“Of course, Holly. Now that I know you need pops of color, I’ll drive to the florist myself and hand choose what we need. No worries. When you walk into this room tonight, it will be the reception of your dreams. Okay?”

She jutted out her chin and crossed her arms. “I certainly hope so.” With that, she turned to walk away. Kate started to raise her arm up to give her a special hand signal, but quickly thought better of it. Holly suddenly turned back around. “Oh, and please make sure the food gets here on time, but not too early. I don’t want the stuffed mushrooms to be cold and mushy.”

Holly walked out of the hall, her heels clicking across the hardwood floor. As Kate looked around at her handiwork, she was proud of what she’d done, but apparently her client didn’t feel the same.

Mia stood in the middle of the kitchen, her mother’s recipe cards spread across the island. Today, she was making her hash brown casserole, complete with real chunks of bacon. Guests always loved that for breakfast, so she’d gotten up early to make it since she had several new guests coming that morning.

She ran her finger across her mother’s beautiful handwriting, her eyes welling with tears. It had only been a couple of weeks since Charlene had passed away, but to Mia everyday felt like a long, slow slog up a hill of quicksand. She missed her mother with every fiber of her being.

Not all kids had grown up with such a great mother, but Mia felt she’d been blessed. Charlene had experienced a rough upbringing herself, something she didn’t talk about much. But her inner strength in raising Mia had always been apparent. At thirty-four years old, Mia hadn’t found Mr. Right, so she’d never been married or had kids. Alone in the world now, she felt like an orphan and wished she had someone to turn to in times like this.

Friends and guests were great, and she adored them. But she wanted someone who shared her blood. Her genes. Her very life force. And now that her mother was gone, she would never have that. She would spend the rest of her life as the only one in her line of Carters. She sighed and tried to pull herself out of the funk she was in.

“Morning, Mia,” Dr. Allen said as he walked into the kitchen. He came to stay at the B&B with his wife a few times a year. They lived in Atlanta, so not very far away, but they loved the seclusion and atmosphere around the bed and breakfast.