Chiara nods and then she turns to our guests. “Do you know when you’d like to have lunch?”

Mr. Hardy is speechless for a second before he looks at his watch and then at Mrs. Hardy, who nods. “Um…in roughly two hours.”

“Perfect!” Chiara rattles everything off to her sister.

Once the call ends, Mrs. Hardy pats my hand. “You’re amazing…at this.” She motions around the inn.

“Thank you so much.” I can’t hold back my smile, and Chiara gives me a covert thumbs-up from the side.

The happy couple follow Emma, who’s making sure their bags are taken to their room.

“Another A-plus,” says Mr. Big once our guests are out of earshot. “Your mom will be proud.”

Dressed in his staple checkered black-and-white shirt and black suspenders, he looks at me over his glasses and grins. He sports a gray mustache and a beard that has more white hair than black while the apples of his chubby cheeks shine. I’ve always wondered what rejuvenating serum he rubs on his face to have such flawless skin. His answer—because of course I’ve asked—is always the same: good food and a happy mood.

“Are you really keeping a scorecard of how I’m performing this week?” I tsk twice. “I thought you were on my side, Mr. Big.”

“I’m always on your side, kid, and that’s why I’m following your mom’s instructions carefully.” He picks up a paper from his desk and waves it in the air.

I don’t know if he’s joking, but knowing my mom, it’s certainly possible he isn’t.

I raise an eyebrow. “I hope I’m doing okay.”

“You’re exceeding everyone’s expectations.”

My chest fills with pride and happiness as I leave for my office.

* * *

“Arianna told me that Mr. and Mrs. Hardy couldn’t stop raving about you.” Chiara picks up a nacho from the bowl resting on the balcony couch and dips it into the fresh guacamole I got from the inn’s kitchen.

“Yeah? That’s so nice of them.”

“Did they get extra attention because the man was a retired Marine?” A slow smile builds on her lips, and I quickly look away.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been besties since kindergarten, Auttie. I know all your secrets. Did you write to him recently?”

“Who?” I shrug, but as always, my heart has started to race at the subtle reference to him.

She chuckles, which I find equally frustrating and amusing. “You really want me to spell it out in clear words. Your husband, Mrs. Spencer.”

“Hey. Shush.” I quickly look around, making sure no one’s listening. Even though it’s already eleven at night and we have just two employees, including the night manager, it’s possible that some sleepless guest is strolling in the gardens.