“His what?”

“Oh. It’s a Church thing. You know Mormon missionaries? Shirts and ties? Name tags? Bicycles?”

“Oh! I saw some over on Franklin Street the other day.”

“Right. You don’t get to choose where you go, so getting your mission call is a pretty big deal. A little like opening college acceptance letters, except you only get one, and it might send you to New Zealand.”

“Wow. That does sound big. Oh, look.” She pointed over my shoulder. “There’s Carlos now.”

I turned. “Carlos?” His hair was pulled back in the same ponytail he’d worn on the soccer field, but his shorts and jersey were replaced by a dark pair of work pants and a royal-blue polo, the Winding Way logo printed on the upper left corner.

He smiled. “Lane, from the soccer field.”

I shook my head, eyes wide with surprise, and crossed the lobby to meet him. “Would it be weird if I hugged you? I’m so happy to see a familiar face!”

He laughed and opened his arms for a hug. He looked at the name badge hanging around my neck. “You work here? Welcome to Winding Way. I can imagine you’ve had an overwhelming start.”

“To say the least,” I said. “It hasn’t been at all what I expected. I do have some questions for you, if you have a minute.”

“Sure thing. What can I do to help?”

“It’s kind of a long list, but let’s start simple. What do I need to know about the tent?”

Half an hour later, Carlos had sorted out the tent dilemma, solved my where-to-put-the-DJ-if-it-rains problem, and given me specific estimates of setup/takedown times for both the ceremony and the reception for the Smith/Callahan wedding. It was the happiest coincidence of my week—having yet another person at the inn rooting for my success, especially since Chef Gaspard still seemed bugged about the cheesecake invasion and was limiting his communication with me to nothing but grunts.

It also helped that Glenda called Wednesday afternoon and talked to me for ninety glorious minutes. Anything I hadn’t already figured out from her wedding file, she told me. In very specific detail. I went into the weekend feeling armed and ready to tackle the wedding like I’d been there planning from day one.

But nothing made my week better than Jamie. He texted me every day.

Questions about the wedding.

How’s it going?

Great.

Is Carlos being nice to you?

Always.

Questions about me.

Any pets?

Nope.

Where does your brother live? Is he married?

Not married. He’s a pediatrician living in Chicago.

Favorite food besides sushi?

Watermelon.

And my favorite question.

Can I see you this weekend?

Yes. Definitely yes.

We made plans for Sunday afternoon since the rest of my weekend was completely wrapped up in the Smiths and the Callahans and making sure Aunt Erma was seated comfortably in the fourth row.

* * *