My North Star Rising

ination for the Golden Whisk!" Paris. My dream. The Cordon Bleu. It was all happening

zzed. Ethan

ia, tha

wrecked, thi

what's

ineyard. We're going to lose it. The cre

alley, gone. I could hear the

what to do, Mi

g, ambitious boyfriend, the heir he

isk, Paris...

I'll be on the next

ould?

I would. I

hip application, a dull ac

ional airport, not in his usual p

good car," he mumble

ty, sun-baked town in the Central Vall

right now, Mia. Until I

efeated. I hug

ough this, Eth

gruff man Ethan said was a family friend doing him a favor, hired me as a line cook. Double shifts.

ed coffee. Every spare cent went into a battered shoebox

ce is a d

bring home i

ing to have rea

ayers of grease and exhaustion. The $50,000 goal was