Page 29 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

MIA

M ia sat on her bed in her small apartment and opened her laptop for a video call with Daniel Carmichael. She’d worked on her pitch all Wednesday and was prepared to convince him that Sugarville Grove was the right place for her restaurant. She took a deep breath and hit dial .

“Carmichael here.”

“It’s Mia Bianchi. I’ve made a decision. Or at least … I have a proposal.”

“I’m listening.”

Her voice was steady. “I love the concept. I believe in the menu, the space, the experience. But I don’t want to leave Sugarville Grove.”

A pause. Then, “That’s a problem.”

“Not if you’re open to a different location. There’s an opportunity here—a historic building. The town’s been wanting a full-service restaurant, and the demand is here. It wouldn’t be a flagship location, but it would be mine . And I would pour my soul into it.”

Another long pause. “Go on.”

She laid it all out—the dance hall, the town’s need, the excitement already building. “You said you believed in me. So believe in me here. In this town. Let’s build something people talk about for generations, even if they have to take a train to get here.”

He exhaled slowly. “You make a powerful argument. New York City has a lot of restaurants but it sounds like Sugarville Grove is up for grabs. Let’s do it.”

“Oh my goodness, really?”

“Let’s make it the most successful venture either of us have ever had,” Daniel said.

It was really happening. She couldn’t wait to tell Logan. With Cannoli by her side, she headed to Logan’s office to tell him the good news.

The receptionist’s apologetic smile deflated her excitement slightly. “I’m sorry, Mia. He called in this morning and said he was taking the day off.”

Mia thanked her and walked back to her car, confusion prickling at her.

Logan never took random days off—he was the most reliable person she knew.

She drove through town toward his house, her hands tight on the steering wheel as possibilities ran through her mind.

Was he avoiding her? Had something happened?

His driveway was empty, the house dark. She sat in her car for several minutes, engine running, staring at the windows that reflected nothing back. The silence felt heavy, wrong somehow. On a Thursday afternoon, Logan should be at work, predictable as always. Instead, he’d vanished.

She pulled out her phone, hesitating. After asking for space, was calling him crossing a line? But this news—their news—couldn’t wait for a text. The phone rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Hey, Logan, it’s me. I have some news. Some very good news. Call me when you get this. I can’t wait to talk to you.”

She ended the call and sat there another moment, uneasiness settling in her stomach. Where was he? And why, on the day she finally had the answer he’d been waiting for, was he nowhere to be found?

Unsure what to do next, she decided to call Harold. “How would you feel about showing me the old dance hall building?”

“I’d be delighted. Meet me in an hour?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Does this mean they said yes?” Harold asked.

“It does. Can you believe it?”

“Some things are meant to be.”

Mia stood on the sidewalk in front of the old dance hall waiting for Harold.

The Sugarville Grove Social Hall stood proudly on a gentle rise just off the town square, its freshly painted white clapboard siding gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The wide wraparound porch had been reinforced and repainted, with dark green shutters and hanging flower baskets filled with evergreen clippings and red ribbons for the holidays.

The original wood sign—restored and sealed—hung from a black iron bracket above the double front doors, now repainted a deep cranberry red. The words Sugarville Grove Social Hall – Est. 1919 were stenciled in gold leaf, lovingly reapplied by a local artist.

Tall windows stretched along the sides, letting in floods of natural light. Wreaths hung in each one, framed by crisp white trim. A new ramp had been added beside the steps, thoughtfully blending accessibility with aesthetics.

Though the hall no longer echoed with the sound of big band music and dancing feet, it looked ready to come alive again.

She glanced over her shoulder as Kris, Reese, Thelma, and Harold approached, bundled in coats and scarves.

“What are you all doing here?” Mia asked, delighted to see her friends.

“Harold called us to tell us the good news and we kind of invited ourselves,” Reese said.

“I’m so glad,” Mia said, hugging her and then Thelma. “You’re all such good friends.”

“We feel part of it,” Thelma said. “Even though it’s really yours.”

“You are a part of it,” Mia said. “I would never have had the courage to pitch him the idea without your support.”

“That’s what nosy friends are for,” Kris said.

“Let’s go in,” Harold said, fishing a key from his coat pocket.

He unlocked the heavy door and pushed it open. Cold air greeted them, followed by the faint scent of aged wood and time.

They stepped inside, their footsteps echoing across the worn wooden floor. The space was empty, save for a few leftover chairs stacked near the stage. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight streaming through tall windows. It felt quiet, sacred.

Mia took a slow turn in the center of the room. “Oh, guys, this place is perfect. Reese, you were so clever to think of it.”

“It just kind of popped in my head,” Reese said.

“That’s how it happens when a thing is just right,” Harold said.

Reese turned a slow circle. “Oh, I love it already. Can you imagine the tables set up along here?” She gestured toward the row of windows. “And twinkle lights across the beams?”

Mia nodded, heart lifting. “It used to be where the town came to celebrate. What if it could be that again? Great food. Live music. Maybe even a dance floor for Friday nights. People need somewhere to gather. Somewhere that feels special. Not just a place to eat—but a place to live a little.”

“And a place to make memories.” Thelma walked toward the back corner, fingers brushing the wood-paneled wall.

“I danced here when I was sixteen. Wore a red velvet mini dress and white go-go boots. My Henry wore a ruffled shirt and a too-big navy blazer he borrowed from his brother. The music was The Carpenters, maybe a little Marvin Gaye. The whole town came out for the Harvest Ball that year.”

“I wish I could see you in those boots,” Reese said.

“I looked good.” Thelma smiled wickedly. “Although, I had to change clothes before I went home. My father would never have let me out of the house in that short skirt.”

Harold chuckled. “This reminds me of the night Ruby caught me sneaking out with my best friend to have a quick swig from his flask. She was so mad at me, it took her an hour to agree to dance with me. Place was packed so tight we barely had room to swing our arms.”

Kris chuckled. “For me, I was six. I remember holding my dad’s hand and staring up at all the lights. The floor was slick as glass, and I kept slipping in my church shoes. I think I spilled half a cup of punch down my front trying to copy the older kids dancing.”

Reese’s eyes softened as she looked around the space.

“I took my first ballet class right over there. I was just five years old. Mrs. Donna taught us basic steps on Saturday mornings—plié, tendu, all that. Nothing fancy, but it was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere. She told my mama I had real talent. That’s how I ended up going to the academy later. ”

“There was a time when this place was the beating heart of Sugarville Grove,” Thelma said, a little misty-eyed. “I’d love to see it come alive again.”

“I will make it come alive,” Mia said. “And I’ll fill it with food and music and joy. Just like it used to be.”

Reese crossed the floor and wrapped her arm around Mia’s shoulder. “We’re proud of you, Mia. This place is going to shine with your spirit in it.”

“And we’ll be your first reservation,” Kris said. “The whole class here to support you.”

Harold gave her a warm nod. “This is going to be a huge success.”

“We’ll help too,” Thelma said. “Not necessarily in the kitchen, mind you, but with whatever else you need.”

“I would love that.” Mia looked around at the faces that had come to mean so much to her—this mismatched, wonderful crew who had shown up for her in every way that mattered.

She didn’t need to move to Manhattan to chase a dream.

She was standing in the middle of it. “Thank you for believing in me. And for listening and offering such good advice. This is happening because each one of you cared enough to help me when I really needed it. I can’t thank you enough. ”

“This class has changed my life,” Reese said, tearing up. “I have felt supported and cared for by all of you.”

They stood in a quiet circle for a long moment, the dust-filled light catching in their smiles.

And in that stillness, Mia imagined the laughter, the dancing, the celebrations that would occur in this room.

This was right. She could feel it deep in her bones.

This was the place she was meant to open.

If only she could feel assured that the man she loved would be by her side, that she hadn’t already truly ruined what they’d had. Maybe she had. Maybe it was too late.

“I wish Logan was here,” Mia said, fighting tears. “But I haven’t heard from him. I think I’ve driven him away. I just hope he’ll be willing to talk soon.”

“Don’t you worry,” Kris said. “I have a feeling he’s going to surprise you.”