Page 27 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)
“Stir the béchamel constantly so it doesn’t scorch on the bottom,” Mia instructed, willing her voice to remain steady, even though inside she felt like she was breaking into a thousand shards of glass. “It should coat the back of the spoon when it’s ready—silky and smooth.”
She moved to the meat sauce station. “Add the tomato paste and let it cook out for a full minute. That brings depth to the flavor. Then add the marinara, oregano, and let it simmer. You want a thick, hearty sauce.”
Over by the noodle station, she pointed to the colander. “Once they’re drained, lay the noodles flat on a sheet tray so they don’t stick together. And go easy on the mozzarella between layers. A heavy hand will drown out the other flavors.”
Mia moved between stations, checking on the simmering meat sauce and offering guidance as the béchamel came together in glossy, white rivulets.
She avoided looking straight at Logan, afraid it would undo her completely.
And all the while, she thought about Abby’s suggestion.
What if the investors were willing to let her open right here in Sugarville Grove?
The answer would most likely be no, but she had to ask.
Maybe a Christmas miracle would come her way and they’d wholeheartedly accept her suggestion.
When the lasagnas were all put together, they went into the ovens and timers were set.
“All right, while those bake, we’re going to make a simple chopped salad to go with dinner,” Mia said.
“Grab a cutting board and a bowl. You’ll need romaine, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, garbanzo beans, black olives, and pepperoncini.
And don’t forget the salami and provolone—this is a salad that could be a whole meal in itself. ”
She demonstrated the fine dice for the onion, the bite-sized chunks for the cucumber, and how to chiffonade the lettuce for that classic chopped texture.
“Do you remember what we did with the basil? Same idea here. The trick to a chopped salad is to make sure every bite gets a little of everything. We’ll toss it all with a red wine vinaigrette just before serving. ”
Just then, the door creaked open.
Patty stepped in, a smile brightening her face. The kids trailed behind her, cheeks pink from the cold, all three wearing what appeared to be new knit hats, mittens, and scarves. Cannoli bolted from her bed to greet them. All three kids knelt to pet her.
“Hope it’s okay we’re here,” Patty said.
“We brought you all something that we made especially for you in our new kitchen.” She held up a loaf of garlic bread, wrapped in foil.
“We’ve just come from town. Mr. Stratton gave us tickets for the ice skating rink and enough to rent skates and hot cocoa. ”
“And he gave us these new hats and mittens.” Daisy stopped petting Cannoli long enough to hold up her hands to show them.
“How kind of him,” Thelma said, a matchmaking twinkle in her eyes.
Everyone started asking questions all at once. Patty and the kids filled them all in on her new job and home.
“We have an oven that works now,” Molly said, rising to her feet. “And our Dad always said Mom’s garlic bread was the best he ever tasted.”
“So we brought it for you.” Daisy also got up, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “To say thank you for feeding us so much.”
“You’re in luck, because we have enough lasagna to feed a boarding house full of hungry teenagers,” Mia said.
“What does that mean?” Benji asked.
“It means there’s a lot,” Mia said. “Now you three wash up so you can set the table.”
“Yay,” Daisy shouted.
As the lasagnas came out, bubbling and golden, they all sat down to eat together.
The warmth from the dishes seemed to seep into Mia's chest as she watched happy faces sharing the food they'd made with their own hands.
She looked around the table at her community—at people who had embraced her not just as a teacher but as a friend.
The word “home” whispered through her mind, unbidden and terrifying in its certainty.
During her years in New York, ambition had consumed everything, leaving little room for friendships or connection.
She hadn't realized then how lonely she'd been, how hollow.
When she'd lost everything and landed here, it had felt like her life was ending.
Instead, she'd found herself surrounded by people who genuinely cared—people she'd trusted tonight with something deeply personal, a vulnerability she never would have shared before.
Somehow, Sugarville Grove had cracked her open, shown her what a full life could actually look like.
And it had brought her Logan Hayes.
She glanced at Logan across the table, his eyes dark and tired, but there.
She caught the tension in his shoulders even as he made small talk with the others, the careful way he held his fork.
Still, he’d come. Even though she could see how hard it was for him to be here with her and how much she’d obviously hurt him, he’d been courageous enough to show up.
He was a man to build a life around. To have a family with.
He’d shown her who he was, time and time again. She would be a fool to walk away.
Tomorrow, she’d ask Carmichael to consider her offer. If he declined, then she would stay right where she was and never look back. That was all there was to it.
When the meal was over and the dishes began to be cleared, she took a step toward Logan, hoping to speak with him and ask if he’d stay to talk. However, he stood abruptly, grabbed his coat, and strode toward the door with Cannoli at his heels.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said to no one in particular, then turned and walked out, leaving Cannoli behind without a backward glance.
As the door slammed shut, Mia’s stomach dropped as if the floor had given way beneath her.
Cannoli remained at the door, tail wagging hopefully, seemingly sure he would come back to her.
But he didn’t. He was gone. Mia stood there, heart aching.
Her hand reached out instinctively, then fell back to her side, fingers still curved as if grasping for him.
Her students gathered close, Reese rubbing her back while Harold patted her hand, their voices a chorus of gentle encouragement. Not even their warmth and concern could ease the cold, hollow ache where her heart used to be.