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Ginny couldn’t sleep a wink. Between worrying about her father’s recovery, to the flashes of pain in Max’s eyes, her mind could not rest. Padding down to the kitchen, Ginny quietly turned on the coffee maker and started pulling out ingredients for breakfast. From the living room, she heard her father’s snores on the sofa. Last night as Mona was leaving, they’d debated trying to get him upstairs but decided to keep him comfortable on his cushions. Mona was a lifesaver, that was for certain.
It never escaped her notice that Max would have been wonderful. He was excellent company for Harold, but also would have been a support for her. She missed his flannel shoulders and strong arms holding her steady, holding her firmly in place when she faltered. Why had she reacted the way she did? Why did she think she could live without him in her life?
Max was really finished with her now, and who could blame him? Even someone with so sweet a disposition has their breaking point. His ex-wife returning home at the holidays, wreaking havoc in his personal life, and embedding herself in his turf had to hurt. Why, why, why did she have to be such a flake when it came to Max and his heart?
At the start it was easy to play the blame game, looking back on the last year of their marriage. Max was always at the diner. He’d never made time for her—the list could go on. Yet this visit home brought the truth into sharper focus. Ginny had been as bad, maybe worse, when it came to the reasons behind the divorce. When Max was working, so was she. She’d been just as invested in her career as Max had been in his. What should have brought them closer together ended up tearing them apart.
Ginny realized two important things: Max deserved better, but so did she. Ginny wasn’t her mother, and Max wasn’t Harold. They could make things right; they could talk to each other and figure it out. There was still something between them, and she wasn’t going to lose it again.
Sliding the butter dish toward the toaster, Ginny busied herself with other thoughts, other concerns. One concern that did not rear its ugly head was her recent unemployment. Throughout the night, the only thing that didn’t keep Ginny up was the fact that she quit her job. She expected a pang of regret or a moment’s sanity when she would call Lana and beg for her job back. But there was nothing. After more than two years of working herself into a stupor, she had nothing to show for it beyond a sense of relief to be done.
Ginny pulled a carton of eggs and started cracking them into a bowl. She used such force that the shells splintered inside, leaving Ginny to fish them out with her finger. “Come on.” She groaned as the fifth egg nearly exploded in her hand.
“Are you making crunchy omelets this morning?” Harold croaked from the doorway. His salt and pepper hair stood in every conceivable direction, and he leaned against the wall for support.
Task forgotten, Ginny rushed to his side and let him lean on her. “Let’s get you some coffee,” she said as she guided him toward his chair. Before Harold could settle into his seat, Ginny brought over his coffee and the morning paper. The Jubilee was the front-page story, and seeing the details made her chest ache.
Harold smiled at his daughter and patted her cheek before she could step away. “You’re so sweet taking care of me, Ginnybread.”
Pausing by her father’s chair, Ginny bit her lip and let his words sink in. “It’s no trouble, Dad. Anyone worth a darn would help.” Even though her mother rarely haunted their conversations, Ginny pictured her clearly in that moment. Never a nurturing woman, Ginny always went to her father when she needed some TLC. Harold was warm and giving, and it never escaped Ginny that her mother made a mistake. How could she have walked away from a man who had so much love to give?
Suddenly Ginny felt uneasy. The parallels between her and her mother were too much, and she needed to clear her head. “What can I make you for breakfast?” she asked, turning back to the mess of eggs and shells.
Harold studied his daughter for a moment, taking in her tense shoulders and the abused eggs clenched in her hand. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice light and his tone reassuring. “I happen to have all morning free,” he teased.
Ginny shook her head, keeping her gaze on the massacre in front of her. Deciding it would be easier to start from scratch, she dumped the bowl into the sink and wiped her hands on her bathrobe. “How about oatmeal?” she suggested, nearly throwing the half carton of eggs back into the fridge.
“How about coffee first? Frankly, I don’t have enough oatmeal for you to toss in the sink. And stop that, we don’t have a garbage disposal.” He winked, but Ginny blanched at the statement. She sat back in her chair and placed her coffee cup in front of her. Keeping her eyes downcast, she poked at a hole in the tablecloth. Harold didn’t say anything, just watched his daughter with interest. He knew he could wait her out.
Less than a minute later, Ginny leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. She looked up into her dad’s earnest expression and nearly burst into tears. “I messed up, Dad.” She sobbed, wiping at a stray tear with the sleeve of her robe.
Harold eased himself forward and sipped from his cup, careful not to put too much weight on one of his sides. “Well now.” He sighed, undoubtedly upset to see his daughter in distress. “Let’s start at the beginning.” Ginny tugged at the sleeves of her robe and mumbled to herself for a moment, struggling to find the beginning of her recent path to self-destruction—or self-enlightenment if she was feeling generous.
“I guess it’s two things, although one isn’t really bothering me like it should.”
“Start with that then. We will work our way up to the bigger issues at hand.” Harold nodded at his own suggestion, pleased when Ginny licked her lips and shared her thoughts.
“I quit my job,” she blurted out. Her shoulders lifted with the admission. “On my way home from the cookie party. My boss, Lana, called, and it sent me over the edge. Her work-life balance policies are a joke, and I’d had enough.”
Harold didn’t wince at the admission, keeping his eyes locked on Ginny’s expressions. “You don’t seem very upset about this. When did these policies change?”
The question threw Ginny, and she paused to collect her thoughts. “Never, really. I guess my opinions on the policies changed,” she offered. Millions of examples of these previous imbalances raced through her mind now that she thought about it. There was her birthday last year when she worked nearly until midnight finishing up an account in Japan. Then there was the Valentine’s before when she’d inadvertently stood up a Tinder date after she’d lost track of time in a staff meeting. The latter didn’t really bother Ginny, especially now, but the memory of the lonely birthday eating a Lean Cuisine was the perfect example.
Her father waited for Ginny to find her words and share her thoughts, as he had done so many times before. Ginny supposed this was where she and Max had found their communication patterns, back when they communicated. Ginny borrowed her father’s patience, while Max found his words; then the pair would talk and come to common ground. Looking down at her slippered feet, Ginny wondered if there was any common ground left to stand on.
“Penny for your thoughts? You seem a million miles away.” Ginny looked up and blinked back into focus. “I won’t pretend to understand your field, or what the current job market is like.” Harold cleared his throat before sipping his coffee. “You will find another job, and in the meantime, you have a roof over your head. What’s really bothering you, Ginnybread?”
The childhood endearment tightened Ginny’s throat, and she tried to swallow past the fresh bout of tears. Giving up the ghost, she hiccupped as the tears escaped. Harold reached for a tea towel draped over the other chair and handed it to his daughter, his eyes turning red as he watched her collect herself. “I think I’m like her. It scares me to death.” Ginny cried into the damp towel.
Fully understanding the situation, Harold rapped his knuckles on the table to get her attention. “I’m only going to say this once, all right?” This was the business tone, the tone Harold used when Ginny was in trouble or something major happened. Squaring her shoulders, Ginny waited for the impact of his words. “You are absolutely nothing like your mother. I cannot stress that enough.”
“How can you say that with a straight face?” Ginny lamented.
“Watch me,” Harold ordered, circling his face with his index finger. “You are not like your mother.” Sensing she didn’t believe him, he tried another tactic. “Can you tell me how you think you’re alike? Maybe that will help me prove my point.”
Ginny tensed but didn’t shy away from the question. “I’m not very nurturing, and I throw people away.”
Holding up a hand, Harold interrupted her examples. “I’ll stop you right there on your first point. You left your job and came home to help me recover. Plus, you’ve been working on the Jubilee. That is selfless and very caring. We both know your mother wouldn’t have done any of that, even when she was living at home. When I really need you, I know you’ll be here. Don’t you see how that’s already a major difference?”
The clock on the kitchen wall ticked with Ginny’s racing heart, ticking away her fears as she watched her father’s kind expression. She felt a little more grounded knowing that her father believed in her so much, and better yet that she met his expectations. “That’s all well and good, but what about the fact that I threw Max away?”
Harold thoughtfully scratched at his graying beard. With the anticipation of his surgery, his usual grooming habits had flown out the window. “I’ve said this before, and I mean it. No one knows what goes on between a husband and wife except for the husband and wife. You need to talk to Max about this and see where you kids stand.”
Ginny’s finger tensed around the cuff of her sleeve, the terry cloth bending into submission. “I don’t think Max will ever speak to me again.”
“That’s baloney. The man worships the ground you walk on. When you see him tonight at the Jubilee, I’m sure ...” Harold clamped his mouth shut, his cheeks blazing crimson. “I mean, whenever you see him again. I’m sure you’ll talk and work things out.”
Raising an eyebrow, Ginny watched the flush on her father’s cheeks run down his neck. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, and she knew something was up. “What’s going on?”
“You’re telling me why you think you’re like your mother. I’m telling you now, she wouldn’t have worried about throwing anyone away, husband or otherwise.” His words stung harder than Ginny wanted to admit, but she knew they were true.
Her mother had never reached out to her after that day, and Ginny knew it was why she had trouble trusting anyone beyond her father. If the woman that gave birth to her didn’t want her in her life, then why would anyone else?
“Do you think she ever thinks about us?” she asked, watching her father’s face fall.
“I’m usually an optimist, but I really don’t know. I’d like to think deep down, she’s proud of you. With that darn internet, she probably knows more about you than I do.” He chuckled half-heartedly. “Your mother was a complicated woman, but I’ll forever be grateful that she gave me you. She gave me my family.”
Ginny crossed over to her father and leaned in for a hug. She cried into the neck of his favorite hoodie, savoring the scent of his skin. “I love you,” she said, feeling a sense of relief and content at sharing her fears with her father.
“I love you too.” Harold held his daughter, barely grimacing as she leaned too much into his embrace. “You’re going to be fine. If there is anyone I know who can get their life together, it’s you.”
Finally Ginny felt herself smile. “You seem awfully certain, considering I just told you I was unemployed and persona non grata with my ex-husband.”
Harold smiled at his daughter’s statement. “I have it on good authority that you got a job offer recently.”
Ginny scoffed. “There really aren’t any secrets in Buckeye Falls, are there?”
“Haven’t been before. Why start now?” Harold shrugged, holding Ginny’s hand until she rose to her feet. “Now that we’ve poured our hearts out, could I have another cup of coffee?”
Sniffing, Ginny took both their cups and strode toward the coffee maker. “I think I can muster up some breakfast now. You hungry?” Harold nodded and patted his belly. Before she could start, there was a knock at the door. “Who could that be? I didn’t think Mona was coming by until lunch.”
Harold shrugged, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. Oh boy ...
When she pulled open the door, Ginny saw Natalie carrying two enormous tote bags. “Morning!” she chimed as she pushed her way into the house. She headed straight to the kitchen without a backward glance, her heels clicking across the hardwood floors.
Ginny started to close the door when a foot poked in through the doorway. “Thanks for holding that,” Mona said as she waddled past, her arms weighed down with boxes. “Who knew donuts were this heavy?” Hot on her heels was another woman, and pretty much the last person she expected to see at the house—CeCe.
“Thanks,” CeCe said on a huff as she followed Mona and Natalie inside. Gobsmacked, Ginny didn’t move for a moment, trying to figure out why she was here. Unless she wasn’t alone?
Ginny stuck her head out to see if anyone else was waiting in the cool December morning. Unfortunately for her, there was not a Max Sanchez in sight. “Damn.” She sighed as she closed the door. Walking into the kitchen, she found Mona starting a new pot of coffee while Natalie covered the table with the contents of her bags. CeCe had her head in the fridge as she stacked plastic containers.
“I’ve labeled these by dates, so eat in order,” she instructed from inside the veggie crisper.
“What is all this?” Ginny asked, picking up a stack of papers that were next to a curling iron.
CeCe waved but stayed by the refrigerator. “Max and I offered to bring some of the Jubilee foods to Harold since he can’t make it.”
“That’s really sweet,” Ginny said, meaning it too. Now that she knew CeCe wasn’t competition, she really could see the appeal of the woman.
“The food is usually the best part,” Mona agreed as she strode to Harold and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. Ginny was pleased to discover the sight didn’t surprise her anymore. In fact, she relished seeing her father being cherished like that.
Turning back to the stack of supplies on the table, Ginny knew Natalie was up to something. “Do I even want to know?”
Natalie took her cup of coffee and sipped thoughtfully. “Probably not, but you’re about to find out.” Mona plated up donuts for everyone and took the empty seat next to Harold. The pair leaned closed and shared a quiet chuckle while Natalie finished setting her things. “All right, let’s start with business before we go to pleasure.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow at her friend. “I have a feeling none of this is going to be pleasurable,” she deadpanned.
Natalie waved her off with a manicured hand. “Not for you, for me. I’m going to enjoy the next few hours.”
Mona took a bite of her donut and said through a mouthful of jelly. “I don’t doubt it, Natalie. You scare me sometimes.”
CeCe pulled out a chair and sat down. Her gaze was locked on Ginny, but it wasn’t unkind. “Nat is a force to be sure.” She took a donut and ate half of it in one bite. “Damnit, these are actually pretty good.”
Mona snorted. “I told you to give that new bakery a shot. They aren’t real competition for you and Max.” Harold swiped a blob of jelly from Mona’s cheek, and Ginny felt her heart pang at the sight. That was true tenderness.
“Here,” Natalie said as she thrust a stack of papers into Ginny’s hands. “This is the job description, salary range, and business plan. Take these and review them. I thought we could meet up after Christmas to finalize our plans.” She winced at her words and amended, “That is if you like the plans.”
Glancing down at the sheets in her hands, Ginny saw a very generous salary and a job description that was comparable to her job in New York. Sure, there were some differences, but the core parts of the job were there. She could be creative but manage a smaller client base and forge more relationships on her own. Held in her sweaty hands was a job that could make her happy, in the town that suddenly felt like home again.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Ginny squared her shoulders and stepped right into her new life. “I’ll take it. Let’s start mid-range on the salary and we can negotiate a raise after the first year’s appraisal. How does that work?”
Natalie blinked. Her jaw hit the table as Mona patted Harold’s hand. Ginny didn’t miss the look those two shared, and she knew there were a lot of cooks in this kitchen. “I know I should make you wait, but I’m not looking this gift horse in the mouth.” Natalie leaned across the table to embrace her new employee. “This is against everything in the employee handbook, so you’ll just have to sue me.” She laughed as Ginny pulled back.
“That went better than I thought.” Mona beamed as she dabbed at the tears in her eyes. “Congratulations to both of you.”
Ginny was excited, truly looking forward to starting something new with Natalie. She turned to CeCe and grimaced. “Can you please not share this with Max yet? I want to talk to him myself.”
CeCe dusted donut crumbs from her hands and nodded. “I’m a vault. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“He doesn’t?”
CeCe huffed out a laugh. “He’s a friend, but we don’t tell each other everything. If I’m being honest, I wanted to make sure you were as nice as everyone says you are.”
Ginny snorted. “I’m sure you heard I was wondering the same about you.”
CeCe chuckled. “If you promise not to use Max’s heart as a punching bag, then we have no issues.” She crossed her heart with her index finger. “I mean it, Ginny. Nat’s one of my best friends, and if she wants to work with you, I trust you’re good enough for Max.”
Ginny, her chin wobbling, felt a sense of relief wash over her at CeCe’s assessment. She didn’t realize it, but she was banking on the other woman liking her. Max made no effort to hide how important CeCe was to him as a person and a chef. The last thing Ginny wanted was to make things harder for him.
Suddenly, Natalie took Ginny’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Okay, now that we’re all best friends and employed, the fun part can begin.”
“Do I want to know?” Ginny asked with a groan.
“Like I said, probably not.”
CeCe gathered the empty donut box and chuckled. “Buckle up,” was all she said as she retreated toward the trashcan.
Harold took the donut from Ginny’s forgotten plate and took a bite. “Just remember to be nice to your new boss, Ginnybread.”
“What does that mean?”
Natalie took Ginny’s hand and tugged her toward the stairs, the curling iron clutched in her other hand. “It means it’s time for Cinderella to get ready for the ball. CeCe, grab that last tote bag!”
Ginny couldn’t help but laugh as Natalie practically dragged her up the stairs. “You’re forgetting a very important part of that fairy tale.” Ginny grunted as she pulled her arm free. “I don’t have a dress.”
Natalie plugged in her curling iron and sat it carefully on the dresser. Turning, she flung open the closet, retrieving the red dress from the back. “This is all you need, plus my makeup magic. I’m your freaking fairy godmother.” Natalie smirked as she tossed the dress on the bed. “CeCe, can you find that tube of concealer?”
CeCe made a face, her nose wrinkling in confusion. “Nat, when was the last time you saw me wear concealer? Isn’t that like shapewear?”
Natalie let out a huff and pointed to her friend. “You’re next on the makeover train.” CeCe snorted but didn’t argue.
“How did you know about this dress?” Ginny asked, turning the conversation back to her Cinderella moment.
Mona joined them in Ginny’s bedroom, a tote bag in one hand and her coffee in another. “Your Prince Charming. He let it slip that you might need it someday.”
Tears threatened to fall again, and Ginny sniffed. “Max bought that for me?”
Natalie stopped pulling her makeup out of her tote long enough to smile up at her friend. “He sure did, so let’s not keep him waiting. It’s grand-gesture time, girl!”
And with that, Natalie plucked up her curling iron and went into full fairy godmother mode. CeCe stood smiling, nibbling at the last donut Mona had shared. All three women went to work on turning her into a Buckeye Falls’ princess, and Ginny was all too happy to play the part.
*
“That should be the last of it,” CeCe said as she slammed Evan’s trunk closed. “I’ll bring the extra utensils after I get ready.
Max patted Evan on the back and smiled when he saw how early it was. The old saying was definitely accurate, many hands make light work. “You’re the best. Thanks for making all these trips.”
Evan flushed at the praise, his skin getting dangerously close to the color of Santa’s suit. “No big deal. What’s the point of owning this beast if I can’t use it?” Evan rapped his knuckles on the car door and smiled at his beat-up hatchback.
For a moment, no one spoke. They were exhausted from days of cooking, baking, boxing, and packing. The Jubilee was the highlight of the holidays, but few people realized how much work really went into an event that half of Buckeye Falls attended. “I should go home and become more presentable.” CeCe gestured at her flour-speckled jeans and her ball cap.
“Not on my account. I don’t mind if you show up as you are.” Evan smiled at CeCe, his skin officially the color of cranberry sauce. “Pick you up at six?”
Max watched CeCe soften a little. “I’ll meet you there at six-fifteen. How’s that?”
Evan wasn’t deterred. “No point driving two cars. I’ll pick you up. I can take you back whenever you’re ready. I swear.” He held his hand up, giving CeCe the Boy Scout salute.
Max bit his lip, dying to interject on Evan’s behalf. The kid was trying so hard to please CeCe, it nearly broke Max’s heart. She rolled her eyes and finally gave in. “Fine, pick me up at six. But remember, this is not a date-date.”
Now Max couldn’t help himself. “Date-date? I know I’m out of practice, but what the heck does that mean?”
CeCe looked to Evan for support, but he merely crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited for her explanation. “I wouldn’t mind a definition myself, seeing as how I’m part of this non-date date.”
Max hid his smile behind his hand as CeCe stomped her foot. “This was a bad idea.” She groaned. Holding up her hand, she began defining the nuances of non-date dates. “First, no touching.”
“But it’s a dance. How will we not touch?” Evan scoffed.
“Amendment to point one—touching only on the dance floor. And no funny business or shenanigans.” CeCe waited until Evan seemed content before continuing. “Next, no mistletoe or romantic gestures. Lastly, this doesn’t mean anything. We are two friends going to an event together. That’s it.”
Max couldn’t hold it in another second. “So, it sounds like you two are going to have a magical evening,” he surmised. “Make sure you stomp on CeCe’s feet at least once during a slow dance.” He winked at Evan, who looked surprisingly upbeat.
CeCe pointed at Evan and sighed. “You look too happy for a man who just found out he’s not going on a date. Why are you so happy?”
Evan shrugged; the gesture carefree. He took a moment before he answered. “I’m looking forward to spending time with you outside the diner. If that means we don’t touch, laugh, or generally enjoy ourselves, I’ll take it.” Stepping into his car, Evan shouted through the open window. “Pick you up at six.” He drove away, leaving a slack-jawed CeCe behind.
Max gave the guy credit. Evan was taking what he could with a smile. Max envied the kid’s resilience; it was in short supply with Max. “I think it’s great you two are going together,” Max offered a confused CeCe. “You’ll have a great time, I’m sure.”
CeCe shook her head as if she could loosen the cobwebs cluttering her brain. “It’s going to be a disaster. I’m leading the guy on; don’t you see that?”
Max shook his head. “You told him, in very vivid detail with bullet points, how this isn’t a date. I don’t know if you could have done more explaining without getting a whiteboard and drawing the portions of your heart that were off-limits. Give the guy some credit; he knows the score.”
CeCe clamped her hands on her hips and stared Max down. “Speaking of men who know the score, what are your plans with Ginny?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Max fought against the tide of nerves churning through his stomach. He had no idea if, yet again, he’d be alone and heartbroken on Christmas. “We’ll see. I’m working on my Hail Mary. I’ll either be the happiest guy in Buckeye Falls tonight, or I’ll be drowning my sorrows with Evan at the punch bowl. Either way, tonight is a shift for me.”
CeCe was intrigued. “What kind of shift?”
“I’m either going to get my wife back, or I’m going to cut ties and start over. I cannot stay in this constant state of limbo, not knowing if she’ll ever change her mind. If Ginny’s happiness isn’t with me, then I hope she can find it. And it will mean I need to find mine.”
CeCe smiled, an honest smile that made it to her eyes. “That sounds surprisingly healthy.”
Max laughed. “Don’t be fooled. If she turns me down again, I will be calling you for more bourbon and a shoulder to cry on.”
Thrusting her hand out to Max, CeCe shook it and said, “Deal. I’m here if you need me.” She bit her lip and continued, “I wouldn’t count your girl out just yet. Have a little faith.”
Max pulled CeCe into a hug, a completely foreign act, and both were silent for a moment. “Thank you, CeCe. I know I don’t say it enough.” Max heard a sniffle, but he knew better than to bring it up. CeCe would kick him in the groin if he brought up any more emotions.
Pulling back, CeCe wrapped her arms around her torso to stave off the chill. While the skies above were cloudless and blue, there was a nip in the air that even a down coat couldn’t keep away. “I better go become presentable for this thing. Take care of yourself, and let me know what you need.” Max nodded and watched CeCe get into her truck and back out of the parking lot.
Normally Max liked to have a plan in place when he had something to accomplish. Need to revamp the menu? Time to survey the customers for what they wanted. Even his time with Harold was carefully scheduled. It was a trick Max had learned back in school when his stammer had gotten the better of him. If he knew what was coming, he’d have time to practice and plan his words.
Now he was mere hours away from seeing Ginny, and he had no idea what he would do or say to get her attention. All he’d managed so far was texting Harold to confirm she would at least be at the Jubilee, but that fact did little to calm his nerves. “Get it together, man,” Max said to himself as he locked up the diner and headed back to his house. Plan or no plan, he couldn’t show up tonight in his soiled apron and jeans. He needed to get decked out, and fast. He was also going to take some of CeCe’s advice and have a little faith. After all, it was the Christmas Jubilee. Anything could happen.