“NOT when we have the biggest customer of our lives coming in with a table full of other, probably equally, famous people, ready to eat and rave about our food and share pictures of it on social and make up famous!”
Belle swatted him away with the holly. “Alright! Alright! I’ve got it. Go finalize the menu details with the kitchen. I’ll take care of this. You grouch.”
Sam disappeared through the swinging doors into the kitchen, leaving Belle to do her decorating in peace. She put out the fancy, slightly sparkly tablecloth they had gotten at the linen store, then she began designing a centerpiece made of simple snowy branches, a little bit of sparkle, and a huge white candle to anchor it. When it was finished, it looked like she felt: full of the Christmas spirit and yet just a little bit sad. She just hoped no one would notice. In spite of her mood, she was proud of the work she had done, and her heart felt just a little lighter as she straightened a sprig of glittering berries.
She finished getting the place settings ready for the first course, made sure everything was meticulously arranged, and then joined Sam in the kitchen, where he was frantically pacing back and forth, checking their prep. The kitchen staff was watching him suspiciously, like they always did, because he had a habit of screaming when he was stressed. He never yelled at anyone in particular; it was usually just a general freak-out directed at his own frustrations. Everyone looked to Belle as the buffer whenever Sam got in one of his moods and as she watched him getting ready to blow, she realized that if she left, there would be no one around to take care of that aspect of her job.
“Sam, honey… why don’t we step into the walk-in for a second and make sure the beet root looks good for that pear and feta salad?”
Sam spun around, finally noticing she’d walked into the kitchen, and while he looked annoyed at first, he took a deep breath and stalked into the refrigerator with Belle following close behind.
“So… where’s the blasted beet root?” Sam asked in a huff.
“Out by the prep station. I just needed you to cool off. You’re getting way too worked up and I thought this might do the trick to calm you back down.”
He rolled his eyes as he picked up a turnip and tossed it up and down. “I’m fine. I’m just getting nervous. How are you not nervous? Logan Gale is going to be here in a few hours and then who knows what will happen?”
“Exactly. Who knows? So, what’s the point of getting all worked up over it now?” Even as she said it, she realized that she would do well to take her own advice in other aspects of her life.
She felt like she had spent so much time worrying over things she couldn’t control, and over the last few days she felt like she had lost sight of everything that mattered. Only an hour earlier, she had been sitting on the floor, acting like her world was falling apart when really, she had no idea what was going on, nor had she decided how to handle any of the things that were stressing her out.
Maybe it was her turn to embrace the cool air of the walk-in and just breathe for a few minutes.
“Suddenly you’re full of wisdom and advice, huh? Alright, then. Since you’re so mellow all of the sudden, why don’t we go over the menu one more time before things get hectic?”
Belle reached out and squeezed Sam’s hand. “You do love talking about food, don’t you? Okay, the beet root salad first, pumpkin and ginger soup, spiced goose roast with broccolini and parsnip gratin, sage chestnut stuffed butternut squash for the vegans, and for dessert, a chocolate and hazelnut tarte, and a vegan strawberry rhubarb tarte.”
Sam visibly calmed at the mention of each dish, which almost made Belle laugh. Some people drank tea to calm down. Others meditated. Sam’s got his Zen from menu-planning.
“Okay, yeah, I think that’ll all be good. Do you think we can get everything finished in time?”
Annabelle shoved him toward the door. “Yes, if you stop wasting time. Get out there and make yourself useful. We ordered whole pumpkins for the soup, so I need you to use some elbow grease and start chopping.”
Sam looked horrified. “You want me to cut up a whole pumpkin?”
“Several. Come on, Sam. You’ve made jack-o-lanterns before, haven’t you? It’s the same concept. Just make sure you save the seeds!”
They spent the rest of the day getting all of the prep work they could ready for the dinner, including finishing all the salads, pre-making the soup, and stuffing the goose so it could have plenty of time to roast. At 5pm, Sam ran home to change into his best suit, leaving Belle to manage the kitchen, which suited her just fine since she had no intention of interacting with anyone in the dining room. That meant she could stay in the second outfit of the day she had ruined with chocolate. She really needed to stop changing when she was going to be baking; it was a waste of clean clothes.
The truth was, she was happy to stay in the back; she never had much use for the various levels of celebrity who frequented their restaurant and she had a feeling tonight was going to be no exception. She was thrilled that Sam was excited about schmoozing with Logan Gale and his friends. Belle would much rather laugh with the guys in the kitchen and chat with the musicians when they arrived, which happened right after Sam left.
At 6pm, the kitchen staff headed out for their last break before the final prep push and all the wait staff arrived, leaving Belle to work on her pastries and listen to the jazz quartet tune up in the dining room. They were practicing some of her favorite songs, but suddenly, they started playing, “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve,” and she felt a tear roll down her cheek. She flashed back to her last Christmas with James before she left for New York and the memories hit her like a tsunami.
There had been a party at his parents’ house, the kind of party where all of the adults drank spiked eggnog and chatted pleasantly about the year ahead while the kids stole cookies and almost knocked over the tree because they couldn’t stop running in sugar-fueled circles. In an effort to stay out of the fray, James and Belle found a quiet spot in the family room where no one else had congregated yet, right next to the tree.
The record player began to echo out an old version of, “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve” and James had asked her to dance. While the rest of the party was off in the kitchen and the formal living room, James and Annabelle danced together in the light of the tree, for what turned out to be the very last time.
She returned to the present with a gasp, as if she had been transported to the past by magic, and was grateful that, for the moment at least, she was alone. She hadn’t thought about that Christmas with James in years, and now she could feel every memory as though she was living it all over again.
She could smell the cinnamon of the candles, hear the slight scratch on the record and feel the light pressure of his hand on the small of her back. All she wanted was to experience those moments all over again. She wanted to create new ones. Every fiber of her being was crying out to be with James again and she knew that she could not keep ignoring that impulse.
Wintervale was what she wanted.
James was what she wanted.
Belle immediately regretted letting Sam leave, because she needed to talk to him about what she was feeling, and what she could do about it. But she also knew that she couldn’t exactly just walk out of the restaurant two hours before their biggest client ever showed up for dinner.
So, in spite of the overwhelming rush of emotions, she kept baking. She baked like a maniac until every tarte was done, perfectly decorated and ready for the dinner party. By the time the kitchen staff came back and the wait staff began to filter in, she’d even prepared every salad plate, so it could be delivered once Logan Gale and his friends were seated and ready to eat.
Thirty minutes before eight, Sam came rushing back into the kitchen to find everyone standing around chatting, and his face turned bright red.
“What is going on? Why aren’t…” But then he noticed that the first course was already sitting on the trays and he smelled the goose roasting in the oven. “Didn’
t you guys take your break? You have to take your break! I don’t want to get in trouble with…”
Belle held up her hand to quiet him before he made a fool of himself. “I took care of it while they were on break. Dessert is done. The squash is in the vegan oven and will be done the same time as the roast. Everything is ready.” She paused for just a moment and chewed her lip. There was no use in stalling any more. She took a breath, “Sam… I need to talk to you for a minute.”
His eyebrows shot up in panic, almost as if he could anticipate what she was going to say. But neither of them had a chance to say anything because a second later, they heard the front door of the restaurant open and the sound of animated chatter in the dining room. Sam turned green.
“It’s too early! Why are they early? They’re half-an-hour early!”
Belle grabbed his arm and gave him a gentle shake. “It’s fine, Sam. We’re ready. Go out there and be your perfectly charming self. I’ll get things moving back here.”
Sam took a deep breath that turned into more of a hysterical laugh and then he left the kitchen, which allowed Belle time to organize the staff and get the first course finished for delivery. Everyone was ready to go when Sam stuck his head back into through the doors.
“Annie, Logan Gale wants to meet you.”
Belle’s face instinctively scrunched up as she looked down at her dirty t-shirt and old, hole-filled jeans. “What? Why? No way.”
“Just get out here,” Sam growled as he reached for Belle’s hand pulled her out behind him. She stumbled over her own feet but regained her balance just as they stopped in front of the young actor.
He was just as handsome as the paparazzi photos she’d seen, maybe even a little more so, with shaggy dark hair and big, expressive chocolate brown eyes. He was tall and muscular, but lithe, and he had a charming, sly smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. But at the same time, something about him put Belle on edge. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was though.
It didn’t take long for her to find out.
Logan walked up to her and held his hand out to shake, but once he got close enough to talk to her, she could smell that he’d been drinking. When he took her hand, he kissed the top of it and his lips lingered on her knuckles just a little too long. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go until Sam stepped between them.
“Logan Gale, this is co-owner of Arcadia Café and our amazing pastry chef, Annabelle Harrison. She also has a hand in all of our dishes here.”
Logan winked at Belle before he stumbled ever-so-slightly into the pastry display case and leaned against it with that charming smile on his face. “And what a lovely hand it is. So, Christmas Belle… what did you…” he paused for so long that someone in the dinner party laughed awkwardly. The sound snapped him back to reality and he smiled wider. “What’s for dinner?”
Sam smiled crookedly and waved for the hostess to show everyone to their seats, then he shot Belle a nervous look that echoed exactly what she was thinking.
This is going to be a disaster.
Belle hurried back into the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to get away from the boisterous group of diners, more than a few of which she recognized from gossip sites and the covers of entertainment magazines. She also felt more than a little guilty for leaving Sam out there with them, but he was better equipped at dealing with that kind of chaos. And given the fact she was already lost in thought over potential escape plans and train schedules and how she might even get back to Wintervale tonight, there was no way she was going to be any use to her best friend in the dining room.
Belle could hear Logan Gale and his friends get louder and louder through each course, until even the kitchen staff started to quiet down to compensate. She kept apologizing to her employees, even though it wasn’t exactly her fault; thankfully, they all agreed to just make it through the meal and hope everyone eating dinner remembered enough to post about it on social media later.
The wait staff was just about to serve the dinner course, a sign the meal was rapidly approaching its end to everyone’s relief, when the swinging doors flew open, and Logan Gale appeared out of nowhere.
“Christmas Belle!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
One of the line cooks took a step in Annabelle’s direction in case she needed protection, but she waved a subtle hand at him to stay put, and she mouthed, “I’ve got this.” Then she looked at Logan with the biggest, fakest smile she could muster. “Mr. Gale, it’s really not safe for you to be back here. You should go back to your seat. Your dinner will be out any second and you don’t want to miss this meal.”
He chuckled as if she had told the best joke ever and took another step toward Belle, which she ducked by crossing over to the other side of the counter.
“Where you going, Christmas Belle? I just wanna… talk,” Logan slurred.
Annabelle knew she was safe in the company of her staff, but she had absolutely no intention of putting up with the young actor’s drunken nonsense. “SAM!” she shouted loud enough so he could hear her, no matter where he was in the restaurant. A second later, he appeared, and when he saw Logan, he groaned exaggeratedly.
“Logan, please return to your seat. Now.”
Logan saluted Sam with a laugh and then tripped back out to the dining room. For a moment, no one said anything, until the air became heavy with tension.
Belle pointed at the walk-in cooler and glared at Sam. “Walk-in. Now.”
Sam didn’t need to be told twice. Once they were shut inside the fridge where no one could hear them, she turned to her friend with a smile.
“I can’t do this anymore, Sam. I have to go home.”
He looked around nervously. “But we’re almost done! The tartes!”
“No, Sam. Not my apartment. Home, home. To Wintervale. I need to go back to James. To my grandmother. To Vermont. I thought this was what I wanted but I can’t do,” she gestured out toward the dining room, “that. I can’t do that for fifteen or twenty more years.”
“We’re not going to do this for fifteen more years! We’re going to turn into a cookbook and a lifestyle brand and maybe a show on major cooking network!”
Belle laughed and hugged her best friend. “I love you, Sam, but that’s what you want. It’s not what I want. I will never abandon you. I will never let you do this alone. This is our restaurant and I’m only going to be a few hours away. But this isn’t the life I want. I thought it was. But…”
Sam pulled her into an unexpected hug that almost lifted her off her feet. When he finally let her go, he looked as though he was going to cry. “I get it, Annabelle. I really do. You have to go after what you love, and if James is what you love, if Wintervale is what you love… then you can’t let the chance to try pass you by. Besides, what’s Christmas if you don’t spend it with the people you love?”
Belle hugged him again. “I love you too, you know.”
“You better, because I am sending you home to pack and catch the last train to Vermont tonight. We’ll finish up here with the 24-hour party people. Just escape out the back door.”
Annabelle grinned as she realized she could catch the first train out the morning and spend the night doing something else entirely.
“I am going to leave, but I won’t be packing. I have some baking to do. I’ll call you from the train tomorrow! I love you!”
After another hug, Belle bolted out of the restaurant and into the cold night air, but instead of the biting frost of a freezing December, all she felt was the warmth of pure happiness.
22
James
James leaned against the counter of the Middle Road Inn as he tried to focus on the practice pie he was baking, but he couldn’t seem to get any of them to come out right. The third attempted was sitting in front of him and the cinnamon to cardamom ratio was still just a little bit off. Daisy had gotten tired of waiting for him to figure out what he was doing, and he had called Patty in to pick her up several
hours before, so he’d lost his baking assistant. Raph and the rest of the kitchen staff had been working around him for the entire dinner service and even they were getting annoyed with his presence in his own restaurant. But James just couldn’t seem to concentrate.
The problem was, he hadn’t been able been able to think about anything except Belle, and he knew it was completely throwing him off his game. Normally, the day before the contest was an exciting one, he loved the competition aspect of the Bake-Off, and seeing what his friends and neighbors came up with was always a thrill.
But now, he couldn’t even muster up enough joy to get the darn pie right. And the worst part was, his gloom seemed to be rubbing off on Daisy, which was the absolute last thing he wanted. He’d already beaten himself up over the fact that Christmas had been such a mess that year, but now their favorite thing to do together was losing its sparkle. And he knew he couldn’t let that happen.
James squared his shoulders and with a determined nod, he picked up the pie to shove it in the fridge with the other two that hadn’t turned out the way he wanted.
“What was wrong with that pie, boss?” Raph asked, shaking his head. “I think you’re being a little hard on yourself.”
James slid the pie down the counter towards his kitchen manager with a shrug. “Take it home to your family, Raph. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not exactly what I want for the contest.” Raphael pulled a fork from the silverware pile and tasted the corner of the pie with a spoon. Then he raised a suspicious eyebrow at James.
“If there is something wrong with this pie, then maybe I shouldn’t do anymore of the baking here, because I’ve never made anything that good.”
James knocked his head against the refrigerator door a few times in frustration, then looked at the other discarded experiments on the racks with a groan. “I have no idea what to do, man. I can’t seem to get my head straight.”
“If you keep slamming it against my fridge like that, it won’t matter. You’ll scramble what little brain you have left.” James glowered at his head cook, who recognized the look clearly. “Alright, well, things are slowing down here, so I’m going outside for my break. I’ll come back in to break everything down in a few minutes… after you’ve cooled off.”
A Sugar Cookie Christmas: A Sweet Holiday Romance (Wintervale Promises Book 1) Page 15