Page 1 of Training Maisy

Chapter 1

Maisy couldn’t believe she was doing it. At long last, she was buying a place of her own.

With a small, nervous smile at Jesse, her realtor, she signed the final agreement that would make her the new owner of a three-bedroom, detached house and the soul-crushing mortgage that came with it. Don’t think about that, Maisy chided herself while collecting the key Jesse was handing to her.

“Um, anything else?” Maisy asked with a smile she hoped didn’t betray how nervous and scared she was.

“Nothing really. That’s the major contract right there. Just a few other things to do, and then you’re through. But, as of now, you’re the new official owner of this house. How about we take one more look around?”

As Maisy walked around the house, she had to admit it looked great. Some of its features looked even better in person than in the pictures Jesse had sent. She still couldn’t help questioning her somewhat sudden decision, though. She wasn’t an impulsive person.

In her head, she recalled a pep talk from her best friend, Brittany.

“Hey, just because you wasted almost three years with that asshole doesn’t mean you have to pay for it with the rest of your life. Get up, go out, and discover the Maisy I used to know before Eric came into your life,” Brittany said in her no-nonsense voice.

“You mean the one who dyed her hair green on a whim,” Maisy asked with a somewhat-self-deprecating chuckle.

“Yes, honey, that one. I miss that Maisy,” Brittany replied with a sort-of sad and nostalgic look crossing her face. On a brighter note, she added, “At least that Maisy made me laugh for almost one week with all the different hats you wore to cover your hair up.” Even Maisy laughed when she remembered all the hats, ball caps, and hoods which became her wardrobe in the time it took her hair to return to its light caramel color.

Normally, she would have smiled at that memory, but thinking about Eric, her ex-boyfriend, made Maisy extremely depressed. Even now, months after their nasty breakup, Maisy still asked herself what had gone wrong. They’d first met at the restaurant where she worked as the pastry chef. One of the waiters had informed her a customer was requesting to see her. Afraid the customer had somehow found fault with the food, although doubting that much, she’d made her way into the dining area. Eric had been eating alone, and she had approached him with a charming smile, then asked if there had been any problem with his order. After one look at her, and without mincing words, he’d asked her out for the next day.

“I called you out here to tell you what a wonderful job you did with the sea bass, but looking at you now, I would love for you to accompany me tomorrow to critique another chef’s work.”

Along with that admiration had come a sudden feeling of shyness. Maisy had never been asked out so abruptly before. She certainly didn’t consider herself beautiful or sexy enough to warrant such admiration. Face heating up in embarrassment while saying a silent prayer that the low lighting in the restaurant would be enough to hide her blush, she answered, “No, thank you. I’m quite busy tomorrow actually. Thanks for the compliment on the food. Means a lot to me, professionally."

Eric began to show up at the restaurant every day after that, always finding charming ways to compliment her and ask her out. Things like sending roses and notes to the kitchen so often that Maisy became the joke of the kitchen staff. Then, one night after work, she’d found him waiting for her outside the restaurant. He was in his car holding a dozen yellow roses and dressed like he was going to an awards show. Bringing out a picnic basket and a checked blanket, which he spread out on the ground, Eric invited her to join him for an impromptu date right there in the parking lot. Maybe it was because she was tired from a long day at work, or perhaps because she’d found his gesture really romantic, something which had been rare in her life, Maisy finally agreed to eat with him “just this once.” She’d ended up enjoying herself so much she agreed to go out with him the next weekend.

Eric was charming and extremely nice, and Maisy loved how confident he always sounded and acted. She also loved how he seemed to know her — what to do to make her smile and how accurate his guesses were with what she wanted. It was clear from the onset he was a take-charge kind of guy, and Maisy hadn’t minded leaving most of the decisions up to him.

That one date led to almost two years of a somewhat great relationship with Eric, and even though Maisy had to admit he had his faults, she was sure he loved her. After a flurry of dates over the first six months, each one more romantic than the previous, Maisy had moved in with him.

Soon after, at the insistence of Brittany, Maisy finally self-published the cookbook she had been writing for years. It was an almost-instant hit. The cookbook, which taught how to turn every day, simple foods into fancy meals, had been written with romance in mind. Eric had played a significant role in her writing the book, helping her do most of the tasting and encouraging her “little personal project,” as he called it. So, it came as a shock to Maisy when, about three months after the book got to the top of Amazon’s bestseller list, she started noticing a change in Eric’s attitude toward her.

A lot of it stemmed from the recognition, fame, and money the book brought, she guessed. People came to meet her in public to tell her how much they liked the book and how the book had helped them. However, the more people who came, the meaner Eric got with her. It started with little things, like snide comments or walking off and abandoning her when she was approached in public for those rare moments when someone wanted her to sign a copy of the cookbook.

The snide comments evolved into verbal abuse. He delivered derogatory comments without any effort to hide his disdain for her and her newfound spotlight. Eric even accused her of putting her “amateurish writing career above our relationship.” Nothing Maisy did to remedy the situation seemed to work. Stubborn, she refused to break things off with Eric, even at Brittany’s insistence. Had it been out of guilt or obligation? She wasn’t sure which now. In the end, that decision was taken away from her when she came home and found most of her things already packed and waiting for her along with Eric in the living room. There, he told her he couldn’t do it anymore, and he was breaking up with her, being sure to take the opportunity to point out everything he now hated about her.

“One damn cookbook, and you suddenly think you’re bigger than everyone, as if I weren’t the one who made sure you wrote the damn thing,” he’d berated her. If he’d been bothered by the look of hurt in her eyes, he hadn’t shown it.

While his comments about her writing and cooking, which he’d called mediocre at best, had pained Maisy a lot, they were small jabs compared to his attack on her greatest source of insecurity. Her weight.

Maisy knew she wasn’t even close to model thin, which was something she’d been self-conscious about most of her life. Never enough to make her hate herself, but enough so there was always guilt if she had that last slice of pie for dessert or made a stop at the local doughnut shop not far from the house. She’d tried giving exercise a go, mostly at the request of Eric — who it now seemed had an issue with her weight — but after a few days, she’d decided it wasn’t for her. Of course, there were the times it seemed he was less than impressed by her efforts, but hearing Eric call her out as “the big, fat slob” he had to “put up with for the last two years” crushed whatever fragile wall of self-assurance she thought she had. She could only stare in shock as he recounted tale after tale relating to her weight . . . talking about how she ate, and her love for pies and cakes, and even the “inordinate amount of time” it took her to put on jeans in the morning. He hadn’t held back any punches. By the time Maisy finally managed to get her remaining things together and get out of there, having called Brittany to come pick her up, the damage had been done.

For almost a week after the sordid experience, Maisy barely ate anything. Initially out of heartbreak, but mostly because every time she tried to put something in her mouth, she could still hear Eric’s voice in her head. It took Brittany, and a lot of tissues, to finally get her to go out again. However, everywhere Maisy went, she was reminded of her time with Eric. The whole city served as a reminder of how long and deep her relationship with Eric had been.

Now that she was moved and had taken the first big step in settling down — buying this house — Maisy was beginning to doubt herself. Wondering if she could really do it, she was unsure if she could settle down and start a new life all on her own. Already, she missed Brittany and her old job back in Chicago. Knowing she was allowing herself to get depressed again, Maisy returned her attention to Jesse who, it seemed, had left her alone to brood.

“Sorry, I seemed to have checked out just then,” Maisy said with a small smile.

“No problem. Buying a house is a really big step for anyone. It’s understandable if you feel a little overwhelmed. Just take a look around. Try to picture yourself in each of the rooms in the house and see how you feel. You may start getting ideas on how you want to refurnish the place,” he replied with a warm smile that suddenly made Maisy realize how cute he was.

Cute or not, Maisy wasn’t getting into a relationship anytime soon, or maybe even ever again. The wounds from her breakup with Eric were too fresh in her mind.

“Can I see the kitchen?” she finally asked him.

Following him as he led her back downstairs and into the kitchen, Maisy was reminded of the real reason she’d fallen in love with this particular house. The kitchen would suit any chef’s dream. It had a spacious island, and she adored the marble countertops. Distracted with planning where all her pots and knives were going to go, Maisy almost forgot about Jesse.

He cleared his throat to draw her attention back. “So, as you can see, it has everything which was advertised in the brochure. Unfortunately, there is somewhere I need to be right now, so I’ll leave you to have a proper look around. Call me if you have any questions or problems settling in, okay?” he said, and Maisy nodded her head. “I mean that. Anything at all that you need, and not just about the house, please call. I grew up here, so I can show you around if you want,” he offered with a smile Maisy thought looked a bit flirtatious.

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