She also had a call from the garden club about catering a fundraiser tea and needed to reply to that.
For once, things were looking up in her professional and private life. Mia let herself believe that, just for a moment.
Roy’s truck was already parked in the drive when she headed to the barn.
Her heart sank the instant she stepped inside. That heavy, dropping feeling that hit low and fast.
Nothing was where it was supposed to be.
The tasting setup she’d asked Roy to stage was half done at best. No linen-covered tables. No labeled trays. No chafing dishes polished and ready. In fact, one sat crooked on the counter; another was still wrapped in plastic. The menu cards were missing entirely.
The space felt unfinished. Exposed.
“Roy?” she called.
He appeared from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. “Morning.”
“Morning,” she said, jaw tightening even as she kept her tone even. “I don’t see the tasting setup finished. The chafing dishes, the menu cards, the tables with linens. Was there a problem?”
He hesitated.
That pause told her everything.
“I thought you meant the coolers,” he said. “So I cleaned those instead.”
Mia closed her eyes. Counted to three. Then five. Just long enough to keep herself from saying something she couldn’t take back.
“No,” she said carefully. “I needed the room staged. I wanted to see how everything came together before the clients came by this morning.”
“Well, I can do it now.”
Mia sighed. Roy just wasn’t working out. She couldn’t depend on him to do simple tasks, and she couldn’t do it all herself.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll help so that it’ll get done faster.”
It took nearly an hour. By the time they finished, her feet ached and her shoulders were tight, but when Mia stepped back and took it in, she felt a flicker of relief.
Elegant but simple. Clean lines. Warm touches. Perfect for the small goodbye party they were planning.
Exactly what she’d pictured.
She crossed over to her barn kitchen and noticed a missed call on the landline.
Martha Langford.
Mia’s stomach clenched. Her pulse quickened. This was it. Her big shot.
Martha picked up on the first ring. They exchanged pleasantries, polite and practiced.
“Have you decided which menu you’d like to move forward with?” she asked.
There was a pause.
Silence.
Her grip tightened on the phone. Silence was never good.
“Mia,” Martha said carefully, “we loved your food. Everything was perfectly presented, and the flavors were exceptional.”
