Noel I Won’t

Chapter 1

NOEL

I walked through one of Chicago’s farmers markets that had popped up close to the coast of Lake Michigan, offering the best selection I’d ever found of fresh produce, fish, honey, and handcrafted goods.

Now that I was without a job, I had more time than I knew what to do with, so like any good chef, I’d been experimenting with all the recipes I’d never gotten to try while at the Orchid Room.

The owner, Reginald, had promised me creative freedom—until it cut into the bottom line.

Then he’d slowly tightened his purse strings into a noose, strangling all the hopes and dreams I’d had for my first restaurant.

With cheaper cuts of meat, less fresh ingredients, and a stale menu, we’d quickly gone from Chicago’s exciting new eatery to disappointing and pedestrian, according to food critics.

They were assholes who’d decimated our bookings with a few words in print, but they hadn’t been wrong. I’d spent years working my ass off in other people’s kitchens, all so I could one day manage a restaurant.

Now, all I had to show for it was the awful realization that my backbreaking labor of love might be at an end.

Not to mention all the bills I was falling behind on without a job.

My condo wasn’t cheap, and the head chef gig had paid well above my previous positions.

I couldn’t afford to keep it, even if I was willing to go back to working on a line.

“What happened to you is a fucking shame,” Kody said. “I’d never treat a chef with your talent like that.”

“Yeah, well, you know how to manage a restaurant,” I said wryly.

I’d met Kody on a day trip to Christmas Falls for a wine-tasting event last year. I’d been impressed with his pub—which was really quite upscale for a little town—and he’d picked my brain about my favorite items on his menu and ways I might change them.

We’d clicked right then, and even though he didn’t need a chef, we’d stayed in touch.

Occasionally, Kody came up to dine in great Chicago restaurants.

He was always invested in making the White Elephant everything it could be.

His enthusiasm was what I’d expected from Reginald—and sadly did not receive.

We stopped in front of a table covered in beautiful winter squash. I ran my fingernail over the edge of a butternut squash, testing the thickness of the skin, but I knew just from the looks of it—and the grizzled farmer who’d grown it—that it was going to be perfect.

“It’s a shit deal,” I said to Kody, continuing our conversation, “but it’s my fault for not sticking to my principles.”

He picked up a spaghetti squash and tapped the side, listening for the hollow sound that indicated ripeness. Satisfied, he set it in the joint basket we were carrying and dug in his pocket for a credit card. Most of the vendors were cashless, though there were a few holdouts.

Once he’d paid, we continued on, bypassing the fish stalls to browse the handcrafted goods.

There were carvings of woodland creatures, delicious-smelling candles, even dog treats on offer.

I snagged one for my sous chef. We were due to meet up and commiserate over our failed careers tomorrow night. Probably over too much wine.

“You should come down to Christmas Falls,” Kody said. “I don’t have a chef opening, but hell, you can come in and help us with some new recipes. I know everyone in town. Mik or Rudy might be open to hiring in their kitchen—”

My phone rang, cutting across his words. It was sweet of Kody to offer. We both knew I’d have an uphill battle in Chicago.

I glanced at my phone’s screen. “It’s my mom. I can just call her later.”

“No, you don’t,” Kody said, a scold in his tone. “That lady loves you, and we’re just wandering around aimlessly. Pick it up.”

“You’re not my boss yet,” I grumbled.

Probably not ever. I appreciated Kody’s offer, but there was no quicker way to kill a friendship.

I answered the call. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“Oh, Noel, I’m so glad I finally caught you!” She took a big breath. “You’re so busy that I just never know when to call.”

Guilt flared. A chef’s life wasn’t very family-friendly.

I spent long hours in the kitchen, and when I wasn’t there, I was so exhausted I was mostly passed out or vegging in a fugue state in front of an old episode of Dexter.

Watching a man chop up serial killers was oddly cathartic, and you had to admire his knife skills.

“Sorry,” I said. “I actually, uh, have some time off for the holidays.”

“You do?” Her whole voice brightened. “Oh, gosh, that’s lovely. If you have time, come see your dad. I know you’ve probably got much more important things to do, but we miss you.”

“You’re important, too,” I said, and then the rest of her statement caught up with me. An internal alarm went off. “Why should I see Dad?”

“What?”

“Well, you said I should come see Dad. Not both of you?”

“Oh.” She laughed. “I’m here, too, of course.”

“Right, so why—” I sucked in a breath. “Did something happen? Is he—”

“He’s fine,” she said, voice soothing. “We had a little heart scare. He’s recovering well.”

“Recovering!” I yelped. “What happened?”

My mother proceeded to tell me all about my father’s minor heart scare, which had ended with stents being inserted into his arteries. Not once, but twice! And without a single call to me.

“How could you not tell me?” I asked, wounded.

“Well, I did call,” she said tentatively. “I didn’t want to blurt it all on the voicemail, honey. I told you we had something to talk about.”

Shit. That message came in the night of a major blowup with Reginald. I’d completely forgotten to return the call. I’d been melting down over a stupid restaurant while my father was in the hospital.

“I’m so sorry,” I croaked while Kody turned, concern creasing his forehead.

“Noel,” she said, her stern mom voice coming out, “listen to me.”

“I’m listening.”

“You work in a demanding, stressful, ambitious field. We’ve always understood you had dreams. We want you to live your best life. We’re fine here. This is our happy place. It hasn’t always been yours, and I’m so sorry it wasn’t the best place to come out as a young gay kid.”

“Not your fault, Mom.”

“Still,” she said. “We’re not upset you’re busy. You have a life. We get it. But…”

“I should have called back,” I murmured.

“If you don’t, you could miss something important, honey. And I only worry because we won’t be the ones living with regret.”

“You’re right.”

“If you can’t make it home, we’ll understand. We always do. It gets so busy around here—”

“Wait, how are you managing a tree farm in Dad’s condition? He’s not out there working, is he?”

“No, of course not. Hopper is helping us out. You remember him, don’t you?”

Tall, broad football player with every girl in school panting after him—and one scrawny, terrified gay boy? Yeah, hard to forget.

“His parents’ farm went under years ago. He’s been running the farm for us. Honestly, we owe him so much. We’d probably have to retire otherwise.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? It sounds like Dad needs to take it easy.”

“Maybe not,” she allowed. “But you know your father. He’s a third-generation farmer. He’s not going to just sell it to the highest bidder.”

No, he’d always wanted to pass it on to me, and now that I was gone, Hopper had moved in, taking advantage of my parents’ precarious position. With a little charm, he might even convince them to just hand over the deed, no money needed, for all his dedicated work.

Dad’s voice called out in the background.

“Be right there!” Mom called, muffling the receiver so she didn’t blast off my ear. Her voice was quiet as she returned. “I should go make Ed some lunch. Otherwise, he’s likely to cover the whole meal in salt. Honestly, he’s worse than managing a toddler!”

I chuckled. “Okay, Mom. Thanks for calling again.”

“No worries. You have a Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie.”

“Oh, I will. Don’t make any plans. I’ll be home to cook a big meal for us all.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with family for the holiday.”

And by the sounds of things, someone needed to keep an eye on Dad and Hopper both.