“That it is.” Her shoulders slumped forward, and she sighed.

She looked . . . sad? No, sad wasn’t the right word. It didn’t feel potent enough to fully encapsulate everything she’d been through the past week. “You know,” I said slowly, “you could if you needed to.”

“I could what, dear?”

“Have a good cry. I would stay. And listen.”

She gave me a long, hard look. “I like you, Lane. I’ll remember that.” She patted the sofa between us. “Now. What brought you back to see me?”

I opened the binder. “I’ve been studying up on the Smith/Callahan wedding. It’s happening this weekend, and there’s a line here in the catering notes I don’t understand.”

She reached for a pair of glasses sitting on the table beside her and put them on. “Let me take a look.”

“Right here.” I pointed to the note in question.

“‘Cheesecake from Joni,’” she read. She looked up. “Did I write that?”

“April said it’s your handwriting. Any clue what it might mean?”

She pursed her lips, her brows drawn together, then frowned. “‘Cheesecake from Joni.’ I feel like I should know exactly what it means. Give me a minute.” She flipped back to the beginning of the binder. “Is there a photo of the couple?”

“On the first page—right. You found it.”

She tapped her finger on the photo. “Okay. It’s coming back to me. I remember this bride. She’s lovely, but her mother is a walking nightmare. You’ll have to keep a close eye on her. Joni—she’s the bride’s sister. She wanted to make the entire wedding cake, but her sister wouldn’t have it because Joni is also the matron of honor and will have plenty of wedding stuff to do without worrying about the cake.”

“So the cheesecake is some sort of compromise?”

“It’s the groom’s cake. Little individual muffin-sized cheesecakes with chocolate top hats on each one.”

“Sounds adorable.”

“And delicious. She brought one by for us to try. I thought Glenda was going to cry, it tasted so good.”

“Okay. So, she’s going to bring them by the inn . . . when? Do we know that much? Or is there a number where I can reach her to coordinate?”

“Try looking on the bride’s profile sheet. She should be listed with the wedding party.”

I flipped to the right page. “Yes, got it. She’s right here. Okay. I’ll reach out to her and make sure everything is all set. What about Gaspard? He didn’t seem to know anything when I asked him about the note.”

Ida frowned. “Oh . . . Gaspard. That was supposed to be my job before . . . well, when Thornton . . . I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Whatever it was, I’m sure I can handle it.”

She shook her head. “My, we’re giving you a first day you won’t forget, aren’t we?”

I laughed. “It hasn’t been all that conventional. I’ll say that much.”