“Wait. What’s your plan?”

Plan. Right. Angi wished she had more time to come up with an acceptable alternative. “I’m going to turn the menu into a full-blown feast of my Italian favorites—and hope that the bride and groom are understanding if I give them a big discount.”

“How do you feel about my pierogies as an appetizer?” her mother asked. “I always have ingredients on hand.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mom. I can figure it out on my own.”

“I know you can, sweetheart. But I want to help.”

“Why?” Angi couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into her tone. “This is perfect for you. Even though I asked Sarah Beth to cover for me, I’m still the name on the contract. If Emma ends up with an irate bride on her hands, that’s on me. A fitting end to my attempt to do something on my own.”

“You’ll find a way to make it right,” her mother answered. “And I don’t want you to fail, Angela. I never wanted that.”

Emotion made Angi’s throat raw. That’s how it felt. Or at least it felt that her mom only wanted her to succeed with the parameters she set. She could succeed if it was safe and small, but not if it meant she might really fail. She’d tried to go big with her life, a disaster by any standards. How could she ever take that kind of chance again?

Now wasn’t the time to take a moral stand or allow her pride to get in the way. Saving the food for the reception meant she’d be saving Emma, so Angi couldn’t afford to refuse help from anyone. “The pierogies would be a huge help,” she said with a nod. “I’ll swing by the res—”

“You go on to the inn and start working things on that end. I’ll wake up Andrew, and we’ll meet you there.” Bianca picked up the landline that still hung next to the refrigerator, harkening back to a simpler time in communication.

“You don’t have to come. Who are you calling?” Angi pulled on her jacket.

“The more people you have to help, the better it will go. At least if they’re people who aren’t incompetent.” Bianca rolled her eyes and muttered in Italian. Mostly complaints about the stand-in caterer. “Dominic? Hello, tesoro. I know it’s your off day, but can you meet me at the restaurant? We need to help Angela with an event at the inn.”

Angi felt her eyes widen as a blush crept into her mother’s cheeks as she smiled at the longtime cook’s reply. Had her mother just referred to Dom as “treasure” in Italian?

That was a quandary for another day.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered as she headed for the door. She drove to the inn, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t let her friends down, but it was difficult to return knowing that it would only be to fix the mess she’d inadvertently created. Her mom had been right about Sarah Beth. The woman might own the only other catering business in Magnolia, but that didn’t mean she cooked innovative or even edible food.