Page 10 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

Chloe kicked thedoor and then pressed her back against the cold steel. That had just happened. She’d beenRustined—pushed out and shut down.

“Same as it ever was,” she muttered.

She kicked the door again with her heel just to vent the last vestiges of her frustration, but she was already feeling childish even as she tried to prove she was all grown up. Chloe looked up at the waxing moon, clouds scuttling across its pale face. Rustin was a beast.

She laughed. Maybe that made her Belle.

“As if.”

She couldn’t imagine a woman capable of taming Rustin.

She walked home, contemplating her next move. She could ask Grandma Millie, but that would defeat her bid to prove her independence and value. She’d said she’d run tomorrow’s meeting and create a memorable entrée for the Movable Feast. And yes, she would have help during the event, but she would be running the show, and her pride was on the line in a way it often wasn’t.

She imagined her cousins would jump in filled with advice, anticipating her failure.

“Not my first fallback to Google,” she muttered, not convinced Google would impress this crowd. She could hire a caterer; lots of hosts did, although theyclaimedthe recipe was a family one or from a famous chef, but they would guard it with their lives.

But that felt like cheating.

Conferring with Rustin felt right. Having him work beside her in Millie’s historic home would publicly welcome him back and ease his transition to being the new chef at the hugely remodeled Millie’s Diner. He’d probably totally overhauled the menu.

She walked along the part of the Riverwalk path that was finished, then she turned around to see where Millie’s had been. Sorrow pierced her heart. She’d grown up in that diner. It was a fixture. A place of comfort. The new look was edgy, interesting, and elegant in an industrial way, but it didn’t have the samecome in, lay down your troubles, and enjoy soup or a sandwich or fish or fried chicken platevibe.

The building was shrouded in darkness, mystery. Land had already been excavated for another development along the Riverwalk, incorporating one of the abandoned mills into what was going to be loft-type apartments, retail stores, offices with river views, a park, and connecting paths for biking, running, and walking. The new development would have a riverfront park with activities for families—river floating, paddle boards, kayaking—and it would connect to the small, historic downtown.

“But that does not solve my lack of culinary skills,” she said aloud. Rustin’s refusal to help irked her, but she wasn’t giving up. He was talented. He’d taken the shot Grandma Millie had given him and had made a name for himself. And judging from Jessica’s reaction, he was still going to receive a heap ofbless his heartscorn.

Besides, working with Rustin would ensure that she would show the three Ms and Grandma Millie that she could solve her own problems. Tackle a traditional and elegant event that raised funds for local families in need to have a Christmas, andscore!Her messed-up football analogy made her smile.

She wasn’t giving up on her Rustin plan, although she was sort of running out of time. The meeting was tomorrow, and she had to ensure that everyone had their menus and cooking and serving plans and that the subcommittees were on track. She’d planned enough concerts, field trips, school events, and lesson plans that she felt more confident in that area. She might still resemble a woodland fairy, but she was a strong teacher.

She’d come at Rustin from a different angle, make it harder for him to refuse. If they worked together on a menu, he’d hopefully see her as a woman, not Millie’s oddball granddaughter. And she’d gain some cooking insights. And have eye candy to feed her fantasies for months.

Chloe paused at the intersection where the historic district started. To the left she could see the downtown: three blocks of cute shops and sidewalks lined by replicas of old gas lamps. The street was anchored by a large, old-fashioned clock, which was one of the landmarks in which locals took a lot of pride.

She didn’t feel ready to cut across Maye Downtown Park to return to her carriage-house apartment. She was still too riled. Cold. And she still wore the dumb costume. No wonder Rustin hadn’t taken her seriously.

She needed to think of a recipe for tomorrow. Maybe if she cooked something early in the morning, she could take it to Rustin for advice, and he’d take pity on her and help.

Or throw me out again.

But she was not going to give up so easily. She wouldn’t let Grandma Millie down with an uninspired entrée that had guests complaining and demanding their money back and forever cementing her reputation as the odd and unsuccessful Maye.

“I can do this. Ihaveto do this,” she said, and even as she put power in her voice, she felt failure creeping behind her. Had her biological mother left a string of failures in her wake culminating in an unwanted, unloved baby?

Chloe walked along the massive wrought iron fence that circled the estate. She trailed her fingers along each bar as she’d done many times as a child imagining her mother standing outside the gates early on that Christmas morning twenty-six years ago. What had she felt? Fear? Regret? Guilt? Relief?

And what had she done afterward?

“Don’t think. Don’t think.” She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. Grandma Millie had always shut down speculation about her biological mother.

“We are your family,” Grandma Millie had always soothed, her voice and attitude never wavering.

But Chloe felt like she’d been wavering her entire life. She had to stop. To change. To take a stand and make it stick. Taking the job at the high school teaching English when she’d really wanted to pursue opera in Europe had been her sticking to something realistic, familiar, and safe.

Grandma Millie wouldn’t have to worry about her if she stayed in Belmont. She could take care of Grandma Millie if she got sick. And Chloe loved living in Belmont. She had singing opportunities in church and with the Belmont Women’s Choir. Plus she could pour her passion into her vocal students and the acapella choir she directed at South Point Abbey.

And now she was going to take a risk and step up to take her place socially alongside her cousins. She just needed a recipe for the Movable Feast.

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