Page 19 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)
“All right, everyone. Now it’s sauce time.
This is the simplest part of the recipe, but it’s also where the flavor really blooms. You don’t want to rush it.
” Mia moved to her skillet, adding butter in generous pats.
It began to melt instantly, the pale yellow turning glossy, then foamed, tiny bubbles racing to the surface.
“Take a good look at this. Do you see how it’s foamy but still pale?
You must keep a close watch. Butter goes from perfect to burnt in a matter of seconds.
We want a nutty, golden brown—not black. ”
Mia picked up a handful of fresh sage leaves.
“Now for the sage. Whole leaves go right in.” She dropped them into the butter, which responded with a satisfying sizzle.
“That sound means they’re crisping. Fresh sage will perfume the butter as it toasts, adding that warm, almost woodsy flavor that makes this dish feel like winter comfort. ”
The leaves darkened slightly at the edges, curling. “When the sage is crisp, the butter should be golden and smell a little nutty—that’s how you know it’s done. Don’t walk away, even for a second.”
Her students’ first trays of gnocchi were ready for the boiling water. Cannoli rose from her corner, tail wagging, and trotted closer as if she knew something exciting was about to happen.
“All right,” Mia said, giving her skillet a gentle swirl. “Butter’s done. Sage is crisp. Your sauce is ready and waiting. Let’s see how our gnocchi fare in the pot.”
Harold was first, easing his plump, uneven gnocchi into the boiling water. They tumbled in like a crowd rushing through a door, some spinning, some sinking briefly before bobbing to the surface. “Look at that. We have a few survivors.” Harold grinned.
Thelma’s went into her pot next, her perfectly uniform pieces behaving exactly as expected, with each one rising at the same time, a little like synchronized swimming.
“Beautiful,” Mia said. “That’s exactly what we want to see.”
Abby’s followed, the deep ridges holding onto tiny pockets of water as they surfaced. “See there?” Mia pointed out to the class. “Those fork marks will catch the butter beautifully.”
Kris’s gnocchi hit the water and immediately caused a commotion. Some floated right away, others took their time, one particularly large piece bobbing stubbornly at the bottom. “I think that one’s on strike.” Kris leaned over the pot. “Refuses to work under these conditions.”
Reese’s perfect gnocchi slipped into the water like little pearls, every single one rising at the exact same moment, as if she’d trained them personally. The class murmured in admiration, and Reese ducked her head again, cheeks pink.
“They’re like your little ballerinas,” Abby said. “Perfectly behaved.”
Then came Logan’s. The larger “boulder” pieces caused a more dramatic reaction. The water hissed and splashed as they sank with weight, surfacing a little slower than the others. Cannoli barked once at the splash, then looked around as if waiting for applause.
Logan looked over at Mia, a sheepish smile on his handsome face. “Guess we’ll see if bigger really is better.”
“Size isn’t everything,” Mia said, drawing a ripple of laughter from the group. “What matters is how they taste.”
She moved between stations, helping them transfer the cooked gnocchi gently into their skillets of butter and sage.
The fragrance deepened as the dumplings were tossed, each batch glistening and flecked with crisp leaves.
Cannoli followed behind, nose twitching, her eyes darting hopefully from pan to pan.
“All right, lovely students,” Mia said. “Let’s eat.”
Everyone cheered—Cannoli included, with a happy little bark.
After they’d enjoyed their meal, everyone joined together to wash the dishes and scrub counters.
“Another successful night,” Mia said, pulling off her apron when the last pan was in the dishwasher.
Thelma brushed a streak of flour from her cheek. “I can’t wait for next class.”
Harold chuckled, wiping his hands. “What fun this is, Mia. Thank you again. It’s made my December … pretty great actually.” He winked at Thelma, who giggled.
There was laughter and the scrape of chairs as the class began packing up.
Cannoli padded between the tables, tail wagging, making sure to say goodnight to each of them as coats were buttoned, bags gathered, and, one by one, they trickled out into the cold December night, their voices fading into the quiet.
Logan, the only one left with Mia besides Cannoli, leaned casually against the counter.
“You walking me to my car?” Mia asked.
“Better idea,” Logan said. “What do you say we go downtown? Pick up a few things for Patty’s kids at Treasure Chest Toys. Before they sell out of everything?”
“That’s a great idea. I haven’t had time to do anything Christmassy yet this season. I mean, not that I have the last four years, either, but I’m game.”
“Do you want to walk?” Logan asked. The elementary school was about a five-minute walk from the center of town.
“Yes, Cannoli should go out anyway.” Mia crouched, reaching for the little red sweater hanging from the hook by the door.
“You’ll freeze out there, peanut.” Cannoli stood patiently—well, almost patiently—while Mia slipped her front paws through the openings and fastened the Velcro along her back.
Once dressed, the pup gave a full-body shake, as if to settle the sweater just right, and trotted to the door, ready for adventure.
Logan grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, holding the door for them.
Outside, the cold air nipped at Mia’s cheeks, but the small downtown was aglow—garlands draped over lampposts, wreaths on shop doors, the faint scent of grilled sausages coming from the pop-up skating rink.
Cannoli trotted alongside them, nails clicking softly on the sidewalk, sniffing everything.
Inside the store, it smelled like spun sugar.
Rows of shelves were lined with dolls, puzzles, and wooden trains, each display twinkling with tiny white lights.
Shelves were stacked with dolls in gingham dresses, model trains chugging in neat circles, puzzles and board games, wooden toys painted in bright, cheerful colors.
A tiny village glittered in the front window, the lights from its miniature houses casting a soft glow on the snow-sprinkled display.
Mia’s chest tightened in that way it always did at Christmas—the beauty of it tangled with the ache of knowing not every child woke to this kind of magic.
Cannoli paused in the entryway, nose twitching at the new scents, before following Mia down the first aisle.
Halfway to the back, the dog stopped dead in front of a display of plush animals.
One particularly large stuffed cow stared back at her with shiny black eyes.
Cannoli inched forward, sniffing its felt nose—only to leap back when it let out a mechanical “Moo!” Mia laughed and bent to give her a reassuring pat.
“It’s okay, silly girl. He’s not real.” Cannoli shot the cow one last suspicious glance before trotting ahead, ears still perked just in case it tried anything else.
Mia straightened, smiling as she took in the rest of the store. “It’s like stepping into a child’s version of heaven.”
Logan’s smile softened. “Let’s make sure Patty’s kids get a little slice of heaven this season.”
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“Okay,” Logan said, scanning the shelves. “Now what?”
“I asked Kris but the kids haven’t been to see Santa yet this year,” Mia said.
“We know Benji wants to play baseball,” Logan said. “But I’ll stop at the sporting goods store another day and get him a bat, ball and mitt. I bet we can find him a few surprises though. I’m basically an eight-year-old boy myself, so I’ll know what to choose.”
Mia laughed. “I would’ve guessed thirteen, not eight.”
They started with Molly. Mia’s eyes landed on a beautiful hardcover book set— Anne of Green Gables , Little Women , and The Secret Garden —bound in jewel-toned covers, and knew instantly Molly would love them.
Logan added a craft kit for making friendship bracelets. “My nieces love these.”
For Benji, Logan gravitated toward the display of model kits—cars, airplanes, and a bright red firetruck. “Something he can build,” he said.
And for Daisy, Mia found a soft rag doll in a blue calico dress, her yarn hair tied in neat bows.
Logan grinned and picked up a stuffed dog that looked remarkably like Cannoli, holding it up for comparison.
Cannoli tilted her head, sniffed it, and then, deciding it met with her approval, gently mouthed the toy before Logan set it in the basket.
“I talked to Abby about finding a dog for Daisy at one of the local shelters,” Logan said. “But we have to make sure Patty’s okay with it first.”
Mia nodded in agreement. “If she gets the job with Grant Stratton, he may have a rule against dogs.”
“Well, at least she’ll have a stuffed one,” Logan said.
They moved to the bins near the register, filling a small basket with stocking stuffers—peppermint sticks, glittery crayons, a jumble of tiny plastic dinosaurs, and a pair of sparkly barrettes that made Mia smile.
Cannoli busied herself by sniffing every bin, tail wagging whenever she found something that smelled faintly of sugar.
At one point, she carefully lifted a small bag of peppermint sticks from the display and trotted a few steps before Mia caught up, laughing.
“Okay, fine, you can help pick one.” Mia dropped the bag into the basket and gave her a scratch behind the ears.
By the time they were done, the counter was full.
“Logan, let me help,” Mia said, reaching for her bag.
“No, I’ve got it.” He pulled out his wallet. “No arguments.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to. Let me do this.”
Mia hesitated, then nodded, the protest softening in her chest. He was such a good man. Kind, thoughtful, empathetic. When would the other shoe drop? When would she see the real him? Or was this truly who he was?
Outside, the air felt sharper after the warmth of the shop. The bags rustled softly in Logan’s hands as Cannoli trotted ahead, little sweater bright against the night—proudly carrying the bag of peppermint sticks in her mouth like she had made the most important purchase of the evening.
Logan glanced at her and grinned. “Guess we know who’s in charge of stocking stuffers this year.”
Mia laughed, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm as they headed toward the school.