A Haven on the Bay - Nicole Ellis Page 0,41

cakes, so they’d be properly frozen before serving tomorrow. They couldn’t do everything the day before the event, but the more they did do ahead of time, the easier it would come together the next morning. It would have been nice to have had Taylor’s help, but she understood he had other obligations.

At one o’clock, Libby and Debbie arrived, with Samantha hot on their heels.

Debbie took a deep breath. “It smells wonderful in here.” She gestured to the counter. “Is this one of the recipes out of that book you found?”

Meg nodded. “Taylor and I tried three things from the journal, and they were all excellent. I’m finishing up the prep for them and they should be fairly simple to put together tomorrow.”

Libby took a three-ring binder out of her giant purse and sat down at the table with it. “We’ve got a lot to do before tomorrow too.”

“I’m happy to help,” Meg said.

“Doesn’t Zoe need you at the Inn?” Debbie asked from the sink where she’d been washing her hands. She dried off on a paper towel and tossed it into the garbage, then came over to the counter to stand next to Meg.

“No. She said she and Tia had everything under control.” Meg uttered a self-deprecating laugh. “I think I just get underfoot when I’m there.”

Libby looked up from her notes. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh, but I think it is.” Meg laughed again, but, in truth, it bothered her that they didn't need her at the Inn.

“Well, we’re glad to have you here with us,” Debbie said warmly. She walked over to Libby and peered over her shoulder. “What’s first on the agenda?”

Libby flipped a page in her binder and scanned its contents. “This menu is heavy on hors d’oeuvres that we’ll put together right before the event, but there are things to get done today. Let’s get started with the deviled eggs.”

“I’m on it.” Samantha disappeared into the walk-in refrigerator and returned with two massive cartons of eggs. She set them down near the stove and filled a stock pot with water from the sink.

“How are you doing, Mom?” Meg asked. With everything going on at the Inn, she hadn’t talked to her mother since the family dinner on Sunday. Even then, things had been so chaotic that having a private conversation with anyone had been difficult.

Debbie looked up and shrugged. “I’ve been better.” Pink circles of blusher stood out from her cheeks in stark contrast to the pallor of the rest of her skin.

“Are you feeling alright?” Meg held her breath. Her mom had been so sick two years ago. Now, Meg panicked a little every time Debbie had even the slightest cold.

“I’m not ill, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Debbie poked her finger at something on the page in front of Libby. “I’ll get started on this.” She disappeared into the walk-in cooler.

“What’s going on with Mom?” Meg hissed to her sisters. “Is there something she’s not telling me?”

Samantha sighed. “One of her friends from her cancer group died.”

Meg felt a rush of relief, followed by a stronger wave of guilt. She was glad to know that her mom was healthy, but another family hadn’t been so fortunate.

Libby came over to Meg. “She’s taking it pretty hard.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Sam asked. “I wish I’d never told her to go to that knitting club meeting.” She removed a bin of flour from the pantry and slammed it down on the counter. Little clouds of flour dust floated off the lid, settling on all of the surfaces below.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Libby said.

“Maybe not, but then I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty. Mom’s down in the dumps now and it’s all my fault.” Sam swiped at the flour with a clean towel, brushing it into the trash.

Libby rolled her eyes. “Again, it’s not your fault. Not everything is about you.”

They’d obviously known about the death of their mom’s friend for a while, but nobody had told Meg about it. She lived above her parents’ garage and yet was the last to know. It seemed like she was always just outside of the loop for everything in her life.

Debbie came out of the walk-in, carrying an armful of produce. Meg and Libby helped her to unload it onto the counter, while Sam finished cleaning up the flour mess.

Meg eyed her mother. Should she say anything to her about her friend’s death? It didn’t seem like the right time—Debbie was smiling now, in her