I loved calm, sensible Meri, even if sometimes she was too sensible.
Kitty burst in last, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair slipping loose from the clip she had clearly forgotten existed the second she put it in.
“You aren't going to believe what I just finalized,” she said, breathless and delighted, her excitement spilling into the room like it had nowhere else to go.
I felt the first flicker of unease then. Small but insistent. Kitty only used that tone when she had already decided something and didn’t intend to reconsider it.
“What did you finalize?” Mom asked, leaning forward with interest.
“A wedding! At the inn!” she gushed.
I set down the pan onto the stove a little more carefully than necessary, my fingers lingering on the edge as though the contact might anchor me.
“A wedding,” I repeated, testing the word to see how it felt. Hopefully it was far in the future. We weren’t ready for big events.
“Yes. A big one. Well, medium big. But with staying guests for a whole week which will make us good revenue.” She waved her hands as if the details were decorative instead of structural.
“A week,” I echoed.
“Yes. They loved the idea of making it a whole experience. A cozy, intimate wedding at the SnowDrop Inn.” Her smile widened.
Mom’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
William took a thoughtful sip of coffee, his expression neutral but attentive.
“When?” he asked.
Kitty’s smile widened further.
“In a couple of days.”
The kitchen felt smaller all at once, as though the walls had shifted inward without warning. The hum of the ovens seemed louder, closer.
I stood very still and let the information settle. A week of guests, in December, at an inn where we had never hosted Christmas before, let alone a wedding layered neatly on top of it.
My mind began moving faster, skipping ahead in careful, frantic steps. Were there enough renovated rooms? What about our current guests? Just what sort of menu were the bride and groom expecting?
“There will be a bachelor party,” Kitty added helpfully. “And a bachelorette party. The rehearsal dinner, plus obviously the wedding itself.”
“Obviously,” Lydia said, delighted, already typing something into her phone.
I nodded slowly. Weddings happen every day. Kitchens handled worse. This was a lot, but it was still a problem with components, and components could be managed if I prepared properly.
I cleared my throat.
“Who is catering?” I questioned, keeping my voice even.
Kitty waved a hand. “We are.”
I waited for the rest of the sentence. When it didn't come, I tried again.
“And the cake?”
“We are,” she repeated, smiling as though this were not news but confirmation of something already agreed upon.
Something inside me slipped. It was the quiet realization that everyone in the room had already decided I would take this on, and I hadn't been consulted because I had never once said no.
I adjusted my apron, grounding myself in the familiar weight of it. Or perhaps I was just hiding behind it. I was disappointed, but I also knew that I wouldn’t say no. It was hard to say no when the people around you were a force to be reckoned with.
