The Christmas Cookie Grouch

By Markee Anderson

After NYC head chef Dave Rudolph is unemployed, he joins his sister for Christmas. He thinks he's above Vera Kringle's catered baked goods, so she nicknames him the Christmas Cookie Grouch.

When Dave needs a job, he has to beg Vera. Does Vera want to work with a grouch or lose customers because she's too busy? It's a tough decision, but it is Christmas, after all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Markee Anderson
• Release date: Dec 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781938350504

Markee Anderson

Writing is escapism, at its finest, for Markee. With three grown children (a son and two daughters) and their daily issues, she escapes by writing about other people's lives. It's like playing with dolls all over again--giving them a life, problems, a past...and it all happens in her head, keeping her entertained.See more at MarkeeAnderson.com. See all of her books (and all her pen names) at SweetTaleBooks.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The huge conference room was packed on that Tuesday night, with every member of the community in attendance. Bell City, South Dakota, was that type of town—a happening place. And since it was about a week until Christmas, it seemed as if everyone wanted to attend this most important meeting.

This year, Mayor Stevens continued. We want to welcome all newcomers to this town. On Christmas Eve, we’re going to have a free dinner for everyone who comes for the lighting of the tree ceremony, as well as other events like the hayrides. He pointed at Pastor King. The good pastor has agreed to use the downstairs banquet hall, and the members of the congregation will take care of all the cooking. Since it’s right beside the town square, it makes the most sense.

Vera Kringle looked around the standing-room-only gigantic room and saw knowing faces nodding in agreement. At least her catering company—Kringle’s Catering—wouldn’t have to cook for the free dinner. She was up to her eyeballs in work for the season, seeing no end to the job until way past January.

Mayor Stevens leaned closer to the microphone. We’re going to need help this year in making our town the most desired place to spend Christmas in America. We’ve asked Vera Kringle to help, but she’s got orders coming out her ears this year. If anyone else can help, please see me. I believe the church has space to make cookies, right? He looked over at Pastor King, who shook his head. No?

The pastor crossed his arms. No. We’ll be able to make dinner on Christmas Eve but last night, our ovens went out. We have a gas line issue and it may take a few days to resolve. We’re out of commission.

The mayor looked over at Vera. She felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a vehicle ready to mow her down. The mayor was going to ask her to do it, so she shook her head slightly. She just hoped he wouldn’t embarrass her publicly.

We’ll figure something out, the mayor said. And I believe the community center is a place we can store some of the items for the events. He looked back over at Vera. We need at least a thousand dozen cookies, we think. Ben Kringle told me he’s sold out in his huge hotel, and with the meals they’re making there for the guests, he’s going out of his mind.

Everyone chuckled, but it was no lie. They’d even called Vera for her to help with some of the meals. That was another reason she couldn’t make the cookies. She was doing the work for two big companies—hers and her parents.

Mayor Stevens continued. The local restaurants are gearing up, too, so I know you’re all busy.

Each of the restauranteurs in town nodded. Every one of them had used Vera’s services in the past, and she was certain they’d be calling her if they needed more help.

Mayor Stevens discussed a few more items, like parking lot overflows and how Santa’s Sleigh would be circling the town. There would also be a fun-run on the 23rd, so many roads would be blocked off.

He finally looked down at his list then glanced up at everyone with a smile. That’s almost all I have right now. One other note, my brother-in-law, Dave Rudolph, is in town from New York City. He pointed at a man standing off to the left of the stage, quite a few feet from the mayor. Please welcome him to town. He’ll be staying with us through Christmas, taking time to relax.

The man set his jaw and crossed his arms as he stared at the mayor. That was one unhappy man, so Vera nicknamed him The Grouch.

There are refreshments at the back of the room thanks to Kringle’s Catering, Mayor Stevens said. Have a great night and let’s hope we get through Christmas without a hitch. He turned off the microphone and Vera went to the back of the room. Her job had begun, to make sure all the cookies, hot chocolate, cider, and snacks were stocked while people enjoyed mingling.

There you are, Vera heard.

Vera glanced up to see Mayor Stevens stepping closer, with someone standing beside him. She couldn’t see who the other person was because she was working. Vera turned off the spigot from where she was filling a cup with hot chocolate. Sir? she asked the mayor.

Sir. The mayor chuckled. You can call me John and you know it. No one even had to vote for me because no one else wanted the job I have.

With a laugh, she handed him the hot chocolate and pointed to the items on the table. Marshmallows are there, as well as candy canes and whipped cream. She looked over at the man beside the mayor. Would you like some?

It was The Grouch.

The man crossed his arms. No. I’m sure it’s not real hot chocolate.

She shot him a nasty look, certain to make anyone cringe. But instead of backing off, he raised his nose as if superior.

Fine. Eat what you want. Vera went back to pouring hot chocolate. Her employees poured other drinks and set out goodies, but none of them spoke to The Grouch. The man walked away so she ignored him.

I wanted to talk to you, John said, in almost a hushed voice. Dave isn’t happy. He has a chip on his shoulder because he thinks New York is the only place to eat. He lost his job because the restaurant he worked in folded.

Vera kept working behind the table. The Grouch’s name was Dave. She remembered that part. He worked at a restaurant?

Yep. Top chef at Zuhys, some restaurant in New York City.

Zuhys was in Manhattan, but snooty as anything. Ah. I’ve heard of it and ate there once. Big prices, small portions. She’d never gone back because it just wasn’t worth it.

He chuckled. Yep. Anyway, he’s down on his luck. He really needs a friend right now. Can you help me out?

Vera looked up from her work, seeing the mayor practically begging for her help. I’m kind of busy this time of year. Can’t you pawn him off…I mean introduce him to some other single woman?

John laughed. You saw through my plan. He shrugged with a grin. Well, there are the O’Grady sisters.

Vera wrinkled her nose. They’re both like 80 and set in their ways.

John shrugged. There just aren’t many single women left. I’m sure the men are lined up at your door, anyway.

Just one and I don’t want him. She hated the man who wanted to date her. Gary Johnson should be shot.

Did I hear my name? The infamous sheriff stepped closer. Ready for our date yet? The man was young and not ugly, but Vera just couldn’t stomach his personality or his aftershave of what smelled like rotten skunk.

No date, sir, she said, and kept working. I’m a little busy right now, so choose your snack and be on your way.

He stepped closer. Is it time for me to raid your warehouse yet? He even winked, the rotten man.

No. That sounds like sexual harassment. I’m sure my lawyer will be happy to take the case, too.

Gary stepped back. I’m wearing you down. At least you didn’t call him on speed dial yet.

John sipped his hot chocolate while he laughed. Just remember my request, Vera. He walked away, leaving Vera with good old Gary. Dave was looking better and better, even if he was a grouch.

Chapter 2

Dave watched the caterer from across the room after eavesdropping on her conversation with his brother-in-law. The woman was gorgeous, but it looked like the sheriff—in full uniform—was hitting on her. She wasn’t happy in the least, even shooting the man a mean look with narrowed eyes, wrinkled nose, and a frown that should stop any man in his tracks. Dave was amused, waiting for her to stick out her tongue at the guy.

He studied the small perfect chocolate chip cookie in his hand. He’d grabbed one before he’d walked away from John, his annoying brother-in-law. Why his sister married beneath her and moved to this awful place was beyond him. Susan always was bringing home losers, and John was the type she loved—someone who had no future.

If only he had other family in New York, he’d have gone there for Christmas. But being alone in the big city with no job wasn’t going to work. He had to tell his roommates to find someone else, because he couldn’t afford the rent. He couldn’t even afford to eat in New York. The restaurant was raking in the bucks but didn’t pay the employees much more than the cost of living for Manhattan, which was outrageously expensive. Thus, Dave had packed up and driven to be with his sister in South Dakota, where nothing happened. He’d been scouring the help wanted ads for the entire nation, but no one seemed to be hiring someone with his background.

He was so frustrated, he bit into the cookie in his hand. When the taste hit his palate, he pulled the rest of the cookie from his mouth and studied it. This was homemade, tasting like something he’d get in a fine dining experience in Manhattan. It was light and buttery, with a definite French influence. He wondered who’d made it, tempted to ask the caterer. But he’d burned that bridge when he refused to taste the hot chocolate. If her other food was as good as this cookie, he was more than intrigued by her and her skill.

He really should talk to her; however, he was a chicken. He’d been burned by too many women who thought he was a snob. He didn’t want to repeat history.

Two older women were walking by, talking to each other.

Excuse me, he said to them. Can you tell me about that caterer? This cookie is delicious. He lifted the half cookie in his hand.

One woman smiled. That’s Vera. She makes all her own food and has studied around the world to become the best caterer around. We’re lucky to have her.

Around the world? Dave asked. It had to be in the states only.

The other woman leaned closer. Her grandpa was loaded. He left them a bunch of money when he died. Vera took her millions and studied in France somewhere to become a chef. Then she traveled from city to city, learning more. She’s been to all the big cities, working at the best restaurants, just to return here near her family to have that catering business. She’s hired a bunch of people in our town, just to keep the thing going. She looked at the other woman. Their daily food is so good, I go there just about every day, rain, snow, or shine. It’s the best place to eat in town.

Your husband has that restaurant, the other woman whispered. Don’t tell anyone you think that about Vera’s food.

But it’s good. If Ralph could cook half as good as her, I’d even eat at his place. She turned back to Dave. Try it. She puts out daily food for people to eat. That woman would make some man very happy but she can’t find a man. She pointed right at Dave. You’re elected. Make her happy because she can’t stand the sheriff, who’s the only single man around.

I see. And with that small bit of information, Vera just became the most interesting person in town. He intended to let her know who he was and how she could help him get a job. However, he wasn’t about to date her if he worked with her. That was a recipe for disaster.

The women walked away, discussing the non-cooking abilities of Ralph and how he should just close the shop and make it a tannery since the food tasted like leather.

After sticking the rest of the delicious cookie in his mouth, Dave made his way to the catering table. Vera was speaking to the guests with a smile, still handing cups of hot chocolate to anyone who wanted them.

I’ll take one, Dave said.

She looked up from where she’d been pouring the liquid into the cup. I thought you were too good for this stuff. You thought it wasn’t real hot chocolate.

He felt like a heel. I’m sorry. However, your chocolate chip cookie was outstanding. I’m just not used to small towns.

I heard. She continued to work. You were head chef at Zuhys?

Who told you? But he already knew. However, eavesdropping wasn’t a nice thing to do.

John. He said it folded. I’m surprised. It was one of the biggest restaurants when I was there. She held out a hot chocolate. Want this? It’s hot, I have to warn you.

Actually, I want to taste it. He took the cup. I judged you wrong. When were you in New York?

A few years ago. I worked at a small restaurant called Jydel, on Fifth Avenue.

Small? Dave chuckled and took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was delicious, flavorful, thick, and probably the best hot chocolate he’d ever tasted. Wow. That’s good.

She leaned closer. And homemade. No mix, but the real stuff. Just like the cookie.

And delicious. He paused and took another sip. Jydel is huge, by the way. What did you do there?

She grinned. I see you’ve heard of it. Well, I was their top pastry chef, landing that job after graduating from Le Cordon Bleu in France and graduating from the Culinary Institute of America in New York.

He couldn’t believe it. You have more education than I have. At least in culinary arts. Where else did you work?

She filled a few cups of hot chocolate, but people kept taking whatever she put on the table. Well, Jydel kept me in the pastry position, because I was good at it, but I wanted to learn more. She kept filling cup after cup. After touring Italy for a few weeks and working odd jobs in restaurants there, I went to work in San Francisco and learned more about sourdough bread baking. I stayed there for a year, then went to Hollywood, where I learned catering for the stars. She chuckled. That was a fun job.

Hollywood catering?

Yep. Different movie sets. I learned a lot about people there. I then went to work for a food truck in Portland, and even worked in Alaska at a huge hotel for a bit, to learn about different meats. After that, I went to the Biltmore Hotel in Asheville, North Carolina. I wanted to learn southern cooking. She frowned. That was a sad time, so I came here, worked with my parents for a while, and then set up shop. I’ve been doing big catering jobs ever since, from Montana to Nebraska, and even over to Minnesota. Most of my work is in South Dakota, as far north as Sturgis but mostly near here and around Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument, since they’re not too far away.

He couldn’t believe it. She’d done so much and she was so young. He’d love to learn more about her but he’d gone about it all wrong when he’d met her. He could tell she didn’t trust or like him, just from the way she talked to him. From what she described, though, the job he wanted to know the most about was the one in North Carolina. She seemed upset when she spoke of it, even mentioning it was a sad time.

He watched her work. I was wondering if you have any free time to talk to me, he said. I see that you’re really busy.

It’s my busiest time of the year. She paused. Actually, all year is my busiest time. I never have time off. But I hope you have a great vacation while you’re here. She moved over to see other guests.

He’d just been put off. He’d never had that happen before. He now had a challenge to get her to speak to him, which would be an uphill battle.

Chapter 3

Vera didn’t have time for snotty men and hoped she’d made it perfectly clear while being cordial. She worked for about another hour before things slowed down. When most of the people had left the room, she cleaned up with her employees. She wasn’t beneath any job and everyone knew it.

Even as she cleaned the tables, she knew she was being watched. It was more than irritating, and when she looked up, she saw Dave across the room, still drinking his hot chocolate. He stared right at her, making her angry. If he wanted to watch her, he could do it while helping her clean or something. He seemed to have this attitude of elitism, just ticking her off.

Once they took everything outside to the delivery truck and sent the guys back to the business, she came back inside to see the mayor. He was in a humorous conversation with two retired men from town.

Sir, she said. We’re done, so we can tell the front desk they can lock up now.

The mayor, still laughing, turned toward her. We can do it. Go home. Thanks for all you did. The city will pay you.

She chuckled. No, that wasn’t the deal. This is for our town, so no charge. She backed away, pulling her coat closed in the front.

He stepped closer, though, much to her dismay. Now that there aren’t as many people listening to our conversation, he said, as he looked around the room. We do need to talk about the cookie issue. Can your company help us out?

She sighed, knowing she had to help the town. Sure. I’ll do what I can.

Thanks.

Just add it to her ever-growing list. Have a good night. She turned and headed for the door. But as soon as she got into the lobby, someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see none other than Dave Rudolph beside her, appearing to be determined. The Grouch was about to make her night less pleasant; she could tell.

May I speak to you before you leave? he asked her.

I really have work to do. She shrugged from his grip. Good night. She took two steps away before he grabbed her arm once more. He was persistent.

I want to speak to you, he said. How do you do your job?

It was a simple question, but coming from him, the all high-and-mighty head chef, it seemed stupid. However, she had to answer. One cookie at a time. Does that help? She shrugged from his grasp yet again.

No. You’re so cool and calm when you have too much going on. I’ve been asking around about you and it seems as if you have at least 20 catering gigs going on at once.

That’s on a slow day. It was a joke, but he seemed to be surprised. Actually, we try to book no more than five on any day. Even that’s hard, because we also have a store front with meals for sale and go out to businesses to actually serve the catered food.

Do you turn customers down?

He was rather irritating. Like he cared? But she had to answer. No, but there’s only so much we can do. Sometimes, they reschedule the event to accommodate what we can do.

Do you need more help?

Something hit her funny, so she stepped