Page 5 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

Logan, deadpan, pulled his notebook from his pocket. “How do you spell that?”

Mia arched a brow, smiling at his eagerness to get everything “right.” The attitude reminded her of herself. “Here, give me your book. I’ll write it down for you.”

Their fingers brushed as he handed her the notepad, which sent a little shiver through her. Strange. She would think about that later.

Mia attempted to demonstrate how to cut them into ribbons but Logan’s knife needed sharpening. “No wonder you couldn’t get yours into ribbons. You can’t get a clean cut with something this dull. We need to take care of that first.”

She glanced toward the rest of the class.

“Actually, guys, let’s talk about your knives.

” Setting Logan’s knife down, she crossed to the counter to retrieve her honing steel.

“Before you can slice basil—or anything—properly, you need to make sure your knife’s sharp.

A dull knife’s more dangerous than a sharp one.

It slips. It tears. It makes you curse under your breath.

And it can really cut you if you’re not careful.

I’ll show you the best way to sharpen with Logan’s knife here.

” She demonstrated a smooth, practiced motion, the blade whispering against the steel.

“You don’t need to go fast. It’s not about speed, it’s about control. Think smooth, even strokes.”

Abby and Reese leaned closer.

Harold murmured, “My late wife was always asking me to sharpen her knives. I’ve been doing it wrong all these years. She’s probably rolling her eyes if she’s watching from heaven.”

“Most people do it incorrectly.” Mia handed Logan his now-honed knife. “Only because they haven’t seen it demonstrated properly. Here, try again. This time, roll the basil into a bundle—gentle pressure, let the blade do the work.”

Logan followed her instructions, the knife slicing cleanly through the leaves.

“Well done.” Mia plucked up one of the perfect green ribbons and held it up. “See? Ribbons. Not confetti.”

Logan’s mouth curved upward into a smile that made him look like a little boy. “That was oddly satisfying.”

“Does everyone want to take a turn sharpening your knives?” Mia asked. “I should have started class with that. I’m learning as I go, so forgive me.”

“No problem, teach,” Kris said. “This is all for fun anyway, right?”

“I’m glad you’re all having fun,” Mia said. “That makes me happy.”

It was true too. She was having fun and learning more about how to teach at the same time. This was exactly how she’d hoped it would be. Community. Cooking. Shared experiences. Maybe Remi had been right. This was good for her.

“All right, guys, I’m going to put the water on for pasta so we can enjoy your sauces. We’ll go over how to make fresh pasta on Thursday but I’ll use dry for tonight. I brought some of my focaccia bread to share as well.”

“Fortunately, Cannoli isn’t here,” Abby said, laughing.

“She would be a total menace,” Mia said.

Everyone took turns sharpening their knives as the room filled with the rich aromas of the sauces simmering.

After Mia had her spaghetti noodles cooking in the pot of boiling water, she noticed three small faces, pressed close to the window that led to the cafeteria, noses practically against the glass.

They were hungry. That much was obvious.

“Hey, guys,” Mia said to her students. “I see a few little ones out there who look like they would love a plate of spaghetti. Should we invite them in after we’re finished?”

“What if I poison them?” Logan asked.

Mia shook her head, chuckling. “No one’s getting poisoned on my watch.”

When the noodles were done, she drained them into a strainer in one of the industrial sized sinks and instructed her class to come get some to add to their sauce. “I’m going to invite the kids in.”

She walked out to the cafeteria to find the children. They must have heard her coming because they were looking a little too innocent sitting at one of the tables.

“Hi there,” Mia said. “You guys hungry? We have spaghetti.”

Before they could answer, their mother entered the room, clearly finished for the evening as she had on her coat. Mia repeated her offer. “Hi again. I’m Mia. We have a ton of food. Would you and the kids like to eat with us?”

“We shouldn’t intrude.”

“Nonsense. We have more than enough,” Mia said. “I’m Italian. So no one goes home hungry.”

“Please, Mom?” the oldest of them asked.

“Yes, I suppose it would be all right.” The woman turned back to Mia.

“I’m Patty McDonald. And these are my children.

” She introduced the oldest, a girl, as Molly, who appeared to be around ten.

The middle child was a boy named Benji. The smallest was Daisy, who promptly told Mia that she was five and went to kindergarten.

“It’s great to meet you all,” Mia said. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

The children needed no convincing. They slipped into the kitchen like shy kittens, eyes wide and hopeful. Mia fixed them each a small plate of pasta, the rich tomato sauce glossy under the fluorescent lights. Reese quietly helped distribute forks, her movements gentle and unhurried.

Logan brought over napkins, crouching to pass them to the youngest. When the little girl smiled up at him, he winked at her. This was a man from a large family. Nothing about this would bother him. For some odd reason, that made Mia’s chest warm.

Once everyone had their plates filled, Mia led the way into the cafeteria where they settled into one big table. Like a family. “Cooking’s only half the joy. Sharing is the other half. Sit. Eat. Tell me what you think.”

They settled in—Abby beside Reese, Thelma and Harold next to each other at one end, Kris across from them, Patty and her children grouped near Mia.

Logan slid into the chair across from her, looking way too large at the low table.

And way too handsome. Mia found herself thinking of Cannoli, how her dog would have been under this table hoping for scraps if she were here.

Maybe she would bring her next time. Cannoli was not used to evenings alone.

The kids dug in first, their quiet exclamations of “Mmm” making everyone smile.

Daisy twirled her spaghetti with serious concentration, sauce dotting her cheek.

Benji devoured his in three enormous bites before Mia slid him a second helping.

Molly ate more slowly, her eyes darting around the table as though she wasn’t sure if seconds were allowed.

“They’re wonderful eaters,” Reese said. “My sister’s kids are super picky.”

Patty gave an embarrassed little shrug. “They’re just hungry. We don’t—” She stopped herself, but the unfinished sentence hung in the air.

“This wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” Abby said quickly, perhaps to save them all from an awkward moment. “I think I could make this for my family.”

Thelma dabbed her mouth. “I might actually make this for myself at home. Maybe a whole batch I could eat several nights in a row.”

“Yes, and you can choose whatever kind of pasta you like,” Mia said. “Or even make a pizza or a meatball sandwich.”

Harold nodded. “I was thinking the same thing, Thelma. But maybe we should have dinner together sometime? Less leftovers.”

“Oh, well, that would be lovely.” Thelma’s cheeks flushed pink. “It would be nice to sit down with someone instead of watching television by myself.”

“Exactly,” Harold said.

“I cannot wait to surprise my wife,” Kris said. “She’s going to think an alien’s taken over my body.”

Laughter rippled around the table.

As they ate, Mia found herself relaxing more than she had in months. The hum of conversation, the warmth of people enjoying food together reminded her of the joy she’d felt every night she ate with her staff before the restaurant opened.

Across the table, Logan had his head bent, listening to Daisy tell him about her Christmas wish list. “We all want a puppy, but Mom says pets are too expensive.”

“They can be,” Logan said.

“That’s the truth,” Mia said, exchanging a humorous glance with Abby.

Daisy looked up at Logan with adoring eyes as he passed her another napkin.

“You’ve got sauce on your nose, little one,” Logan said.

“I was just so hungry, I gobbled it down,” Daisy said.

Mia caught the exchange, her chest tightening. Patty must be having trouble keeping her children fed. Another reason the food bank was so important. She would double down on her efforts this year. No child should be hungry. Ever.

Patty caught Mia’s gaze. “Thank you for feeding us. I didn’t expect this when I came to mop floors tonight.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Mia said. “There’s always a seat at this table.”

Patty’s eyes misted, but she nodded, before turning back to Benji to instruct him to use his napkin.

Mia glanced over at Logan, and she could see in his eyes that he understood exactly what was going on with Patty and her children.

Mia felt a sudden kinship with him, especially when he said, “You know, we’re here every Tuesday and Thursday nights all month, Patty.

You should bring the kids on Thursday too.

It’ll give us even more incentive to do our best.”

“Yes, yes,” Abby said quickly. “It’s good practice for me and my family. I have kids about your same ages.”

“You do?” Daisy wrinkled her nose. “Do I know them?”

Abby told her about her children and their ages. Benji said he knew Jack from school. “He’s plays baseball. On a team. And they wear the coolest jerseys. I want to play too but I can’t because?—.”

His mother cut him off. “Never mind about that.”

Benji looked down at his plate, the tips of his ears turning pink.

Daisy wanted a puppy. Benji wanted to play baseball. What did Molly want for Christmas? She wished she could give them all what they wanted. She remembered the lean Christmases of her childhood. Her single mother had had a hard time keeping them fed, let alone buying gifts.

When the last noodles were twirled and the final bits of sauce gone, Mia stood. “Thank you all for coming tonight. Thursday we’ll make fresh pasta. You’ve all done very well tonight. I’m proud of you.”

They all thanked her as they headed back to the kitchen, helping to scrub plates and load the dishwasher, everyone talking and laughing together.

Perhaps Mia had forgotten her own philosophy about food over the years but tonight she was reminded. It was truly about love.