Page 2 of The Sweet Chef and the Corporate Queen

"We’re going to join the morning yoga session," I tell Mia.

"But I hate yoga," she protests. "It's boring."

"It's mindfulness training. And it's only for an hour."

Thirty minutes later, we're walking through the crisp mountain air toward the garden terrace where the yoga session is set up. The lodge is admittedly beautiful, with its rustic wooden architecture and stunning views of the Appalachian mountains.

"Why can't I just stay in our room and watch TV?" Mia drags her feet.

"Because you're seven, and I'm not leaving you alone in a hotel room."

"Claire lets me watch morning cartoons sometimes."

"Well, Claire isn't here right now."

"I know." Mia skips ahead. "And we get to spend the whole day together!"

Before I can respond, I spot Andrea, my VP of Marketing, already on her yoga mat.

"Jules! And little Mia!" Andrea waves. "Joining us for some mountain zen?"

"Our nanny had a family emergency," I explain briefly. "Mia's getting the full executive experience today."

The yoga instructor, a serene-looking woman with impossibly flexible limbs, begins leading the group through breathing exercises.

While Mia halfheartedly follows along, I discreetly check my emails. Three messages from potential investors about our upcoming funding round. A draft of the quarterly report that needs my review before it goes to the board. And a chipper update from Zoe:Found 2 potential nannies! But both need background checks.

"Ms. Sinclair?" The yoga instructor's gentle voice breaks into my thoughts. "We're focusing on staying present in our bodies right now, not on our devices."

I glance up to find the entire class watching me. Wonderful.

"Of course," I say smoothly, tucking my phone away.

Next to me, Mia giggles, clearly enjoying my moment of embarrassment.

By the time the hour ends, my back is sore, my mind is still racing, and Mia has spent more time watching squirrels in the nearby trees than following any of the poses.

My phone buzzes with a calendar alert. The executive strategy session starts in twenty minutes, and I still haven't resolved the Mia situation.

"Jules Sinclair?" An unfamiliar voice calls from across the terrace. I turn to see an older woman approaching, her silver hair framing a face lined with laugh lines.

"Yes?"

"I'm Evelyn Callahan. I own Mountain Laurel Lodge. I wanted to personally welcome you and your team to our property."

"Thank you," I say, automatically shifting into client-relations mode. "Your staff has been excellent."

Her gaze shifts to Mia, who's now balancing on one foot, pretending to be a flamingo. "And who might this be?"

"My daughter, Mia. Say hello to Ms. Callahan, Mia."

"Hello," Mia chirps. "Your lodge has a lot of squirrels."

Evelyn laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "It certainly does. They're quite the troublemakers." She turns back to me. "I understand your group has the Pine Room booked for your strategy session this morning?"

"That's right." I check my watch again. Eighteen minutes.

"And will Mia be joining you?" There's no judgment in her tone, just curiosity.

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