Page 27 of Fall Surprises
She finally pulled away, straightened her shoulders, slipped back into professional mode. "How long until you're ready to serve?"
"Twenty minutes."
"Perfect. I'll stall them with cocktails." She paused at the door, glanced back. "Thank you. For the wine. And for listening."
"Anytime."
After she left, I stared at the closed door for a long moment before forcing myself back to work.
Jake and Molly moved efficiently through their tasks, plating the salads while I seared the duck. The kitchen filled with the rich scent of meat and butter, the sweet-tart aroma of the berries.
But my mind kept drifting to Sam in that garden, trying to hold everything together while the wedding party spiraled around her. To the way she'd looked at me just now, like I was her anchor in the storm.
DINNER SERVICE WENTsmoother than the rehearsal, which wasn't saying much.
I plated each course with extra care, knowing that the TV cameras would catch every detail. The duck came out perfectly—crisp-skinned, medium-rare, the huckleberry sauce adding a sweet-tart punch that balanced the rich meat. The roasted vegetables glistened with butter and herbs. The apple tarts emerged from the oven golden and fragrant, the cinnamon ice cream a creamy contrast to the warm fruit.
Between courses, I found reasons to step into the dining room. Supposedly checking on service, making sure everyone had what they needed. Really just wanting to see Sam in action.
She moved through the space like a dancer, managing personalities with grace and firmness. Redirecting Raven's attention when she started complaining about portion sizes. Cutting Blaze off when he tried to order another whiskey. Comforting Stormi with quiet words and gentle touches.
Before dessert, she stood to give a toast.
"I've had the privilege of planning many weddings," she began, her voice clear and warm. "But what I've learned—what I'm still learning—is that love isn't about perfect moments or flawless execution. It's about a willingness to grow. About allowing someone else to expand your heart, to challenge your assumptions, to make you want to be better than you were yesterday."
Her eyes found mine across the room. Heat crawled up my neck. She was talking about us—about apple orchards and pumpkin patches and letting someone past your defenses even when every logical reason said not to.
"Love asks us to be vulnerable," she continued. "To trust. To change. And that's terrifying. But it's also the most beautiful thing we can do—open ourselves to someone else and say, 'Here I am. All of me. The messy parts and the polished parts. Will you have me?'"
The room went silent except for Stormi's quiet sobs. Even Raven had set down her phone, appearing almost moved.
"So here's to Raven and Blaze," Sam raised her glass. "May your marriage be filled with growth and grace, with laughter and forgiveness, with the courage to change and the wisdom to love each other through it all."
Everyone drank. Blaze stumbled through a slurred response about his "hot bride." Jett made an off-color joke that had Raven giggling.
But I couldn't stop staring at Sam.
Every word had landed like an arrow in my chest.The courage to change.I'd come to Wintervale to hide, to lick my wounds, to avoid risking my heart again. Trevor's betrayal had taught me not to trust—not business partners, not friends, not women who only wanted to be with a chef on the rise.
And here she was, this infuriating, beautiful woman who'd crashed into my kitchen and my life, practically asking if I was brave enough to try.
The answer was terrifying in its simplicity: yes.
After dinner, the wedding party scattered—some to the bar Cass had set up in the parlor, others to their rooms. Diana cornered Sam about tomorrow's timeline while I directed cleanup, my mind only half on the task.
By eleven, the kitchen was spotless. Jake and Molly had gone home. The inn had gone quiet.
I should have gone to bed. Tomorrow would be a whirlwind from dawn to midnight.
Instead, I pulled out the wedding cake components and got to work.
The cake itself was already baked and leveled—three tiers of devil's food cake with cherry filling, Raven's choice for the Halloween theme. But it needed assembly, crumb coating, final frosting, and decoration. Raven had requested black sugar roses with gold-dusted edges—intricate, time-consuming, requiring a delicate touch and steady hand.
I'd made hundreds of sugar flowers in culinary school, working late into the night to perfect the technique. Gum paste petals so thin they were nearly translucent, painted with black gel food coloring to achieve that deep, dramatic hue, then brushed with edible gold dust at the edges. Roses in varying sizes, each one taking fifteen to twenty minutes to shape and dry before the gold could be applied.
At midnight, I was deep in concentration, carefully dusting gold along the edge of a black rose petal, when I heard footsteps on the stairs.
Sam appeared in the doorway wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, hair loose around her shoulders, face scrubbed clean of makeup.
