Page 24 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

She smiled as she glanced around her kitchen.

When she’d first opened Mia’s, she’d felt as if she had made a huge step back in her career.

The kitchen was small, with exposed brick walls, sleek black cabinetry and open shelving displaying neat rows of plates, copper pots, and jars of spices.

Stainless steel counters gleamed, reflecting the soft light, while the big gas range sent out a low, steady heat.

Her long prep table in the center was dusted with the faintest sheen of flour, the surface worn smooth from years of service.

From the dish station came the sound of Evan setting another tray into the washer, steam curling upward as the cycle kicked on again.

When she’d made the changes necessary for a commercial kitchen, she’d wondered if it was a fool’s errand.

Would anyone show up? Was service only two nights a week enough to keep the place afloat?

Could she really cook the way she wanted in such a small space?

But word had spread quickly about the special dining experience at Mia’s, including the sleigh ride in from the parking area and Remi’s excellent service and the excellent food.

In hindsight, she shouldn’t have worried so much.

She offered an experience people valued.

One they chose for their special celebrations, which warmed Mia’s heart.

She wiped her hands on her apron, thankful for another successful night almost complete.

Upstairs, Cannoli would be waiting for her to arrive with a few treats for good behavior.

Maybe she would text Logan and see if he wanted to join her for brunch in town tomorrow.

She hadn’t seen him today at all, and she found she missed him more than she’d thought possible.

“Hello, anyone home?” Logan peeped in through the back door.

Mia’s pulse quickened at the sight of him in a dark coat, snow dusting his shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” He crossed the kitchen in a few strides, leaning in to brush his lips against hers in a quick, familiar kiss. “Is it okay that I’m back here? Am I breaking a code or anything?”

“Since I own the place, I’m going to say no.” Her heart did its now-familiar flip. “It’s late. What are you doing out?”

“I was out at my parents for a family dinner and I wanted to see you but I couldn’t think of an excuse until Max reminded me about his ugly sweater party Sunday night. He asked if I wanted to bring you, which I most certainly do. If you’d like to go, that is.”

“You had me at ‘ugly sweater.’”

“The sweaters are usually truly hideous. My entire family will be there, trying to outdo one another with the tackiest one. It’s usually loud, especially because the kids will be there, but very fun. Max puts out a great spread and there’s always good wine open.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” She hesitated. “Should we invite Patty and her kids?”

“Already taken care of by my mother.”

“She thinks of everything,” Mia said.

“Absolutely true.” He glanced toward the ceiling as if he’d heard the click of Cannoli’s paws. “Want me to take Cannoli out for a quick break before I go?”

“She’d like that.” Mia reached under the counter to give him a few dog treats. “She’ll especially like to see you with treats in hand.”

“I’m on it.”

He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him in for a kiss. “Thanks for coming to see me. You’ve made my night.”

He took both her hands in his, looking into her eyes. “I’m so happy. You’ve made me so happy.”

“You’ve made me happy too.”

He gave her another kiss before heading upstairs.

The kitchen felt lonely without him, though the warmth of his visit lingered.

She was about to start cleaning up for the night when her phone rang.

Probably Logan calling from upstairs with a question about Cannoli.

But the number was unfamiliar, with a Manhattan area code.

“Hello, this is Mia.”

“Mia Bianchi?” The voice was smooth, confident, the kind that belonged on the upper floors of glass-and-steel skyscrapers. “This is Daniel Carmichael, CEO of Carmichael Hospitality. We own and operate a portfolio of restaurants in New York City.”

Her brows drew together and her heart started pounding. “I’m familiar with your company. How can I help you?” Why was he calling so late?

“I’m one of your biggest fans. Before your restaurant closed, I was there once a month.”

“Oh, well thank you,” Mia said.

“I hear you’re in Vermont now, running a small Italian place?”

“That’s right.”

“My company is looking to open a new restaurant with an Italian concept in Manhattan next spring—a flagship location. Fully backed by our company, with creative control in the right hands. And we think those hands should be yours.”

Mia blinked, her grip tightening on the phone. “Me?”

“The salary’s competitive,” Daniel continued smoothly, “and we’re prepared to provide every resource you’d need. You’d be back in the spotlight where you belong, with a kitchen worthy of your talent.”

The hum of the quiet kitchen seemed louder somehow, and her throat felt suddenly dry. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We’d love to set up a time to discuss details,” Daniel said. “Of course, we understand it’s a big decision. But I believe it’ll be a great move for you.”

“Sure, yes. I’d like to hear more.”

“Excellent. We’re excited to share our vision with you.”

“Just so you know, I’m happy where I am,” she said as he clicked off. That word happy again. She was happy, right?

Her gaze drifted to the worn wooden recipe box on the shelf above her station, the one her father had given her. She felt a bit like that box with its old recipes stuffed inside it these days—more sentiment than ambition.

The back door opened again, letting in a gust of cold air and the sound of Cannoli’s tags jingling. Logan stepped inside, the little dog wriggling happily in his arms.

He smiled when he saw her. “She’s all set.” His smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”

Mia took in a deep breath. “You won’t believe it. I just got a job offer. In New York.”