Heather Horrocks - Who-Dun-Him Inn 01 - Snowed Inn Read Free

for a large group?”
    “Well, you never have. At least she has experience. Besides, how hard could it be? You’re just like Mom, which means you already have all the meals planned, and that’s the hardest part.”
    I glanced toward the kitchen. “I don’t know. She seemed pretty ticked off.”
    “That’s just for show; you know that. I’m sure you can sweet talk her into it.” She motioned toward the kitchen. “I’ll go with you.”
    Okay. I could do this. I could convince Grandma to cook for me. Liz was right. Grandma was the least senile person I’d ever met. So, of course she could cook for me. If she just would.
    If she was in one of her persnickety moods and said no, I’d beg her. Grovel . On my knees, if need be.
    How my perspective had changed since they first arrived and I decided to oh-so-generously give them five minutes. Now I was thankful that Grandma knew how to cook while Liz could help me serve. Between the three of us, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. “Thanks for being here.”
    “Do you honestly think I’d miss your grand opening weekend? What kind of older sister do you think I am?”
    “Seven minutes older is all.” I sighed. “And if I can’t talk Grandma into cooking, seven minutes is as long as my grand opening might last.”

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
    “Come on, Charlie. Here, boy.” My seven-year-old son, Zachary, skittered down the main staircase, calling to his invisible dog. When he saw Liz, he whooped in delight. “Aunt Liz!”
    Liz hugged him tightly. “Who’s my favorite nephew?”
    “Me!” His eyes sparkled. Out of our fifteen nieces and nephews, Zach had a special place in Liz’s heart, maybe because, as my twin, her own child might look just like him.
    He was the one difference between our seemingly identical bodies. It took me a year to get pregnant during my marriage, but Liz hadn’t managed it in three years of trying with her hubby, Gene. We were definitely falling down in the big, Mormon family department, but our parents did their part, and four of our other five siblings followed suit. In addition to the fifteen nieces and nephews, Paul’s wife was expecting their third any moment. My sister, Georgia, didn’t have children, which was probably a good thing, given the wildest of her ways: nurse by day, party animal by night.
    “Hi, squirt. Is Charlie behaving himself in the house?”
    “Yup, Mom. He’s sitting by the parlor door.”
    Tamping down the agitation over my problems and the approaching arrivals of my guests, I glanced over at the invisible pet— the best kind, in my opinion— that followed Zach home the day after his father’s funeral. Now my son used Charlie in his attempt to talk me into getting him a real dog. “Good.”
    “Hey, Mom. Do you know where my trading cards are? I can’t find ‘em.”
    “Nope. Haven’t seen ‘em.” I ran a hand through my son’s slightly shaggy hair— I really needed to give him a haircut — and my eyes swept the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose. I couldn’t help smiling. “Cute freckles.”
    “Aw, Mom, I hate freckles.”
    “Yeah, well, girls think freckles are cute,” I teased.
    “I hate girls, too,” he said, though some of his best friends were cute, little girls. “Remember?”
    In that instant, although Zach got his freckles and brown eyes from me, he looked like a miniature seven-year-old version of his father, sporting Robert’s determined chin and narrowed gaze. My heart skipped a beat. I forced my thoughts in another direction. I couldn’t go there. Especially not today, when I needed to make sure everything went well.
    Shaking out of my reverie, I told him, “I’ve got to ask Great-Grandma a question, squirt.”
    “Grandma Ross is here? Where?”
    “She was heading for the kitchen a few minutes ago.”
    He dashed toward the saloon-style doors of the kitchen. An unfamiliar beeping stopped me, and it took a second before I remembered the new walkie-talkie Kent