One
“Wait…I’m confused. How can a house make you fall in love? I mean…is there something funky or magical about the house or is it just a family myth? Or is it some kind of Christmas magic?”
With a patient smile, Aspen Harris gave her best friend Gabe a gentle pat on the leg. “What do you think?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as his expression grew even more serious as he stared at the TV. “It has to be a myth,” he blurted out a few minutes later. “There are no little fairies flying around or anything sparkly in the air, and–if you ask me–it all just seems a little ridiculous.”
“Don’t look at it like that. It’s the magic of Christmas! Everyone knows that anything is possible during the holidays.”
“Only in the movies, Aspen. Real life isn’t like that.”
“Don’t ruin it for me. There are hundreds of movies about all the wonderful things that happen and people falling in love thanks to Christmas in a small town.”
“Trust me. As someone who grew up in a small Christmas town, I can safely say that these movies totally miss their mark. It’s not possible.”
Frowning, she gave him the side-eye. “So you’re telling me no one ever fell in love where you grew up?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying the town and Christmas have nothing to do with it.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she stated simply.
With a shrug, he stood up and walked into her kitchen. “Any chance you have any of your creations around to snack on?”
As a chocolatier, there was always something sweet in her kitchen. It was a passion that started back when she was in high school. After years of just making sweets for her friends and family, she went to school for it–which was where she met Gabe who was a film student doing a short film on the culinary department. They became fast friends and now, six years after graduation, they lived next door to each other in a small apartment complex in downtown Atlanta.
“There should be some in the tin on the island,” she told him.
There was some noise from the kitchen before he came back to sit beside her. “I swear, these are the best truffles I’ve ever tasted.”
Blushing at the compliment, she playfully nudged him with her shoulder. “You always say that.”
“And it’s always true. I don’t know how you do it. I think Angelo needs to give you a raise because no one else in this city makes desserts like you.”
The weary sigh was out before she could help it. “Yeah, um…I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Why not? The holidays are right around the corner and there are always a ton of requests for your creations for parties and gifts. He makes a small fortune on your chocolates alone.”
“Not this year,” she murmured.
“What?”
Turning her head to look at him, she sighed again. “Not this year.”
Gabe, with his dark hair and even darker eyes, looked at her with mild confusion. Placing the tin of chocolate down on her coffee table, he twisted in his spot to face her. “What happened?”
“I quit my job at Angelo’s.”
“But…why?”
Ugh…it was totally embarrassing and yet if she had to talk to anyone about it, it’d be Gabe. “Things have been strained at work for a while. Mainly because Angelo has a problem keeping his hands to himself.” She shuddered. “Normally I just chalk it up to him just being a touchy-feely kind of guy. But I started noticing that I’m the only one he does it to.”
“Aspen…”
“Monday when I went into work, he called me into his office,” she explained. “Once I sat down, he told me he’d like me to prepare dessert for a private party. And by private, he meant just him. When I said I wasn’t comfortable with it, he gave me an ultimatum–I could either fall in line and do what he asked or I could quit. So…I quit.”
She watched as Gabe’s expression went from confusion to disbelief to rage. Jumping to his feet, he stalked across the room and picked up his coat. “That’s bullshit, Aspen! I’m going to go down there and give that guy a piece of my mind! And probably a taste of my fist!” His hand was on the front door by the time she jumped up to stop him.
“Gabe, don’t! It’s not worth it! The job just…” Pausing, she shook her head. “It’s just not worth it. Besides, it will be my word against his and we all know how that goes.”
“You don’t know that. Have you talked to any of the other women? For all you know, this has happened before!”
But she shook her head. “I’m really only close to Joy–you know, the pastry chef. Angelo barely even talks to her so…”
“So? That doesn’t mean anything. There are other women who work there, Aspen. You need to call Joy and talk to her. Ask her to ask around and…”
“It won’t matter. He’s the boss, the owner. No one’s going to say anything bad against him and risk their job. Especially not at this time of year.”
“That’s no excuse,” he said with one hand still on the doorknob, ready to leave at any moment. “Someone needs to go tell him what a colossal jackass he is!”
As much as she loved how he was defending her, she had more bad news to deliver.
“Can we please just…sit down?” she asked, carefully leading him away from the door.
“You can’t possibly be okay with this,” he argued even as he followed her back to the couch. “What are you going to do? Have you started looking for another job? And…wait. This happened on Monday? It’s Friday, Aspen! You waited all week to tell me this?”
Wordlessly, she took his coat from his hands and patiently waited until he was seated and a little calmer. Taking one of his hands in hers, she gave Gabe a weak smile. “I needed a few days to come to grips with some things.”
His eyes went wide but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been here in Atlanta for several years and I’ve worked for four different restaurants.” She paused and forced herself to say what she dreaded. “Things just aren’t working for me so…I’m moving back home.”
“To California?” he asked with disbelief.
Nodding, she said, “Yup.”
“But…you can’t!”
“Can’t?”
Now he switched positions and gently clasped her hand in both of his. “Aspen, I get that you’re upset but…you can’t just give up. Plus, you’ve always said how much you don’t want to move back to California.”
“I know, but…I really don’t have a choice. I mean, I wasn’t making great money at Angelo’s but I was making enough to live on. Frugally,” she added. “And honestly, Gabe, I just don’t have it in me to start job hunting during the holidays. I’m sure I can find a temp job, but…” She shrugged.
“I get that but…any restaurant in the city would be thrilled to have you–especially now! I’ll bet if you put the word out, you’d have more offers than you know what to do with.”