Page 1 of The Holiday Fail

Chapter One

ANDY

I stepped into the one and only drinking facility in Wintertown: Dove’s Fountain.

I hadn’t given my new temporary home much thought when I’d accepted the position as head chef at the Fated Encounters B&B. The only thought that ran through my head was that I would have my very own kitchen.

This was an opportunity of a lifetime for me. A resume builder to help me rise in the ranks to lead me to my ultimate goal.

Perhaps I should have considered the location a bit more before jumping the gun. I knew nothing about this town besides the fact that they were, apparently, obsessed with doves.

Dove’s Fountain was packed. Though that wasn’t surprising, given it was a Sunday, and this was the only pub in town.

I looked around the patrons—most of whom were in shorts and tank tops—and once again contemplated how I was going to survive the next six months here. If the locals thoughtthiswas beachwear weather, I shivered just thinking about the upcoming months.

“Tourist?” the bartender guessed with a grin as he eyed my jacket. He was a blond dude who didn’t look legal enough to serve alcohol, but considering none of the locals batted an eye at him behind the bar, I wasn’t going to question it either.

“Is it that obvious that I’m an outsider?” I replied as I shucked off my outerwear and sank onto the single free bar stool.

“Well, considering it’s practically still summer here and you’re dressed for sweater weather…” He gestured to my navy cotton long-sleeved shirt and shot me a pointed look.

“Fair enough,” I said with a laugh, then asked for whatever was on tap. The bartender gave me a mock salute and came back not long later with my drink.

Instead of leaving to help the next person, he grabbed a rag. “So, what brings you to Wintertown? Did you get a calling from the Doves of Destiny?” He aimlessly swiped the rag on the counter as he spoke.

I wondered if chatting while wiping counters was an instinctual habit every barkeep had. Just like how every chef I’d met tidied up as they worked, as if they couldn’t help having a single thing out of place. That was one of the very first things I learned when I started in the kitchen.

“The doves of what now?”

“Doves of Destiny. We’re kinda known for them,” he explained with a wave around the room.

I followed his hand and only then noticed all the dove motifs the bar displayed. Art of all forms covered practically every inch of the walls, all depicting two doves with their beaks touching.

“You guys don’t play around with your doves,” Icommented, which earned me a lighthearted laugh from the bartender.

“You don’t even know the half of it. The name’s Jude, by the way. Call me if you need anything, and I’ll be right at your service,” he said with a wink before turning to help the older gentleman who’d taken the newly vacated seat beside me.

I took another chug of my beer. It went down smoothly and warmed me up from the night chill that still clung to my skin. It didn’t take long for me to wave down Jude for a refill. This time, I closed out the tab since I didn’t plan on drinking more afterward.

I wasn’t a heavy drinker, and it definitely wasn’t my usual M.O. to find the local pub as soon as I settled into a new location, but I was feeling restless in my room at the B&B.

It didn’t help that one of my new bosses, Henry, informed me the room was right above the kitchen when he showed me to the door. My already jittery nerves riled up even more in anticipation of my first day on the job.

This was the chance of a lifetime, and I couldn’t mess it up and become the failure everyone thought me to be. Nobody thought I would make it as a chef. My ex-coworkers had sneered at the fact that the head chef at my first restaurant had given me a chance in the kitchen.

I’d worked hard to move up the ranks over the years, from dishwasher to kitchen porter, then eventually junior chef. I’d put in my time all for the sake of making something of myself.

Even after all these years, recalling how my promotion from a busboy had only been met with snide remarks from my parents still stung.

I had to remind myself that the opinion of the two people who had no business having children didn’t matter. Especially not those two whose greatest ambition in life was finding enough cash to get their next fix.

Iwas better off not having them in my life anymore. I refused to follow down their path, the only path they believed I was worth.

I would not be a product of my upbringing.

It was times like these, when I went down the spiral of self-doubt, that I knew it was better that I wasn’t by myself.

I would usually message my best friend, Casey—the only person who was a constant in my life and actually believed in me—but he was currently on a flight back from one of his work trips. So my next best option was getting out for some fresh air, and that was how I ended up in the town’s only pub.

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