His cheeks were pink from the cold, but he looked healthy—almost like his old self—today.
Noel chuckled. “Oh, I want more time to work on my cinnamon beet chutney.”
“Your what now?” I hadn’t seen that on the menu. In fact, the menu had been tested and retested. Noel was a perfectionist who wanted to leave nothing to chance.
“The idea just came to me last night,” he admitted. “I thought it would be a great addition to the?—”
“No more cooking,” Ed said sternly. “Santa says it’s time to take a break.”
Noel turned to his dad, fists on his hips. “I thought Santa was supposed to appreciate hard work from his elves?”
“Well, sometimes an elf burns himself out from working too dang hard, Noel. Santa wants his elves happy and healthy.” He glanced toward me. “Sometimes elves need to take time toappreciatewhat they’ve built together.”
My breath caught. He wasn’tsayinghe knew we were together, but there was a nuance to his words that seemed to suggest it.
Noel joined his father, plopping down on a hay bale. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m having fun. I’m in no danger of burning out.”
Maggie and I exchanged a skeptical look. The man took on life at one hundred miles per hour.
“Maybe you don’t see it, hon,” Maggie said gently as she took a seat on Noel’s other side. “I’m sure you work very hard in Chicago. But you’re not head chef here, and you don’t need toprove yourself by being the best or the hardest-working. We love you, and we love how invested you are in the farm this season, but itisyour vacation time, and you don’t get much of that. I worry you’ll be exhausted when you return home.”
Noel looked conflicted. “Uh, there’s something I haven’t told you guys.” He sent me an indecipherable look. “I’m not on vacation.”
“What do you mean?” Maggie asked. “You’ve missed weeks of work.”
“Did you get fired?” Ed asked bluntly. “They’d have to be fools to fire you.”
“Not fired, no,” Noel said. “My restaurant, the Orchid Room, closed down.”
Maggie pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, sweetie, no. What happened?”
“A lot of things.” Noel hunched forward, crossing his arms, looking even smaller than usual, and he was already elf-sized. “The owner and I didn’t see eye to eye. Let’s just leave it at that. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie said. “What does this mean for you?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I have to find another job when I get back. But that’s why I can stay awhile, and why I don’t mind working while I’m here. I don’t know how long it’ll take to rebuild my career when I get back, so…please, don’t worry about me burning out.” He laughed sadly. “Pretty sure you need a job for that.”
“You’ll find one,” I said gruffly. “You’re too damn talented for anything else.”
Noel met my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before now. Everyone here thinks I’m this great chef, and that felt a lot better than admitting I’d failed.”
“You didn’t fail,” Maggie protested.
“My restaurant closed down. The food critics ripped me to shreds before it happened. That’s the recipe for failure.”
“No, Maggie’s right,” I said. “You had a setback. You’ll get up again. It’s what you do, Noel. You take life, and you make it what you want.”
He gave a surprised chuckle. “That’s how you see me? I don’t think I’ve been doing much except avoiding my mess in Chicago.” He blanched. “Not that I think of my time here as a distraction or anything. I’ve loved having this time with all of you. I was so lost, and coming here, helping the farm, and holding this dinner party? It’s given me some purpose, you know?”
Noel’s phone chimed, and he checked it and smiled. “Donovan family just posted a selfie with the first scavenger item. They tagged the farm.” He held out his phone to his dad. “See? Free promo for the tree farm.”
“Such a good idea,” Ed said, beaming. “What would we have done without you this season?”
“Yes,” Maggie chimed in. “I know you loved your restaurant, but having you here has been such a blessing to us, Noel.”
I wanted to reassure him, wanted to show him how appreciated he was, but his parents had it covered. Besides, there were questions burning inside me that I really shouldn’t voice.
If you lost your restaurant, do you really have to go back to Chicago?
