16. Maeve #2
Dessert arrives as a grand finale. There’s delicate apple pie with a lattice crust that’s clearly been made by a master baker, accompanied by individual chocolate Bundt cakes that look almost too beautiful to eat.
When I cut into mine with my spoon, molten peppermint filling spills out in a river of festive perfection.
The cake itself is rich dark chocolate with just enough bitterness to balance the creamy, cool filling—a symphony of flavors that makes me want to weep with joy.
I have to convince the chef to share these recipes. Someday, when I have my own place, I want to be able to recreate magic like this.
“Eggnog?” The female server appears at my elbow with a crystal pitcher that catches the chandelier light.
Hayden covers his glass with one large hand, shaking his head. She pours for Elaine, then Gabriel, each serving precise and elegant.
“Yes, please!” I hold up my glass eagerly. “Eggnog was actually the first alcoholic drink I ever tried—it seemed like a safe entry point, you know? Like a grown-up milkshake. Maybe it’s the Christmas fanatic in me, but I genuinely love the stuff.”
I take a sip, savoring the rich creaminess enhanced with what tastes like real vanilla and a hint of nutmeg. It’s like drinking liquid holiday magic.
“Actually, could you bring that back?” Hayden’s voice stops the server mid-retreat. “I’d like some after all.”
I watch in confusion as he accepts a half-glass and takes a deliberate sip, his face immediately scrunching in distaste. If he doesn’t like eggnog, why on earth would he order it after initially refusing?
“Now, Maeve,” Elaine’s voice cuts through my puzzlement, and I nearly send eggnog flying as I startle. “I hope you’ll tell me more about yourself. We haven’t really had the chance to get to know you properly.”
The careful phrasing hangs in the air like a diplomatic way of acknowledging that Liam never brought me around during our relationship. Everyone suddenly becomes very interested in their desserts, forks and spoons providing convenient distractions from the awkward truth.
“Please, tell me about your interests,” Elaine continues with the grace of a woman who’s spent decades navigating social minefields. “I hope my son doesn’t work you too hard—surely you have a life beyond being an assistant?”
“You’d be surprised,” I say dryly, shooting Hayden a pointed look.
Hayden raises his eggnog in a mock toast, then downs the entire remaining contents in one go. He immediately grimaces and coughs, looking like he might be regretting his life choices, while I grin in vindicated satisfaction.
“I’m actually passionate about cooking,” I say, turning back to Elaine with renewed enthusiasm. “Everything we’ve had tonight has been incredible—I’d love to get the recipes from your chef if that’s possible.”
“For the entire two years she’s worked with us,” Gabriel adds with what sounds like genuine admiration, “Maeve has brought in the most amazing homemade treats every day during the holiday season. The whole office waits for her latest creations.”
“Ford’s the worst, hoarding them all for himself,” Hayden contributes, having recovered from his eggnog misadventure.
My cheeks flame with the unexpected praise from all three men. I don’t know what to do with this level of public appreciation—it feels about as foreign as if they were all speaking a different language.
“She’s an incredibly talented baker,” Ford agrees, a note of pride in his voice. “Everything she makes is extraordinary.”
“My driver has literally begged me for her lemon bar recipe,” Hayden adds.
I’m pretty sure my face is now the approximate color of a fire truck, but I can’t seem to care. Having these three powerful, successful men praise my work so effusively feels better than any performance review.
“How wonderful!” Elaine sounds genuinely delighted. “Is it just a hobby, then?”
“Oh, no—I mean, it is a hobby right now, and I do love it like one. But my ultimate dream is to work professionally in the culinary world. I actually went to culinary school while completing a double major in undergrad.”
“A real go-getter, just like Ford!” Her smile widens.
“No wonder you two found each other. Do you hope to open your own restaurant someday? I’ll admit I don’t know much about the industry—it’s why I’ve always relied on hired chefs—but my understanding is that most culinary professionals aspire to their own establishments? ”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want,” I admit, getting swept up in talking about my dreams with someone who seems genuinely interested. “I’m hoping to apply for a business loan sometime next year.”
“You haven’t applied yet?” Charles frowns. “If I recall correctly from what Liam mentioned, you would be twenty-seven now, yes?”
There’s something in his voice—the same condescending undertone I’ve learned to recognize from Ford when he’s trying to get under my skin—that ignites that familiar fire in my chest. Before I can think better of it, the words come tumbling out.
“Trust me, I would have applied years ago if circumstances had allowed it. Unfortunately, my student loans left me with substantial debt, and a family member destroyed my credit by opening accounts in my name. I’ve been working incredibly hard to pay it down and repair the damage, but I won’t be in a position to qualify for a loan until I finish clearing it later this year.
But don’t worry—it’s definitely happening soon. ”
I deliver this with a smile sweet enough to cause cavities, and I catch Gabriel and Hayden exchanging a look of what appears to be approval, like they’re proud I stood up to Ford’s intimidating father.
Lydia, however, blinks in obvious confusion. “You’re in debt? How much debt?”
The question lands like a bomb in the middle of the elegant dining room. Silence descends so I can hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway. My moment of triumph at defending myself evaporates instantly, replaced by a crushing wave of mortification.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly desert-dry. “Um. It’s… significant.”
All three of my bosses pin me with sharp, searching looks that make my stomach plummet toward my shoes. I’m suddenly grateful I finished my dessert, because there’s no way I could manage another bite with this level of nausea rolling through me.
I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I blew it by casually mentioning my financial disasters in front of Ford’s wealthy family, like some kind of cautionary tale about poor money management.
Shit .