Page 9 of Savoring Christmas (Sugarville Grove #8)

MIA

O n Thursday night, everything was set—the eggs lined up in a neat row, rolling pins and food processors at every station. Mia’s pasta machine waited at one end of the counter. Tonight, she’d brought Cannoli. Currently, she was curled up in her portable bed fast asleep.

Mia told herself she wasn’t nervous this time.

That was mostly true. The first class, she’d been worried about everything—her teaching, her instructions, talking in front of people.

Tonight, it wasn’t the sauce or the pasta she was thinking about.

It was, darn it all, Logan Hayes. She’d thought of little else since the morning before, when they’d met at his parents’ house.

She couldn’t quite explain what had happened to her, sitting in Grace and Walter’s cozy kitchen, but she had a feeling she might never be the same.

The moment had been swift and unexpected and had softened her heart in a way she didn’t think she was capable of any longer.

She could still hear his voice when he’d said, I’m covering the expenses for it.

Whatever the kids want. And we’ll get them stocked up on groceries for holiday meals.

It had been such a generous thing to say—and to offer a family he didn’t even know—that it had nearly brought her to tears. If only there had been a Logan Hayes when she and her sister had been children.

She’d practically given up on humanity after she’d been bilked out of every dime she had and her precious restaurant.

There were no more good people in the world, she’d decided.

It was best to accept that and just move on with her life, trusting no one ever again.

But this Hayes family? They were something else.

Good and generous and kind. They made her want to be a better person, less bitter and suspicious and more open and giving.

And Logan Hayes was much too good looking to be such a fine person. He could have floated through life on his looks and wit, taking whatever he wanted from whomever he wanted. He most certainly didn’t have to care about a single mom and her three little children.

Okay, she must get herself together before everyone arrived.

She shook her head, smoothing her apron.

Would he be first to arrive? She really hoped so.

Any stolen moment with him seemed life giving.

He’d been the last person she expected to offer to walk her to her car.

Or texted her when he got home. Or invited her out to his family’s home.

But nothing could distract her from her mission. She was here to teach, yes, but also to give a part of herself to the sweet souls who had wandered into the kitchen that first night. It hadn't taken long for her to realize this class meant far more than food to each of her students.

Take Reese. She was working to make peace with food, learning to see it as nourishment rather than an enemy to battle.

Though Mia didn't know the specifics, she suspected Reese's eating disorder had reached a breaking point.

Whatever had driven her here, whether therapy, sheer determination, or simply the desire to heal, it had taken tremendous courage to enter an environment that was bound to be triggering and difficult to face. That bravery inspired Mia deeply.

Abby's goal to become a better cook for her unexpected family had touched Mia deeply. It was such a simple thing, expressing love through delicious food, yet profoundly meaningful too.

Then there were Thelma and Harold, both navigating holidays alone. How terrifying and disorienting it must be to lose a spouse after a long, happy marriage. Yet here they were, trying something new, putting themselves out there and hoping for connection. Much like Mia herself.

Kris, with his mischievous grin, was determined to give his wife a special gift that required time and practice.

Mia had no doubt his wife would be thrilled with something so personal.

In fact, watching his dedication had led Mia into unexpected territory.

Did she want a partner to share life and pasta with?

For the first time in ages, she thought she might.

And Logan? Yes, he'd come because of a bet, but he'd already transformed it into something far more important: helping a family in need. God bless him.

The door creaked open, and the first of her students filed in, voices warm in the cold room.

Thelma arrived, cheeks pink and wearing a becoming shade of blue that matched her eyes. Right behind her was Harold Jensen, holding the door for her.

“Thank you, Harold,” Thelma said.

“My pleasure, my lady,” Harold said, making Thelma giggle, much like a school girl. Way too cute.

Cannoli trotted over to greet them, tail wagging softly until they each gave her a scratch behind the ears.

Reese Monroe slipped in next, bundled in a cozy sweater that seemed much too big for her small frame. She brought a poinsettia with her, which she shyly offered to Mia. “Just to say thanks for doing this. It means more than I can say.”

Mia surprised herself by offering Reese a hug. “Thanks for being here. I hope it helps.”

“It will. It has to,” Reese said.

The way she said it made Mia’s stomach clench. Whatever this woman was going through, it felt like life and death. Maybe it was.

Cannoli sat on her haunches, looking at Reese’s feet until the woman noticed her. “Oh, who have we here?” Reese asked, kneeling to pet Cannoli.

“This is my dog. Cannoli. She doesn’t like to stay at home without me, so I brought her,” Mia said. “I hope no one will mind.”

“I can’t imagine anyone would. She’s so cute.” Reese gave her one more stroke before standing and heading toward her station.

Abby and Kris arrived next, chatting about how they’d seen Cash Law in town that afternoon. Mia didn’t know much about music, but apparently he was a big rock star.

Kris pulled two bottles of wine from his backpack. “I thought we might have a little spirit to go with our pasta tonight?”

“What a splendid idea,” Mia said. “Thank you.”

What a difference it was from Tuesday. The group greeted each other like old friends now, chattering away about their days and attempts at making the sauce they’d learned to make in the previous class.

Cannoli moved between them all, making a slow loop to greet each one of them and receiving pets as a reward.

Logan was the last to arrive. Cannoli’s ears perked when he came in, her tail swishing as though she too had been waiting for him.

A little snow dusted his wool jacket. His gaze found hers almost immediately.

For a moment, they smiled at each other and, to Mia, everything else faded away, before he shrugged out of his coat.

She told herself it didn’t mean anything.

“Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” Logan said to Mia. “I got stuck at work.”

“Is everything okay?” Mia asked.

“Just a difficult case,” Logan said. “It’s never easy watching a family fall apart. I’d rather be the kind of lawyer that put them back together, but family law is never that.”

“I’m sorry you had a hard day,” Mia said. “But I’m glad you made it.”

“I’ve been looking forward to it,” Logan said. “And thank you.”

Reluctantly, she turned away and let him find his station.

Then, she cleared her throat. “All right, everyone, let’s get started. Tonight, we’re making fresh pasta. It’s simple—just flour, eggs, and a little patience. We’re going to pair it with a lemon butter sauce, which we’ll also go over.”

She demonstrated making a well in the mound of flour, cracking the eggs into the center, whisking them slowly, then pulling the flour in until it came together into a soft dough.

“Pasta dough is like people,” Mia said. “It behaves better if you treat it gently, but it also likes attention.”

Across the room, Kris said, “Just like my wife.”

Everyone laughed before Mia continued. “Flour your work surface. Knead until the dough is smooth and elastic.”

Around the room, everyone dug into the assignment.

Thelma’s dough stuck to her counter. Harold quietly passed her his cup of flour. “Have some of mine.”

“Thank you, Harold,” Thelma said.

“Glad to be of service,” he said, his voice warm.

Reese hesitated at her station, eggs still untouched.

“What’s happening here?” Mia asked gently.

“Touching the eggs feels weird to me,” Reese said.

“Would you like some gloves?” Mia asked.

“Yes, please. That would make it much better.” Reese gave her a tentative smile. “I’m sorry to be the problem student.”

“You’re not at all,” Mia said, grabbing a pair of disposable gloves from her things. “I often wear them myself.”

She wandered over to Abby’s station next. Her dough was also sticky. “Add more flour until you get it to the right consistency,” Mia said. “Don’t worry, dough is impossible to break. The more you fiddle with it, the more it responds.”

“My wife’s probably going to want to renew our vows after I make her this,” Kris said.

Mia made her way to Logan’s station. Oddly enough, his looked perfect. It was already starting to become elastic. No wonder. He was strong and his hands were large, making kneading easy. Such nice hands.

“Well done,” Mia said. “It’s just as it should be.”

“Really?” Logan grinned. “That makes me ridiculously happy.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I’m glad.”

Once the doughs were kneaded, they all wrapped them up to let them rest for thirty minutes. Mia used that time to show them how to roll it out with her previously rested dough and cut it into strips.

“That looks really hard,” Reese said. “How did you get them so even?”

“Just practice?” Mia said. “But they don’t have to be perfect. And neither do you.”

“Isn’t that a relief?” Reese said. “If I’d only known that sooner in my life.”

“You’re not the only one,” Thelma said. “That’s the only thing that’s good about getting old. You don’t care as much about being perfect. Instead, you’re just happy to have another day to be your messy, flawed self.”