Her shoulders dropped as tension eased. “Thank you.”
He studied her for a moment. “You feel better?”
She did. The constant need to listen, to watch, had quieted.
“I know it’s not a fix,” she said. “But it helps a little.”
“That’s the point.”
She glanced toward the barn. For the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for something bad to happen.
“I’m sorry I have to head out,” Caleb said. “Chase has another short job for me.” He frowned slightly. “Are you okay if I leave?”
She gave him a small smile. “Yes. My dad and Roy are here. I have a lot of work to do, too.”
He kissed her, then walked over to the guys who were packing up, shaking hands before they pulled out.
Mia wished he could stay, then shook the thought off. She was a grown woman. She didn’t need a babysitter. She had a business to run. The insurance would cover repairs. What she needed now was to drum up business—lots of business.
She walked into her work kitchen. Everything felt exactly the same. She didn’t.
She sat at the table and opened her calendar. Not much there. Well, she could upload the pictures Autumn sent from the podcast. Do a little social media. Remind people she was still around.
Her phone rang while she was in the middle of uploading.
Unknown number.
She hesitated, then answered. “Hello?”
“Mia Whitmore,” a woman asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Karen Lopez with the Ridgeway Foundation. I’m calling about our annual fundraiser.”
Mia’s pulse kicked up. “Okay.”
“We were scheduled with another caterer,” Karen continued, “but circumstances have changed. We’ve been following your work and would like to move forward with Plated Perfection instead.”
For a moment, Mia couldn’t speak.
The Ridgeway Foundation wasn’t small. It wasn’t just local. It had visibility. Real money. The kind of event that changed how people talked about you.
“I, yes,” she said finally. “Absolutely.”
“We’d like to host it at your event barn, if it’s still available,” Karen added. “It’s a small gathering for our major donors, if that’s still possible.”
Mia closed her eyes briefly. The timing felt surreal.
“It is,” she said. “And we’d love to have you.”
When the call ended, she sat there for a moment, phone still pressed to her ear.
This was great news, but she felt a pang of guilt. This event had been someone else’s. Word would travel. People would notice.
And whoever tried to scare her off had just been given proof it hadn’t worked.
Later that night, Mia locked up the barn and paused before heading to the house.
