Christmas Cakes and Kisses Read online

  “I called them up here,” Fourneir said, because I have a little surprise for them.”

  Morgan left her trance-like state then and the two ladies shot each other looks.

  “My restaurant staff and I are catering the charity Christmas soiree tomorrow afternoon after the auctioning of the trees. They’re going to be my sous chefs for the banquet, that will follow the more private auction of the cakes, that is, if they’re up for it?”

  “Yes chef,” Hannah said, her voice shaking.

  Morgan was a little slower to answer but she said yes too.

  “It’s settled then. I’ll give you two the details at the break. Now,” he said to the class as he motioned the two women back to their table, “let’s talk about some ideas we may be able to implement if the school’s students are invited back next year. Who likes Ms. Teeter’s idea of baking on site, a show of hands?” Several hands went up and he was off and running over that while Hannah and Morgan walked back to their positions in a haze of excitement and fear.

  “ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?” Morgan asked Hannah.

  The strawberry blond leaned back against the edge of the bathroom sink counter top and slouched a little. “I’ve been cooking for as long as I can remember. I’ve done restaurant work and catering jobs.”

  Morgan nodded and stared past Hannah into the mirror behind the sinks. “I’m nervous.”

  Hannah smiled. “You’re good Morgan. You’ll be fine. We both will. And, Chef Tomas will be there and some of his other staff.”

  Morgan faced Hannah then. “And you. I’m glad you’ll be there too.”

  Hannah did her best to control her expression, offering Morgan only a small smile. Instead, she cocked an ear toward the door. “It’s quiet out there now. Do you suppose everyone left?”

  “There wasn’t really any reason for them to stay tonight now that the assignment is over. I can’t believe he’s giving us a test on Tuesday.”

  Hannah shrugged the remark off. “At least it’s not some sort of crazy, long final that’s on paper instead of in the kitchen.”

  “True.”

  She couldn’t help herself. Hannah had to ask, “Is everything okay? You still seem sort of out of it. Is it...is it me?”

  Morgan shook her head. “No. It’s not you. It’s all this stuff with Frank. He calls and I ignore it but he’s been texting too. It’s just so hard not to read that stuff, you know?” She caught herself, “No. You don’t know. Sorry. I should probably go...”

  Hannah cut in, “I’m sorry for asking the question. I just...I worry about you.”

  The taller woman’s eyes shifted back, over Hannah’s shoulder, to the mirror. She drew in a big breath and let it out slow. “I’m a big girl. It’s about time I put on my big girl panties.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure what that meant. She started to ask when the jangle of Morgan’s cell interrupted her.

  “Oops! Thought I had that turned off for class.” She reached into the pocket of her uniform pants, drew it out and looked at the screen. “I have to go,” she declared.

  “Everything okay?”

  “It’s my mom. No time...”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Morgan shook her head. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes.” Hannah took a step toward the other woman and reached out to her, trying to pull her into a quick hug. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Morgan nodded and, without returning the embrace, turned on her heel. A moment later, she was out the door and gone.

  Chapter 18

  Sunday Afternoon, December 6th

  Muskingum County Convention Center

  “How are those mushrooms coming?”

  Morgan gave the pan another quick toss then looked over her shoulder at Hannah. “The last batch will be ready in about thirty more seconds, Chef.”

  Hannah grinned broadly. “Thank you, Chef.” She looked back down at the plate before her and arranged a spoonful of Brussel sprout halves on it just so then she followed suit with a dozen more plates.

  Morgan popped the gas burner off with one hand, took hold of the pan’s handle with the other and turned carefully with it as another of Fournier’s restaurant staffers passed between her and the work table Hannah was on the other side of. “Finished. Where do you want them, Chef?”

  “Go ahead and put them right on these fillets. Everything else is done and ready to go out as soon as they’ve cleared the salads.”

  “Lotta’ vegetarians in this crowd,” Morgan said, surprise edging her voice.

  “You aren’t kidding,” Hannah said as she laid a cover over each plate as soon as Morgan moved to the next one. “I worried when we pulled the hens and the fillets out. There are more than 200 people out there. We did 78 special diet plates.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  Chef Tomas stepped through the doorway, off to Morgan’s left. “Finished ladies?”

  “Yes Chef,” they both replied, out of habit.

  Hannah spoke up, “Everything is plated and marked for the servers, whenever they’re ready.”

  “They’re just finishing up the cake auction. I thought you might want to see this.” He tipped his head toward opening. “Your cake is up next.”

  “I thought they were already done,” Morgan said as she shot Hannah a pained look.

  Hannah spread her hands but moved around to the other side of the table and went to stand beside Chef Tomas. She sensed that Morgan came up and stood slightly behind her.

  “How many cakes to go?” Hannah whispered to the Chef.

  “Actually, they saved yours for last. Counting the one they’re wrapping up on, they’ve made a nearly five thousand dollars off of the eleven they’ve already done,” he whispered back.

  Hannah and Morgan both watched as the auctioneer moved from the far end of the row of cakes back up to theirs, the second cake from the top end.

  “Thank you all very much for your generosity,” the portly man bellowed into his microphone. “Now, for the final cake of the night, before we let you get to your dinner folks. This one’s special and in more ways than one. You’ve got your sculpted father figure and child, you’ve got all of these cupcakes to eat yourself or maybe even to share, and,” he paused for effect, “Mr. Michael Barnwell of Barnwell Incorporated has generously agreed to match the winning bid, dollar for dollar, up to $2,500.00.”

  The auctioneer held an arm out toward someone in the crowd that wasn’t in their view from their limited vantage point. People in the room cheered and clapped.

  “Who’ll give me $500.00 dollars to start?” the auctioneer called out.

  Hannah winced at the high starting price and nearly fainted when a woman’s voice called out, “$1,000.00 dollars!”

  “I have one thousand; who will give me two?” the patter began.

  “Fifteen hundred,” a man’s voice answered.

  “That sounded like Michael Barnwell,” Hannah whispered to Morgan who had drawn alongside her and clutched her arm.

  Morgan made a face. “On his own cake?”

  “Why not,” the Chef said.

  “I have fifteen-hundred; do I have two-thousand?” The auctioneer called out.

  “Twenty-five-hundred and make him match it,” a new male voice called back.

  “$3,000.00 dollars and I’ll still match my own offer,” Michael Barnwell came back. The crowd gasped and Hannah and Morgan grabbed onto each other tightly.

  “Ma’am? Sir?” the auctioneer called out. “We have a $3,000.00 bid with a match. Are there any more bids?” He paused and waited several seconds. “Going once! Going twice! Sold to Michael Barnwell for $6,000.00 dollars with his matching funds! That’s all folks!”

  The crowd whooped and hollered.

  Behind them, in the kitchen, servers started moving around, lifting trays, preparing to pour through the entries to the big conference room just beyond the kitchen. The three of them moved out of the doorway and out of the path of travel.

  “Unr
eal,” Morgan said. Hannah just shook her head.

  “Congratulations ladies,” the Chef told them. “Your cake was definitely a hit.”

  “That bidding...it was just crazy,” Morgan said.

  “I’ve been to a lot of auctions,” Hannah put in. “I’ve never seen anything like that; even with draft horses.” When Morgan gave her a puzzled look, she added, “Both are Amish things, trust me. The Amish never miss an auction, if they can help it, and nothing is worth more than a good draft horse.”

  “Chef?” a server called out.

  Fourneir looked his way but kept inserting his knives into their carrying case.

  “They’re calling for you and the staff out here.”

  “Please ask them to give us just a minute,” he answered. Looking at Morgan, he said, “Chef, would you go and get everyone that’s outside loading, please?”

  “Yes Chef.” She was off.

  Hannah kept scrubbing her work table.

  “You’re going too Chef Yoder,” Fourneir told her. “You and Chef Barber. You two were keys to this operation, this evening.”

  “Yes Chef,” Hannah replied as she dropped her rag into the bucket of sudsy water she’d been using.

  Once the staff had gathered at the doorway the three of them had stood in earlier to watch the final cake auction, Chef Tomas led everyone out. Applause broke out as the entire crew walked into the room. Hannah and Morgan, unsure, stayed together, near the back of the pack.

  A woman holding a microphone walked over to the chef. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce Chef Tomas Fourneir, Executive Chef and owner of ‘Tomas’, a brand-new French restaurant in Columbus, and his all volunteer crew for this evening, from his fine establishment.” Applause sounded throughout the room and people started getting to their feet.

  When the clapping gave way and the crowd resumed their seats, Fourneir took the microphone. “Thank you all so much. We were all happy to do this for the TWIG group this year to benefit the hospital and we’re even happier that you seem to have enjoyed the food.” He waved a hand to either side, “My staff.”

  The assembly clapped as the staff dipped their heads, smiled and waved.

  Fourneir started to give the microphone back to the TWIG president but she stopped him. Letting him continue to hold it but leaning into it, she said, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that it was Chef Tomas’s students from the culinary program at Zanesville Tech who baked all those amazing cakes over there that you all were salivating over just a little bit ago.”

  The crowd clapped again.

  “Didn’t you tell me, Chef,” she went on, “that two of your students from the culinary school are here assisting you tonight?”

  “That’s correct. In fact,” he turned and looked behind him, “the two students who are here are the duo who created the ‘Christmas Dad’ cake. They’ve nearly completed their coursework and they’ve served as my sous chefs for the evening.”

  “Bring them up here,” The President demanded, as the crowd leaned forward.

  Hannah and Morgan made their way slowly through the knot of cooks and servers to the front of the group to stand beside Chef Tomas.

  “I’m Marla Haines,” the woman took the mike back and introduced herself when they were in place, “the President of the TWIG group. I just want to say, on behalf of all of our volunteers and on behalf of the hospital, thank you!”

  Hannah blushed. Morgan looked down at her shoes.

  “I’m completely serious, ladies. What you two have done is record breaking for us. It’s our first year with cakes, but never in the history of this bazaar, have we had a tree sell for as much as your cake sold for tonight. Why, you had the hospital CEO, and the owner of Barnwell, a longtime supporter of ours, in a bidding war.”

  There were whistles from the audience.

  “Can I get your names and a little bit about each of you?” Marla asked. She held the mike in front of Hannah.

  “Hannah Yoder,” Hannah said. “I’m a mom and...and I just like to bake.” She shrank back, away from the microphone and prodded Morgan toward it.

  Morgan looked up and out at the tables in front of her as Marla stepped closer to her with the mike. At the front center table, seated next to his mother, was Frank Davila.

  Chapter 19

  “I...I’m Morgan Barber,” she choked out.

  “Don’t be shy sweetie. Speak up,” Marla told her in a stage whisper that the microphone picked up. Several people laughed.

  Morgan tore her eyes away from Frank. “I’m also a mom, like Hannah. I enjoy baking too but my passions are my daughter and cooking Italian and Greek cuisines.” She pursed her lips and fell silent.

  Hannah felt her friend tense up beside her and heard the quaver in her voice. She looked around, wondering what had her acting like she’d been spooked. Morgan was certainly the less shy of the two of them so someone she saw in the crowd had to have set her off, on edge. Hannah knew that much.

  She didn’t get a chance to ask. As soon as Morgan finished her short spiel, Marla thanked the Chef again and then he directed them all back to the kitchen. The taller woman turned on her heal and was off, picking her way through their little group while Hannah got stuck behind the gaggle of serving staff in no hurry to go back to loading trucks in the cold, night air.

  A voice came from just behind Hannah, calling up ahead, “Morgan? Wait!” Morgan slowed but didn’t turn. He called out again.

  Hannah stopped and turned around so abruptly, the man nearly ran into her. Morgan stopped too then sidestepped out of the way of the people behind her.

  Hannah eyed the fairly young man warily as Morgan came back, stopping next to her.

  Frank was animated. “Morgan, wow...just wow! Who knew? I’m so excited for you!” He took her gently by the shoulders and kissed her cheek.

  She drew away and gave him a cold look before turning to Hannah and saying, “This is Frank; Esp...Esperanza’s father. Frank, this is Hannah.”

  “Nice to meet you Hannah,” he said as he dipped his head in her direction before turning his focus right back to Morgan.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “My mom is the V.P. for the TWIGs this year but she comes every year. I came with her.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.”

  Hannah chimed in, “Sorry to interrupt, but we better get back and help with the cleanup.”

  Morgan nodded. “She’s right. Sorry Frank. Another time.”

  “Wait.” He put a hand out and touched her arm. “Can’t we talk for just a minute?”

  “Here?”

  “You won’t answer my calls...You’ll only text. I just want to know if you’ve given any more thought to what I asked you?”

  “This isn’t the place to talk about it Frank.”

  Hannah butted in again, “We really do need to get back to the crew.”

  Frank shot Hannah a look that Morgan, standing right there, caught.

  “She’s right. Don’t be rude and go off on her. Another time...maybe.” She turned away from him and started to leave with Hannah close behind.

  Chapter 20

  It was bedlam in the kitchen. The chef had brought everything from his new Columbus restaurant to the convention center except for the appliances and the dinner service itself. Hannah grabbed Morgan’s arm and dragged her down the aisle between the stoves and the work tables, to the walk-in cooler. It was still on and cold but now empty of most of the food that had been ordered for the banquet.

  She propelled Morgan inside and stepped in behind her.

  “What are you doing?” the taller woman demanded.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “So talk!” Morgan crossed her arms and stared at Hannah.

  “I know it’s cold in here,” Hannah began.

  “It’s not that. First Frank and now you.”

  “Me what?”

  “Trying to push me into something.”

  Hannah sighed.
“I don’t want to push you to do anything. I just don’t...I don’t want to see you let him push you into something I know you really don’t want. You told me yourself, being with him was a mistake.”

  “You don’t have to rely on a man to take care of you and Espy. You’ve done it pretty much on your own this far with hardly any support from him and very little from your mother. You have so much going for you...if only you could see what I see.”

  Morgan dropped her arms. Her eyes softened as she shook her head. “I just don’t get you. One minute you’re all shy and the next minute you say stuff like that.”

  Hannah glanced over her shoulder at the little window that looked into the cooler. It was steamed over. She reached out for Morgan and, hands on either side of her waist, pulled her closer to her.

  Their lips, already drying from the coolness of the walk-in, met in a brief kiss. Hannah tipped her head back and pulled Morgan into a long hug.

  When the parted, Morgan took a deep breath and confessed, “I’m so torn. I’m going crazy wanting out of my mom’s place but, deep down, I know you’re right. Being with Frank...that’s not the answer.”

  “We don’t have long until we graduate,” Hannah said.

  Morgan put up a hand to stop her from going any further. “I know. I know. I just don’t know that I can keep putting up with...with all the crap. The problem is, the only way I can afford to leave right now is if I quit school for a while and work full time. My mother’s disability pays some of the bills I’d have to pay out on my own.”

  “No, Morgan. No.”

  “There isn’t any other way.”

  Mel’s words came back to Hannah. ‘Morgan and her daughter are welcome here any time...if they need a break...whatever. Let her know that.’

  “Please don’t take this wrong.”

  “What?”

  “I told Mel and Dana about your daughter and your plans to find a chef’s position somewhere and move.”

  Morgan was silent.

  “They were very supportive. They like you and I’m sure they’ll like Espy too. And, Mel told me you’re welcome there any time.”