Page 19 of Savoring Christmas
“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—justflour, 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.”
