Page 18 of A Taste of Christmas Magic

She laughed. “I think the spice will clear out half the room. You may save that girl yet, though she’s never lacked courage. Go on then, remount your white horse.”

Miss Millie propelled him with surprising strength toward the swinging door that led to the parlor. “By the way, I made a change on the feast map this year. Check-in will be at The Wild Side as well as where the patrons will finish. I’m expecting the unexpected and wow factor, Rustin, so stop perseverating.”

She pushed him through the door, but he stuck his foot out to stop it from swinging back into his face.

“I’m not involved in the feast,” he said decisively. “This”—he brandished the tray—“is my contribution.”

Just the thought of the Movable Feast turned his stomach. Growing up, the event had sounded like a golden ticket to an adult version of Willy Wonka’s works. He’d heard stories about guests buying new clothes, magazine-worthy food, live Christmas music at every house, chocolate fountains, steaming, savory cheese to dip homemade bread and more in, real reindeer, and Santa handing out presents and prizes all in homes that were mansions, full of treasures and history.

Rustin, who’d always been hungry, had lived to catch details about the food. He’d wanted to sneak in, hide, and spy on the opulent pleasures. Steal some food to take home to his family so they could pretend to be grand, part of something good.

“Of course you are.” Miss Millie had no doubt. “I’m thinking a little nightcap or bounce at the end of the evening to encourage the guests to open their wallets again.”

“That was never part of the deal. I’m not opening until after the New Year.”

“It is now,” Miss Millie said complacently. “Sitting out the holiday season is dumb,” she said bluntly. “And you are not a stupid man.”

“I’m not ready,” he said, fiercely resenting the manipulation pushing in on all sides now.

“Then I suggest you prep yourself. Nothing like a time crunch to get the creative juices pumping. Fear doesn’t look good on you, Rustin. Besides,” her voice turned crafty, “you came here today as a thank you, so clearly you owe me.”

“You said my success was thanks enough.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

And with one final push from Miss Millie, Rustin was propelled backward through the swinging door into a narrow passageway—it was a sort of a butler’s kitchen—that lead to the parlor.

*

Chloe clasped herhands together between her thighs.

“Thank you everyone for coming,” she said, noting that Jessica had ensconced herself in Grandma Millie’s usual chair. Chloe practically sighed at how effortlessly elegant and beautiful Jessica was. She held court like a queen. Hard to imagine Chloe saw her more wearing gardening gloves and a dirt-stained romper than dressed up in her Lilly Pulitzer pretty.

Chloe waited for everyone to sit, but they didn’t. And Meghan and Sarah hadn’t showed up yet—hopefully that meant they trusted her to pull this off. More nervous, she looked to Jessica, who raised one elegant brow as if to sayyour party.

More like my doom.

Chloe cleared her throat. No reaction. She could feel Jessica’s look drilling into the side of her head.

Pull it together. You are a teacher!

“I’d like to get the meeting started.”

The volume of women chatting didn’t dim one decibel as far as she could tell.

“Ladies, please, let’s get started! We have a lot to talk about with the Movable Feast, and I know y’all are busy.”

Of the seven women attending the meeting, three huddled together near the blazing fireplace chatting away, and four others sat together, two on matching Stickley chairs and the other two on a love seat, but really in one conversational grouping.

Chloe bounced out of her seat. “Ladies,” she sang out and then rhythmically clapped. Seven pair of eyes swiveled in her direction.

“Really, Chloe,” sniffed Mrs. Mason. “We are not your students, dear. Of course, we are waiting for Miss Millie. It’s unlike her to keep us waiting. And your mother, Jessica; she’s uncharacteristically tardy, and I don’t see your sisters.”

Chloe gulped.

And we’re off…

“Actually,” Chloe dug deep for her teacher’s smile, the one that saidI know y’all don’t want to do this, but we’ll find some fun, “we’re switching things up a little this year.”

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