ANGI’S PHONE VIBRATED on the kitchen table, and without looking at the home screen, she grabbed the device and shoved it into a drawer of the hutch that sat next to her chair.

“Do you think you should answer?” her mother asked, sipping her morning coffee.

“No.” Angi smoothed a hand over her hair, ignoring the trembling of her fingers. Trying her best not to think about how she was letting down her friends when they needed her most. “I’m going to make a smoothie for breakfast.” Maybe the noise of the blender would drown out the pounding in her head. “Would you like one?”

“Angela.”

She recognized the tone with which her mother said her name. The one that communicated clearly her disappointment and frustration. She’d heard it far too many times in her life.

“It’s fine, Mom.”

“Based on the way that drawer is vibrating, something is happening this morning that is not at all fine.” Her mother rose from the table. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Angi said as she took the blender out of a cabinet under the island’s counter. “I haven’t answered any of the calls or read the texts.”

“If you had to guess...”

She closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head. Why was her mother doing this? Bianca had wanted her to end her partnership with Emma and Mariella. To walk away from her work at the Wildflower Inn. So Angi had done it. But the only way she could manage it in her mind was a clean break. The plan had been to end the partnership at the end of the year, but managing everything had proved to be too much.

“They’re hosting a wedding today, the final big event at the inn before Christmas.”

“How many guests?”

“Around a hundred and fifty,” she said, drawing in a painful breath. It was the biggest event Emma had hosted this season. “The bridal party is staying at the inn. Over a dozen people.”

“And you were supposed to handle the food?”

Of course she’d been expected to handle the food. That was her part. The kitchen at the inn, with its granite counters and clean white cabinets, belonged to her. She’d helped create the design, and Emma had chosen the upgrades to the stainless steel appliances based on Angi’s preferences. She loved working in that kitchen.

“They know I’m not coming back,” she told her mother now. “I prepped as much as I could, and I hired Sarah Beth Catering to take over for me.”

“Her chicken tastes like rubber,” Bianca said with a sniff. “If I’m going to something where she’s catering, I’m sure to eat before I arrive.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Angi muttered. “That makes me feel a lot better about my decision.”

“No need for the sarcasm and sass, young lady.”

Angi threw a bag of frozen berries onto the counter with a thwack. “I’m not a young lady,” she said through gritted teeth. “Or a girl. I’m a grown woman, and if I don’t try to deflect with humor or sarcasm, then I’m going to burst into tears because I’m letting down people I care about. I’m letting myself down.”