Page 53 of Savoring Christmas
He took both her hands in his, looking into her eyes. “I’m so happy. You’ve made me so happy.”
“You’ve made me happy too.”
He gave her another kiss before heading upstairs. The kitchen felt lonely without him, though the warmth of his visit lingered. She was about to start cleaning up for the night when her phone rang. Probably Logan calling from upstairs with a question about Cannoli. But the number was unfamiliar, with a Manhattan area code.
“Hello, this is Mia.”
“Mia Bianchi?” The voice was smooth, confident, the kind that belonged on the upper floors of glass-and-steel skyscrapers. “This is Daniel Carmichael, CEO of Carmichael Hospitality. We own and operate a portfolio of restaurants in New York City.”
Her brows drew together and her heart started pounding. “I’m familiar with your company. How can I help you?” Why was he calling so late?
“I’m one of your biggest fans. Before your restaurant closed, I was there once a month.”
“Oh, well thank you,” Mia said.
“I hear you’re in Vermont now, running a small Italian place?”
“That’s right.”
“My company is looking to open a new restaurant with an Italian concept in Manhattan next spring—a flagship location. Fully backed by our company, with creative control in the right hands. And we think those hands should be yours.”
Mia blinked, her grip tightening on the phone. “Me?”
“The salary’s competitive,” Daniel continued smoothly, “and we’re prepared to provide every resource you’d need. You’d be back in the spotlight where you belong, with a kitchen worthy of your talent.”
The hum of the quiet kitchen seemed louder somehow, and her throat felt suddenly dry. “I don’t know what to say.”
“We’d love to set up a time to discuss details,” Daniel said. “Of course, we understand it’s a big decision. But I believe it’ll be a great move for you.”
“Sure, yes. I’d like to hear more.”
“Excellent. We’re excited to share our vision with you.”
“Just so you know, I’m happy where I am,” she said as he clicked off. That wordhappyagain. She was happy, right?
Her gaze drifted to the worn wooden recipe box on the shelf above her station, the one her father had given her. She felt a bit like that box with its old recipes stuffed inside it these days—more sentiment than ambition.
The back door opened again, letting in a gust of cold air and the sound of Cannoli’s tags jingling. Logan stepped inside, the little dog wriggling happily in his arms.
He smiled when he saw her. “She’s all set.” His smile faltered. “What’s wrong?”
Mia took in a deep breath. “You won’t believe it. I just got a job offer. In New York.”
11
LOGAN
The evening of the ugly sweater party, Logan pulled up in front of Mia's cabin, headlights sweeping over the snow-laden pines. He'd been unable to think of much else all day except Mia's announcement the night before. By now, she would have met with them. He had a sinking feeling the job would be perfect for her—a second chance at the career she loved. The thought of her leaving made his stomach clench. It was his own fault, falling too fast and too hard for a woman who clearly had no ties to this community. She would go without looking back, leaving him with nothing but a broken heart.
It felt as if he had cement in his shoes as he trudged to the door and knocked. Cannoli barked once from inside before the door opened and Mia stepped out, wearing a sweater with Santa in a tall chef’s hat, holding a tray of cookies shaped like Christmas trees and snowflakes.
Of course she looked adorable in it. “You look great,” he said.
“Cannoli’s not happy she doesn’t get to go,” Mia said.
“Poor little girl,” Logan said.
She laughed at the sight of his sweater. “That’s quite something.”
