“Then let’s get to work, ladies.” Her shoulders relaxed as she stepped forward.

Maybe she’d have to give up her catering business and her work at the inn eventually, but not tonight.

CHAPTER THREE

THE WEDDING AND reception were beautiful, or at least that’s what Angi heard from Emma and Mariella. They texted updates throughout the day and into the evening, several messages in all caps with quotes from guests praising the food.

Angi hadn’t seen any of it. She’d stayed with her mother, who, after several weeks of improvement, had started feeling weak and dizzy midmorning on Saturday—right after Angi told her about the late night in the Wildflower Inn kitchen and her plan to stop by the event on her way into Il Rigatone that afternoon.

Her mom had gone quiet as she diced tomatoes for the lunch salads she complained about every day. Seconds later, the knife had clattered to the floor as her mom clutched the edge of the counter.

Angi had phoned the on-call cardiologist, but her mom insisted she just needed rest, and the doctor agreed that she should be monitored at home. So they’d gotten her to bed, and Andrew had climbed in next to her to watch the home improvement shows they both loved.

It had been simple enough to avoid a food catastrophe with the help of her friends the night before. Angi had actually had fun staying up into the wee hours remaking the appetizers for the wedding reception. She felt strong and capable while creating her own recipes and dishes in a way she never had in her family’s restaurant. She refused to think about the timing of her mother’s setback, although it was no secret that Bianca had been angry and hurt when Angi quit her job at Il Rigatone over the summer to work full-time with Emma.

Surely she wouldn’t scare Angi half to death by faking not feeling well?

In truth, it didn’t matter. Angi might have entertained the idea of returning to the inn after her mom was fully well, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t going to work. Bianca needed her. Both Angi’s brothers had their own lives, and after her father’s death ten months ago, Bianca had come to rely on Angi even more.

She owed it to her mom for all the ways Bianca had supported her, even if it meant giving up her dreams to do the right thing as a daughter.

Neither Emma nor Mariella had responded directly when Angi messaged Sunday morning congratulating them on another successful event and reiterating the fact that, after the holidays, she’d be focusing solely on the restaurant. Emma had sent a blue heart emoji and Mariella a GIF of some reality starlet rolling her eyes.

But Angi had no other choice. None that she could see anyway.

“Angela?”

She hurried down the stairs from her bedroom at the sound of her mother’s call. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she rushed into the family room. Andrew glanced up from where he sat cross-legged in front of the coffee table contentedly building some sort of new Lego creation.