bonus your way. You'll be laughing all the way to the bank. You make money, you get the credit, and the boss is happy. Dylan, you seriously owe me one." I stare at him, completely baffled. My family owns a small diner. Where on earth are we getting seafood from? The moment I flatly refuse, Stanley rolls his eyes and walks off. That night, a sign-up list pops up in the company group chat. "Mr. Todd's birthday is this Saturday! I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast. Eat as much as you want, and you can bring your family too. Add your name to the list if you're in!" The chat immediately erupts into cheers. In less than ten minutes, over 50 people sign up. "My dad's never even had lobster. Thanks to Stanley, he finally gets to experience something new!" "My kid loves tuna. Save a few extra portions for him!" Stanley promises everyone everything. After dropping a location pin in the chat, he transfers 99 dollars to me. "Dylan, take the cash. Make sure the ingredients are top-notch. Don't rip off your own coworkers." I take a closer look at the location and smile. It is the high-end seafood restaurant right next to my family's diner. The owner is a reformed gangster with tattoos climbing all the way up to his jaw. The last guy who tried to walk out on a bill there still can't get out of bed.

In the third year since my husband, Axel Kramer, starts working as a rideshare driver, we finally manage to buy a home of our own. On the day we move in, he suddenly says to me, "Some friends want to come over for dinner tonight. I already said yes." I'm someone who values boundaries and doesn't like outsiders coming into my home. Even when we host relatives, we take them out to restaurants. "Can't we just go to a restaurant?" I ask. He looks helpless as he replies, "I already suggested that, but Lindsay said it would be more fun if we hang out at home. She said we should liven it up in our new home. And since everyone knows I'm a good cook, she wants to try my cooking too." One corner of my eye twitches with displeasure. Lindsay Brun is the female driver he's mentioned the most over these three years. She's also the only woman in their rideshare drivers' group chat.

I set up a company cafeteria for employees with an abundant meal daily worth 150 dollars per person. Meals are prepared by a world-renowned master chef. Every day, I only ask my employees to contribute a token of one dollar. Instead of gratitude, all I get is their envy of the neighboring company. "I wish we had that. Their healthy lunches cost them nothing, and the company covers everything." "Yeah. Free salads always seem to taste the best." Before long, this chatter spreads through the office, and the new hires carry it into the company's group chat. "Mr. Shaw, can we switch things up? All this rich, heavy food is just too much for us!" A few of the senior employees quickly jump in. "Yes, Mr. Shaw! We're not asking for anything extravagant. We only want something like the healthy lunches the other company gives out for free!" Perfect. They ignore my lavish 150-dollar meals that cost them almost nothing, yet they pine over the neighboring company's modest lunches. I scroll through the chat, feeling nothing but sharp irony. I immediately send a company-wide email. "Attention, everyone! By popular demand, and so you can all experience a truly free lunch, the cafeteria's daily meal is reduced from abundant to simple starting today. "Snacks and fruit options are discontinued and replaced with the same healthy lunch set offered by the neighboring company. The company will cover the full cost. Enjoy your meal!"