Page 68 of Savoring Christmas
The kitchen was burstingwith color, scent, and laughter. The room smelled like every good memory she’d made in Sugarville Grove. Remi had taken it upon himself to organize the potluck, transforming every available surface into a feast of long platters, steaming casseroles, and bowls brimming with salads and breads. But it was the familiar dishes that nearly moved her to tears. Her students had recreated the recipes she'd taught them in class.
Mia stopped short, blinking at the spread. “You all made the dishes?”
Abby beamed. “Yes, we each chose one to bring.”
“I made the pasta with lemon and butter,” Harold said. “And I think it turned out quite well.”
“I conquered that darn gnocchi,” Thelma said. “But it took me a few tries.”
Front and center was Harold’s Fresh Pasta with Lemon Butter White Wine Sauce, the ribbons of tagliatelle glistening under a dusting of Parmesan. Next to it, Thelma’s Homemade Potato Gnocchi with Brown Butter Sage Sauce, the tender little pillows nestled in a golden pool of butter, flecked with crisp sage leaves.
“I did the risotto,” Reese said.
“I made the chicken, which was nearly impossible to rescue from my hungry husband,” Abby said.
“It was a great sacrifice,” Luke said.
“I appreciate it,” Mia said. “Kris, you must have made the cookies then?”
“That’s right. But I’ve been making the other dishes for the missus, here, isn’t that right, my love?” Kris asked, his arm around his wife, Maria.
“Mia, I can’t thank you enough,” Maria said. “He’s been spoiling me rotten.”
“It was time,” Kris said.
The sight—and the thought of each student working so hard on something they'd learned from her—made Mia's heart swell. These weren’t just dishes. They were proof of friendships, of lessons shared, of evenings filled with people truly sharing parts of themselves with the others.
Everyone lined up, plates in hand. Logan hovered beside her, piling a plate for her before even thinking about his own.
When she turned to thank him, she found Grace and Walter standing nearby. Grace’s eyes were bright, her hand clasped in Walter’s.
“We wanted a moment before the night gets away from us,” Grace said, stepping forward to kiss Mia’s cheek. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart. I’ve prayed for a woman with your kindness and strength for Logan. You’re an answer to every single one.”
Walter cleared his throat, his voice gruff but steady. “I second that. You’ve brought a light to him I’ve never seen. We’re proud to call you ours.”
Mia’s heart swelled, and she reached for their hands, giving them a squeeze. “Thank you. You’ve all made me feel like I’ve been a Hayes my whole life.”
Logan slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close. “That’s because you were meant to be part of our family. She’s my wife, Mom. Can you believe it?”
“Some things seem to be too good to be true but are anyway,” Grace said.
As snow fell softly outside and warmth surrounded her from the food and music and people who had become family, Mia finally understood. Home wasn't something discovered on a map. It was voices raised in laughter, hands reaching for seconds, and hearts open wide enough to let her in.
17
MIA
Mia was plating the last of the dessert service when Logan burst through the double doors into her gleaming new kitchen at La Danza. Stainless steel counters stretched like mirrors under the bright LED lights, every surface reflecting the polished chrome of industrial mixers, the precision-arranged knife blocks, and the spotless glass doors of reach-in coolers humming their quiet rhythm. Copper pots hung above the wide marble prep island, positioned exactly where her hands knew to find them.
Logan’s arms swept around her waist. “Babe, it’s a huge success. Everyone’s raving about the food, and they all want you to come out.” He spun her around the kitchen as her newly hired staff glanced their way with amused smiles. They’d grown accustomed to Logan’s presence during the months of planning and training, but seeing their composed chef suddenly weightless and laughing was worth pausing their breakdown routine for.
Remi arrived carrying a tray of empty wine glasses and agreed that Mia should go out to address her “fans.” In his dark vest and crisp white shirt, he looked completely at home in hernew kitchen. She was so grateful for her faithful friend, who had followed her through everything to arrive at this moment. He’d been instrumental during the planning stages, helping her choose decor and refine the menu and wine list. Between Remi and Logan, she’d had unwavering support through every hiccup along the way.
Tonight wasn’t the official grand opening of La Danza—that would come next week—but, for this soft opening, Mia had invited the people who had made this dream possible.“Do I have to give a speech?” Mia asked.
“I’m afraid so. Or you’ll have mutiny on your hands,” Logan said.
“People want to celebrate you,” Remi said.
