Chapter 6
Mia stood in the barn kitchen staring at a recipe as if it held the secrets of the universe.
Right now, it mostly mocked her. The morning couldn’t have started worse.
Not only had her dad’s physical therapist canceled, but he was cranky after having fallen during the night.
He was okay, thank God, but she had been up all night worrying about him.
There was a small bruise on his hip and a scrape on his knee, but other than that, he was okay.
But her nerves were shot. So was her patience.
Later today she was catering an engagement party at a client’s house, which meant prepping dozens of appetizers and mini desserts before she even set foot outside her kitchen.
Trays of maple-glazed bacon-wrapped dates were cooling on the counter, their sweet-smoky scent filling the air.
Alongside them was a platter of roasted shrimp crostini, and another filled with tomato jam and mascarpone tartlets waited nearby.
You just couldn’t go wrong with a savory tomato jam topped with whipped mascarpone and a drizzle of honey-balsamic glaze.
The mini puff-pastry tarts with goat cheese and caramelized onions were almost ready to plate.
Canceled? Seriously? Of all days?
She had also planned time to swing by Will’s farm for fresh dill, edible flowers and microgreens.
That is, if the van started. She still hadn’t gotten around to getting the battery checked.
Regardless, that would be a couple of hundred dollars she didn’t have right now.
Every delay came with a price tag lately.
Mia closed her eyes and exhaled. One step at a time. She couldn’t think too far ahead or she’d freeze. She called the client, explained the situation and got permission to substitute crab for the lobster. A small hit to her profit, but still. Pride didn’t pay invoices.
She still needed to hire a couple of servers for an event on Saturday night since two of her regulars were unavailable. And that was assuming nothing else fell apart between now and then.
She glanced at her watch. Okay, she had two hours to get to Will’s, swing by the seafood market and get back in time to finish the hors d’oeuvres. Thankfully, the desserts were done and most of the appetizers prepared. At least something had gone right.
The van started on the third try, and she was on her way. She didn’t breathe easy until she hit the main road. She gripped the wheel and headed toward Sweet Water Organics. The drive wound past fields of wildflowers and grazing cattle. A pretty sight on most days but not today.
She pulled into the gravel lot, taking in the white farmhouse with its wide front porch and several wooden rocking chairs scattered around.
She drove farther in, parking near the greenhouses and the big red barn.
Behind it were rows of citrus trees and herb beds, neat and thriving, unlike her morning.
Will stood just inside the open doors with a tall, dark-haired woman in a striped apron.
She parked the truck and stepped out. The scent of roasted fruit and herbs filled the air.
“Mia!” Will called out. “You’re just in time for a sample.”
The woman turned and smiled. “Sabrina Masters,” she said, offering her hand. “Savory Designs.”
Mia shook her hand and introduced herself. “Mia Whitmore. Plated Perfection.” She kept her grip friendly even though Sabrina’s handshake told her that she wasn’t worried about competition. Bold move, considering Mia held her own in New York City.
“Sabrina and I are testing some recipes for the next farm-to-table dinner,” said Will.
Her ego took a tiny blow. She’d been one of the most requested caterers in the city, and here in Haywood Lake she was finally rebuilding that momentum. She’d hoped Will might loop her in again this year, but Sabrina looked like the kind of woman who got invited automatically, no questions asked.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d already started planning.”
“Just brainstorming,” Will said quickly. “You know how it goes.”
Sure. Mia knew exactly how it went. Sometimes brainstorming meant you were part of the conversation.
Sometimes they forgot to call the woman who built a following in New York and half of Haywood Lake.
Sometimes you just had to stand there pretending it didn’t hurt.
But coming home to take care of her father had been her choice, and she didn’t regret it. Mostly.
Sabrina gestured to the board in front of her. “Roasted peach crostini with prosciutto and rosemary honey. Want to try one?”
“They look beautiful,” said Mia. “But I’m here for some microgreens, edible flowers and dill.” She glanced at Will. “If you have them.”
Will winced before he smoothed it away. The kind of look that told her he already knew the answer and wished he didn’t.
“Well, let’s go look,” he said. “Although Sabrina cleaned me out this morning, there might be something you can use.”
Mia’s stomach dropped, but she forced a smile. “Guess I should’ve gotten here sooner.”
“Sorry,” Will said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you’d called …” His voice trailed off.
Yeah, yeah. She knew. If she weren’t so stressed about everything, this wouldn’t have happened. It hadn’t ever in New York City, but things here just weren’t the same. Here, her life wasn’t built around ambition; it was built around care. And some days that cost her more than she liked admitting.
“It’s all right, Will. Let’s go see what you have.”
The scent of damp soil and tomato vines hit Mia the minute she stepped into the greenhouse. Rows of herbs and greens stretched in neat lines, the air was thick with humidity.
“I can pull some baby arugula if that helps. I know I have dill.” He glanced around the worktables, rifling through trays that had already been picked over. “Flowers are … well, we’ll see what’s hanging on.”
Before Mia could answer, the door squeaked open and Sabrina stepped in. “Oh, I left a box of basil in here. If I’d known you needed microgreens, I’d have saved you a handful. But they’re so delicate, you really have to plan ahead with these things.”
“Good advice,” Mia said lightly, although the vision of stuffing Sabrina’s mouth with microgreens passed quickly.
Sabrina cocked her head and gave Mia a syrupy-sweet smile. “Busy week for you, huh? I heard you booked the Barton-Mercer party for Saturday.”
Mia blinked. “I did, yes. They reached out a couple of weeks ago.”
“Mm.” Sabrina wiped her hands on her apron.
“They reached out to me first. Asked for a tasting, menu ideas, the usual.” She shrugged.
“I figured we were moving toward a contract, but I guess they wanted something different or cheaper.” Her eyes flicked over the crate Mia carried. “Fresh. Rustic. You know how it is.”
“Oh,” Mia said quietly. “I didn’t realize they were talking to anyone else.”
“Technically, they never confirmed. Clients shop around. Who knows why they go for one or the other. Usually, it boils down to price.” She shrugged. “Good for you, though. It’s a nice event to land.”
“I’m sure they just changed their minds,” Mia said gently.
“Oh, I’m not worried,” Sabrina replied, though her eyes disagreed. “It’s good to know where clients land when options are on the table.”
The message was subtle but sharp enough to catch. She hadn’t stolen anything, just answered the phone. Still, Sabrina made it sound like Mia had gone behind her back and plucked the job right out of her hands.
After Sabrina left, Mia and Will picked the arugula, dill and the few edible flowers that were left.
By the time Mia got home, the air was thick with humidity. Her shirt clung to her back, and her head throbbed.
Her dad’s truck was parked crooked by the pond, tailgate down, tools scattered. Damn. What was Roy doing now? She already knew this wouldn’t end well.
She walked closer and spotted him, not laying the pavers like she’d asked him to handle but knee-deep in muck, hacking at a clump of cattails.
“Roy?” she called. “Please tell me you’re not doing what it looks like.”
He didn’t turn around. “Your dad mentioned the shoreline was getting overgrown. Figured I’d start clearing it.”
She came closer. “It is overgrown, but those cattails help stabilize the edge. And I needed the walkway started today. The pavers are still in the shed.”
Roy stabbed the rake into the mud. “I’ll get to it.”
“You said you’d start this morning,” she said, keeping her voice low and steady.
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “I’m helping. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“It is,” she said gently, “but hacking up the shoreline we need intact isn’t helping. The walkway is.”
He blew out his breath and shook his head. “Maybe if someone wasn’t always gone, I’d know what to prioritize.”
The comment stung.
“Roy, I am working,” she said. “I’m trying to keep everything moving so Dad doesn’t have to worry. I need you to handle the things we actually talked about.”
His jaw flexed. “Fine. I’ll start the pavers.”
“Thank you.”
Roy slogged out of the water and headed toward the shed, but not before tossing the dripping rake into the back of the truck.
Mia let the moment settle and then turned toward the barn.
Inside the kitchen was warm, sunlight streaming across the butcher-block counters.
The faint sweetness of lemon and yeast lingered in the air, making it feel warm and homey.
She set the crate of produce and bags of crabmeat on the counter and stared at them for a long moment.
Arugula, not microgreens, some dill and just enough edible blossoms so it looked finished.
But the good news was that she was able to get all the crab she needed. It only took driving to two stores.
She took a deep breath and started in on the creamy dressing.
A sprinkle of dill brought the dish together.
She picked through the crab, then added diced celery, minced dill, chives and tarragon and then folded the crab and dressing together.
It would be refrigerated until the party and served on tiny brioche buns topped with arugula.
Mia sighed with relief as she looked over the trays lined up and waiting.
She did it. Not perfect but finished. Better than she’d expected after the morning she’d had. That counted.
Her phone buzzed. Another message about Saturday’s event. She ignored it for now. She needed five minutes to gather her thoughts. Just five.
Now, all she needed to do was take a shower, pack up the van and drop off the food. The party wouldn’t wait. Life wouldn’t either.
But she’d keep moving. She always did.