Christmas Recipe for Romance novel · Chapter 23 of 24

Chapter 23: The Table

The street went quiet as Barton stepped between the candles.

He had put on his public face, the one with the warm handshake in it.

It did not fit him anymore, and everyone could see where it slipped.

"Friends," he said. "Neighbors."

Nobody answered.

"I'm sure everyone means well. But this is an unlicensed event on a public road, using recipes that belong to my family."

"I'm obliged, as chair of the Hall board, to ask you to disperse."

"It's snowing, Barton," said the mayor, from her folding chair, with a plate on her knee. "Snow emergency. Sit down."

"The fire chief will tell you this is a hazard."

"I'm eating a roll," said the fire chief. "It's a very safe roll."

A ripple of laughter ran down the double line of tables.

Barton's neck went red.

"These recipes are my mother's," he said, louder. "Every dish on this table is my mother's, and she is not here to give you leave."

"No, she isn't."

The voice came from the head of the table.

Ansel had put his blanket aside.

He stood up from the recliner in his white diner apron, with Abel's hand ready at his elbow and not touching it.

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