Page 31 of Holidate Scramble
She handed me the microphone and the small trophy—a silver whisk mounted on a wooden base. I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of all eyes on me.
"The winner of this year's competition, with exceptional flavors and impeccable technique, is... Walter Mackenzie, with his rosemary shortbread and orange cardamom stars!"
The elderly man's jaw dropped in genuine shock, his bow tie tilting askew as he made his way forward. Henrietta chose that moment to strut across the room, pausing at his feet in what everyone seemed to interpret as avian endorsement.
"Even Henrietta approves," I added, drawing laughter from the crowd.
Walter accepted the trophy with trembling hands. "I never thought—" He turned to my mother. "This one's for you, dear Ginny. Your encouragement made me finally enter."
My mother beamed, her eyes bright with recognition and joy. "Well deserved, Walt. Well deserved."
As the celebration continued, I found myself seeking Piper through the crowd. She moved with purpose—shaking hands, accepting congratulations, her face glowing with success. When our eyes met across the room, my chest tightened with an emotion I wasn't quite ready to name but was becoming increasingly difficult to deny.
Eventually, the crowd began to thin. Lenora touched my elbow to let me know she'd be taking my mother home for a rest before the evening's hospital gala, which she would be attending for a short while as a special guest of the Alzheimer's Foundation.
"It's been a good day," Lenora said, her voice warm with genuine care. "One of the best in a while. Being around her friends—they reach her in ways medication can't."
"Thank you," I told her, meaning it deeply. "For everything you do for her."
"It's my pleasure, Dr. Thornton. Your mother is a remarkable woman. I see where you get your strength."
After saying goodbye to my mother with a promise to see her at the gala, I found Piper at the counter, reviewing her checklist with Maisie.
"Everything's set for tomorrow's brunch," Maisie was saying. "Logan and I will handle the setup tonight after we close."
"You're sure? I can come early to help—"
"Absolutely not," Maisie cut her off with a firm head shake. "You've been running yourself ragged for weeks. Take the night off, enjoy the gala, and we'll see you tomorrow."
"But—"
"No buts. Doctor's orders." Maisie shot me a conspiratorial glance. "Right, Dr. Thornton?"
"Definitely," I agreed, laying a hand lightly on Piper's shoulder. "The patient needs rest."
Piper rolled her eyes at both of us. "Fine. But call if anything comes up."
"Nothing will come up," Maisie assured her, making shooing motions. "Now go get ready for your fancy gala. Both of you."
Outside in the crisp December air, Piper exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping as tension visibly left her body. "We did it. The last major event before tomorrow's Christmas Day brunch."
"You did it," I corrected, guiding her toward my car. "Twenty thousand dollars, Piper. That's extraordinary."
She ducked her head, but not before I caught her smile. "It's more than I hoped for. The foundation is thrilled."
"As they should be." I opened the passenger door for her. "Where to? Your apartment?"
"Yes, please. I need to get ready for tonight." She settled into the seat, looking up at me. "Five o'clock pickup still work for you?"
"Perfect." I leaned down, unable to resist kissing her quickly. "Wear something that won't make me forget how to speak when I see you."
"Where's the fun in that?" she teased, her eyes dancing with mischief.
The drive to her apartment was filled with comfortable conversation—reviewing the competition, discussing the gala ahead, planning for tomorrow's celebration. When I pulled up in front of her building, I wanted nothing more than to follow her upstairs, but we both knew there wasn't time.
"Five o'clock," I reminded her.
"I'll be ready." She kissed me once more before hopping out. "And Rhett? Thank you for today. For all of it."
