I typically do the morning and lunch rush because it’s so time-consuming, but I’ll help in the evening too if I’m bored. We have a short meeting, then I post the menu for the rest of the week so we’re all on the same page.

Jane and Sandra finish prepping as Donna and Becky start cooking. I go through the fridge and pantry and then write down what I’ll need to order next week. Just as I’m wrapping up my list, Grandma Bishop walks in wearing her million-dollar smile. Immediately, she opens her arms and pulls me into a hug. I’m pretty sure I’m her favorite grandkid.

“Maize, sweetie, I’ve missed you,” she tells me with a tight squeeze.

“I saw you Friday!” I remind her.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you,” she retorts, then pulls away and greets my employees. They’re old friends who chat about the weather and their grandbabies as they work.

Dad walks in, sees Grandma, and laughs. “Mama. Whatcha doin’ here?”

“I leave the house, and y’all act like it’s a Christmas miracle. I’m not that old yet. But since you’re so concerned, I was gettin’ ready for my quilt club meeting and wanted to stop by and see you two on my way out,” she explains, but her smile doesn’t falter.

“Checkin’ up on me, Grandma?” I ask.

She grabs my cheek like I’m five. “Always, dear.”

This causes Dad to let out a howl. “Maize walks a straight line, just like her father. Now, Kenzie, she’s a different story.”

“Okay, well, if I’m being truthful, I heard you were making double chocolate cake for dinner. I told Scott that sugar wasn’t allowed in the house anymore because it’s not good for our waistline. So, I thought I’d just grab a slice and be on my way.”

Dad snorts. “That’s cheatin, Mama.”

“No, no, it’s not. I said no more sugar was allowed in the house. The B&B isn’t home, is it? Technically, I’m still following the rules I set.”

I cover my mouth to hold back my laughter, then point over to the fridge where the five cakes are waiting.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” Grandma says, and it causes me to beam.

Dad just shakes his head. “Wait till I tell Dad about your little scheme.”

“You will do no such thing, John Joseph Bishop,” she warns.

“Oooh, Grandma just pulled out the middle name,” I quip.

Grandma lifts an eyebrow at me as she walks over and grabs a to-go box. After cutting the biggest slice of cake I’ve ever seen, she places a plastic fork in the container with it and then gives me a wink.