Page 3 of Miles & Mistletoe

Chapter Two

Stacia

“We really appreciate you volunteering tonight, Stacia.”

I smiled up at Ron, the homeless shelter’s director. “It’s my pleasure, honestly. Since I’m working, I’d be stuck in my hotel room watching Christmas movie reruns,” I stated and shrugged. That wasn’t the entire truth. Our company always catered some type of dinner for its flight attendants that were traveling to big cities on holidays for work. Back at the hotel there were a number of other flight attendants that had chosen to stay back and hang out with one another. I chose to volunteer. It was one of my traditions.

“Where do you want me?” I asked Ron as I looked around at the huge dining space that was only full with a handful of volunteers. There was about thirty minutes until they opened the doors for the evening.

“We could use you in the serving line for the first hour, and then helping to collect any discarded plates and cleaning up the closer we get to the end of the night.”

Rubbing my hands together, I nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll grab one of the aprons I saw in the back.”

Ron nodded and then checked his watch. His eyes enlarged for a second. “I have to go. We have some big hot shot who’ll be working with us tonight. Probably for publicity of his company or whatever, but he’s been a real pill.”

I gave him a small smile. “I can relate. Don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, I’ll find my way to the kitchen for that apron.”

“Thanks.”

As I watched Ron scurry off, I didn’t think much of it. I headed toward the swinging double doors into the kitchen. I quickly found one of the festive holiday aprons the homeless shelter offered its volunteers and donned it. Over the next few minutes there was a flurry of action as workers and volunteers aided in setting up the cafeteria-style assembly line that was to cater to thousands of people over the next few hours.

“Oops!” I yelped as I pushed through the kitchen doors with my arms full of styrofoam plates and bowls. “I’m so—” I began apologizing to the person I’d accidentally knocked into, only to pause when I made eye contact with Ian Zerlinger’s dark brown gaze. “Mr. Zerlinger,” I gasped out, shocked.

“Stacia.”

An odd sensation moved down my spine.

“Ian, we need to get pictures of you over by the food and then by the patrons as they’re eating.”

My eyes went to the woman that just approached Ian. It was the same woman who was on the flight earlier. Jamie. I think that was her name.

Ian broke off from staring at me to turn to his right, looking at the woman. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. He did give me one last look before moving past me to enter the kitchen.

I briefly glanced over my shoulder and turned back to see Ron. His eyebrows were raised.

“Ian Zerlinger is your big wig, huh?”

“Yup.” He nodded.

“Good luck.” I gave a humorless chuckle and proceeded to complete the task I’d set out to do. I put out the plates and bowls before moving farther down the assembly line and grabbing one of the large, metal spoons to scoop up the mashed potatoes and gravy that were in front of me.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” I repeated for the umpteenth time to a little brown-eyed girl with the cutest pigtail afro puffs in her hair. “Would you like some mashed potatoes, sweetie?”

Her eyes widened and she smiled. My heart melted a little when I noticed her two front missing teeth.

I placed a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto her plate. “How about some gravy?”

“Ew!” she immediately responded, shaking her head and twisting her face up in disgust.

“Bianca, just say no thank you. I’m sorry about that. She doesn’t like gravy.”

I lifted my gaze from the little girl to the woman behind her and smiled. “I can’t blame her. I’m not a big fan of gravy myself.” I winked at Bianca.

“We’re still practicing minding her manners,” the woman stated, apologetically.

“We’ll give her a break for the holiday. Would you like some mashed potatoes, ma’am?”

The woman’s eyebrows raised, and for a split second I thought I’d done something wrong.

---