So, Mrs. Whitman, is everything ready?" Grant stood under the archway dividing the formal dining room from the parlor, smiling that cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin Audrey adored. And had for nearly thirty-five years.

She went to lean on the column opposite him. She loved this view of the house—no, the inn. She must remember to refer to it as such. This wonderful house where they'd raised their five kids and where she'd played as a little girl had finally become The Chicory Inn. The stately home just a mile outside of Langhorne, Missouri, had been built by her maternal grandparents on a wooded fifty acres with a clearwater creek running through it. Now it was her fifty-five hundred square-foot dream fulfilled. Or at least that was the plan.

Audrey gave her husband a tight smile. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I just know I'm forgetting something."

"Come here." He opened his arms to her.

She stepped into his embrace, desperately needing the strength of him.

"Everything looks wonderful, and anything you forgot can't be too important. Just look at the weather God supplied—sunshine, cool October breeze, and the trees are at their autumn peak. Even the chicory is still in bloom in the ditches. Made to order, I'd say."

She nodded, feeling as if she might burst into tears any minute.

Grant pulled her closer. "Can't you just enjoy this weekend? It's no fun if you're in knots the whole time."

"Were we crazy to invite the kids home for this?"

He kissed the top of her head. "We were crazy to have kids, never mind five of them. But hey, look how that turned out."

"I wish your mom could've been here."

He cleared his throat. "Trust me, it's better this way. Besides, you know she'll find a way to get in her two cents, even from the wilds of Oregon. What do you want to bet she'll call, just as guests are arriving, to make sure you didn't forget anything?"

She loved Grant's mother dearly, but the woman did have a way of trying to run the show—even when it wasn't her show to run. Grant was probably right. Cecelia—or CeeCee, as the kids called their grandmother—had timed her trip to visit Grant's brother perfectly.

Audrey's cell phone chimed, signaling a text message.

"See?" Grant gave her an I-told-you-so grin. "There she is."

She checked her phone. "Your mother barely knows how to make a call on a cell phone, let alone send a text. Oh, it's Link. He's running late." She texted a quick reply to their son.

"Link late? Well, there's a huge surprise."

She laughed, grateful for the distraction. Their son was notoriously tardy. But after she put her phone back in her pocket, Audrey turned serious. "Oh, Grant ... What if this whole thing is a big fat flop?"

"And why, sweet woman, would it be a flop, when you've poured your heart and soul and passion into it for the last eight months?"

"And most of your retirement funds, don't forget." The thought made her positively queasy. It wasn't as if he could just return to his contractor job tomorrow and get back his 401K. "Not to mention a lot of sweat equity."

"And don't forget the blood and tears." He winked.

"And your blood pressure," she said with a look of warning. "How can you joke about this, Grant? What if we—"

"Shh." He tipped her chin and silenced her with a kiss.

She knew Grant had been relieved to get out of the rat race his job had become. In fact, his doctor had prescribed retirement along with the blood pressure meds he'd put Grant on last fall. The past year of renovations had been anything but relaxing, but things would settle down now that the remodel was finished. Maybe this was all a sort of blessing in disguise. She let that thought soothe her. For the moment anyway.

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be Corinne." She pushed away from him. "She promised to help me with the hors d'oeuvres."

"I don't see why we couldn't just have chips and salsa or pretzels or—"

"And don't forget your tie." Audrey scooped the despised noose, as Grant had dubbed it, off the end of the hall tree and tossed it at him.

He caught it and dangled it by two fingers as if it were a poisonous snake. "You're not really serious about that?"

"Serious as a heart attack."

Grant's grumbling faded behind her as she hurried to answer the door.

Their eldest daughter stood on the wraparound veranda with almost-two-year-old Simone propped on one hip.

"Corinne?" Audrey sagged. "I thought Jesse was going to watch the kids?"

"He is, but I think Simone's cutting teeth, and I didn't want Jesse to have to deal with that, too. You know how he gets when—" Corinne stopped mid-sentence and eyed her mother. "It'll be fine, Mom. Dad can watch Simone if we need him to."

"No, your dad has a whole list of things he's in charge of. I need him." She pushed down the resentment that threatened. "Never mind. You're right ... it'll be fine." She reached for her youngest granddaughter and ushered Corinne into the foyer.

Corinne walked through to the parlor, her eyes widening. "Wow! It looks gorgeous, Mom. You've been busy."

"I just want everything to be perfect. Just this one time." She didn't have to look at her daughter to know Corinne was rolling her eyes.

"Just this once, huh?"

She ignored the sarcasm and tweaked little Simone's cheek. "Are those new toofers giving you trouble, sweetie?"

The baby gave her a snaggletoothed grin and wiped her turned-up nose on the shoulder of Audrey's apple green linen jacket.

"Simone!" Corinne's shrug didn't match the grimace she gave Audrey. "Well, at least it matches."

Audrey did not find that amusing.

Corinne swooped in with a tissue, which made Simone screech like a banshee. Which made Huckleberry come running, barking as if he'd just cornered a squirrel.

Great. Just great. "Can somebody please take this dog outside? How did he even get in here?" Audrey hated raising her voice to her family, but she knew too well that the playful Lab could undo in two minutes everything they'd spent a week preparing. "I want him outside until the last guest leaves."

"Come here, Huck," Corinne coaxed, stroking the sleek chocolate-colored coat. "You bad boy."

"It's okay. I'll take him out." Audrey handed the baby off to Corinne, put Huck outside, and came back to the sink. Grabbing a damp dishcloth from the basin, she scrubbed at her jacket, exchanging the toddler's snot stain for a dark wet spot. She prayed it would dry before the first guests started arriving.

The clock in the foyer struck eleven, and a frisson of panic went through her. They had less than two hours and so much still to do. She heard Link's voice at the front door. Maybe she could enlist him to watch Simone for a few minutes. Like his brother Tim, Link had always had a way with kids.

"Hey, Mom. Dad said to report in." Tall and rugged-looking like his father, Link appeared beneath the arch of the kitchen doorway. "Smells good in here." He gave Audrey a quick hug before snatching a bacon-wrapped canapé from a silver tray. He popped it in his mouth before Audrey could protest.

She placed herself between her son and the gleaming marble counter full of food. "There are snacks out in the garage for you kids, but I'm not joking; this stuff is off limits until we see how many people...