Chapter One
NOELLE
The broiler at Jolly's Diner has seen better days; about thirty years' worth of them, in fact. I adjust the temperature dial, held in place with electrical tape that's probably as old as I am, and slide another tray of my experimental Christmas Dinner Melts under the flames.
“That's not gonna sell, sweetheart.”
I don't need to turn around to know Dad's standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, wearing the same skeptical expression he had when I suggested adding avocado toast to the menu years ago.
“It's turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and brie on sourdough,” I say, pulling out the perfectly golden sandwich. The cheese bubbles at the edges, and the cranberry sauce caramelizes just enough to make my mouth water. I nudge up my glasses and focus on the griddle. “Trust me, Dad. I’ve got this. It’s theChristmas Dinner Melt.It’s going to save the diner.”
He pokes his head further around the door, gray hair sticking up in tufts. “You said that about the cranberry tuna a couple of days ago.”
“Okay, that was a misstep.”
Dad shakes his head. “People are still talking about it.”
“They should be. It was bold.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’rebold, kiddo. That’s never been the problem.”
He peers at my creation. “People come to Jolly's for normal food. Burgers. Club sandwiches. Pie.”
“We need to attract the younger crowd too, Dad. That's why we're barely breaking even.” The words slip out before I can stop them, sharper than I intended.
His frowns. “We're doing just fine.”
We're not, and we both know it.
But I bite my tongue because I'm only here temporarily, helping out while Mom recovers from her broken ankle. After Christmas, I'll either be starting a new job at Harvest & Hearth, developing recipes for their new artisanal line, or I'll be crawling back to my current soul-sucking position at MegaMart Foods, creating fifteen different variations of ‘cheesy’ using processed cheese products.
“I should take your mother her lunch.” Dad packages up a container of soup and one of the regular grilled cheeses; not my fancy version with three artisanal cheeses and fig jam, which he'd vetoed this morning. “You okay here alone for an hour?”
“I've been working in professional kitchens for five years, Dad. I think I can handle the lunch rush in Snowflake Falls.”
He pauses at the door. “Your watch is crooked.”
I glance down at the vintage timepiece on my wrist, inherited from my grandma, its cracked face showing the wrong time as always. The band is indeed twisted. “It's my good luck charm.”
He smiles. “I’ll be back soon.”
After he leaves, I straighten the watch and take a bite of my Christmas Dinner Melt. The flavors are perfect: savory turkey, herbs from the stuffing, that sweet-tart pop of cranberry, all brought together by creamy, melted brie. This couldreallywork.I spontaneously place an order for a delivery tomorrow of extra ingredients.
My phone buzzes with a text from my best friend, Avery.
Tomorrow I’m bringing SO MANY DECORATIONS. That diner is going to look like Christmas threw up on it in the BEST way!
My best friend works in the Christmas boutique across the street from the diner. I grin, typing back
Dad's going to flip out.
I’m sure you can talk him round. BTW, have you seen Gabriel Frost yet??
My stomach does a little somersault that I refuse to acknowledge. Gabriel Frost. Of course he's still here. Completely unaware that I exist, just like in high school when I used to watch him from behind my thick glasses, writing his name in the margins of my notebooks like a lovesick teenager. Which, to be fair, I was.
No, and I'm not looking for him either.
Liar, liar, panties on fire!
