Page 2 of Four Stepbrothers for Christmas

Isaac cleared his throat. "We've been considering some company changes—expansions, actually. But for that to happen, there are certain opportunities we'll need to explore. Some of these discussions will require discretion on everyone's part, including yours."

I arched an eyebrow, intrigued but slightly bewildered. "Discretion? I'm not in the habit of sharing company secrets, if that's what you mean."

Vinnie laughed. "It's not about that. It's a bit more complicated. And it's something we hope you'd be comfortable with, but we'll need your full consent."

My heart rate picked up a notch. "I'm all ears.”

Each man exchanged a look, as if passing an unspoken agreement between them. Finally, Isaac spoke.

"How would you feel about extending your current responsibilities? "

“As in, being our personal chef,” Archer said, making the proposal clear. “Not only for the executive floor. You’d cook for us, travel with us, create meal plans for us – the works.”

“But this would put you closer to us,” Vinnie added. “And that’s where the discretion comes in.”

My eyes darted from one face to another. They were serious. And suddenly, the room felt a few degrees warmer.

"We would, of course, discuss the terms in detail," Isaac added. "Only if you're interested."

Interested? I was puzzled and maybe a dash flattered. But most of all, I felt the unmistakable rush of a new challenge. And for the first time in months, I felt genuinely excited about what lay ahead.

"Oh, I'm interested," I said without hesitation, locking eyes with each of them in turn. "Let's hear the details."

Truth be told, the idea of spending five days in a mountain cabin, immersed in my culinary element, was too alluring to resist. And if this was a possible way to assure my future -and career- even better.

Isaac gave a brief explanation of what was expected over the five days. I met Isaac's gaze, then Vinnie's, Archer's, and finally, Luke's. I saw varying degrees of hope and expectation in their eyes, and for some inexplicable reason, that sealed the deal.

"I accept," I announced, feeling a newfound excitement course through me.

"Excellent," Isaac said, his lips curling into a satisfied smile as the others visibly relaxed.

Luke seemed to sense my lingering questions, because as everyone began to disperse, he caught my eye and added, "You should know, Becca, when you're not actively cooking, your time is entirely your own. We want you to enjoy the place as much as we do."

Archer added, “The cabin's in a beautiful location. You could go hiking—though it might be a bit chilly this time of year. There's a hot tub, the deck has a truly amazing view you won’t want to miss. Or if you'd prefer to relax indoors, your room will have all the amenities.”

The way he described it made it sound like I was getting an all-expenses-paid vacation rather than a job assignment. Cooking, to me, wasn't work; it was passion, it was art. The idea that I could spend my off hours soaking in a hot tub or hiking through gorgeous scenery felt almost too good to be true.

I looked at Luke, his eyes holding that same quiet sincerity I'd come to appreciate. I realized then just how much I'd unconsciously been seeking his assurance, and how much it meant now that I had it.

"That sounds wonderful," I admitted, the last of my reservations dissipating like morning fog under the sun.

He smiled, clearly pleased. "We’re glad you’ve agreed."

As I left the office and made my way back to the kitchen, I felt a bubbling sense of excitement, an effervescence of anticipation. The cabin trip wasn't just a business proposition; it was shaping up to be a unique sort of adventure, an opportunity to break away from the routine, to be inspired and perhaps eventoinspire.

Maybe the mountain air and the stunning vistas would spark some culinary creativity, leading me to perfect a recipe or invent a new dish entirely. Plus, cooking for Isaac, Vinnie, Archer, and Luke—a discerning but appreciative audience—would undoubtedly be a pleasure, not a chore.

As I began to pre-plan the menus in my head, envisioning the ingredients I'd need, the flavors I could combine, and the plating aesthetics, it became increasingly clear: this trip was an incredible gift, a serendipitous alignment of work and play, of duty and desire. And I couldn't wait to see how it would unfold.

* * *

I guided my car up the narrow, serpentine road, every twist and turn demanding my full attention. The vehicle was weighed down by an impressive haul of groceries—enough to feed four large men and myself for five days, three meals a day, plus snacks. I glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the packed bags in the back seat, and the tension in my shoulders eased just a little.

My focus had to be on the road, especially with how steep and unpredictable the incline was, but my mind was far away, grappling with the things money could and couldn't fix. Half of the bonus had already been mentally allocated to cover my brother’s next stint in rehab. This would be his third time. The other two times had torn through my savings, had borrowed hope from my already dwindling supply, yet he’d slipped back each time. Hopefully, this time would be different. Hopefully, this time he would emerge free from the demons that haunted him.

"If you can't get clean this time, Mikey, I can't keep doing this," I had told him before leaving, my voice tinged with a mixture of exasperation and sorrow. "And you won't be staying with me either. You'll have to go to Mom." The words had hurt to say, adding an emotional weight to the already heavy reality. Our mother, still blissfully ignorant of the depths of Mikey’s addiction, would be a last resort. But it was a boundary I was forced to draw for my own well-being.

Shaking the melancholic thoughts from my head, I tried to focus on the road again, and just in time. Two deer bounded across the asphalt some fifty yards ahead, their forms elegant and graceful. The sight brought an involuntary smile to my face.

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