Page 21 of A Chef's Kiss for Christmas

“Wow,” Warren said, stretching his neck and fighting the urge to walk out. “Why are you here, Dad?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, why did you come to visit me? Was it just so you could try to talk some sense into me?”

He took a measured sip of his drink. “Your mother thinks it’s time we sorted things out. I agree with her, of course. Hence the olive branch.”

Warren blinked slowly. “I’m sorry – was there an olive branch?”

“I’m offering for you to come back to the family business. Even after everything that’s happened.”

“How big of you,” Warren said, his words heavy with sarcasm.

“Come on now. Your mum has her heart set on us making amends. Do the right thing. For her sake, if nothing else.”

For a moment, all Warren could do was stare at his dad. Then he exhaled a long breath and stood up.

“Goodbye, Dad,” he said as he walked away.

Chapter Eight

Following the craft fair at the community centre, Anna’s day ended with her being physically tired but mentally alert. She tried calling her sister, thinking a natter with Carla would help, but she got no answer.

Going to bed would no doubt entail staring at the ceiling for hours on end, and she couldn’t face that. Instead, she grabbed her coat and headed for the hotel. It would be a first if she didn’t find someone there to chat to. She could prop up the bar for an hour and then go to bed when there was a better chance that she might actually sleep.

On the front desk, she was greeted by Tom, the general manager. As a fairly recent addition to the team, he was the member of staff Anna knew the least.

“Hello,” he said in an overly cheerful tone, which suggested he didn’t recognise her and assumed she was a guest.

“Hi,” she replied. “I take it my brother isn’t here?”

“Oh.” Recognition hit his features. “No, he isn’t.”

“I don’t suppose Carla’s here?”

“I haven’t seen her today.”

“Ivy?” she asked hopefully.

He nodded. “Working on the bar.”

“Perfect. Thanks.” She walked through the lounge and into the restaurant, where a few tables were occupied. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, sliding onto a bar stool opposite Ivy. “I had a weird day and I can’t get hold of Carla.”

Ivy pushed a wayward strand of red hair behind her ear. “I love being a backup sister.”

“Sorry!” Anna grimaced. “That was rude. I didn’t even say hi or ask how you are.”

“I was being genuine,” Ivy said brightly. “I do like being your backup sister. Also, I’m bored to tears. Please tell me about your weird day.” She turned to get a bottle of wine from the fridge and raised a questioning eyebrow before pouring Anna a glass.

“I met Warren’s parents,” she said eventually, twirling the glass on the mat.

“Really?” Ivy’s eyes lit up. “What are they like?”

“Posh.”

“No way!”

“They are. I swear. His mum’s okay. His dad’s not particularly likeable. They’re nothing like Warren.”