accented by Sadie’s extensive collection of Blue Willow china and her nineteenth-century pastoral prints. Tall windows draped in navy velvet brought in the midspring morning sun and the heady scents of a freshly watered garden that was already riotously in bloom. In the distance, Blue Lake shimmered with the breeze.
All her life Sadie had dreamed of running such a fabulous inn. Maybe the desire had arisen from watching too much of that old nighttime TV soap Hotel, but years later, when their grandmother died and left Sadie the means to not just work in a country inn but actually own one, she’d jumped at the chance.
And jumped and jumped to restore the faded Queen Anne property to its former glory. Five long years later, sweat equity had turned the inn, an hour south of St. Louis, into the ultimate in refined elegance.
“All right then,” Sadie said, not sure her sister Sarah realized the gravity of this situation. “If you truly have been paying attention, name it.”
“What?”
“The difference.”
“In what?”
“Meringue,” Sadie said, slapping her palm on the linen tablecloth. “Meringue, meringue, mer—”
“Chill,” Sarah interjected. “Seriously. Your second-in-command will soon be here, hovering over me with her beady eyes.”
“Helga isn’t the least bit ‘beady,’ in fact, she—”
“Relax. When it comes to supervising me in your sainted kitchen, she’s not only beady-eyed, but she’s got that creepy stare that she does. As an added bonus, she’ll keep all of your other worker bees in line, too. And on top of that, you’ve laid in enough frozen dinners and pastries to feed ten times the amount of guests you’re expecting.”
“Yes, but…”
Sadie’s twin sighed, then reached for her hands, giving her icy fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I know how much this weekend with Trevor means to you. Trust me, I do. Otherwise you’d have never in a million, trillion years entrusted me with this pile of wood and bricks that you’ve made your life’s work.” Releasing her hands from Sadie’s in order to raise her right one, Sarah added, “That’s why, as my most solemn oath on the Royal Order of Cookie Thieves, I hereby promise to make each of your guests this weekend fall wholly, completely and madly in love with your inn and also you.”
Sadie’s throat tightened at the reference to the to secret club she and her twin had formed back in fourth grade for the purpose of launching stealth missions to nab the heavenly cookies their mother baked for wealthy St. Louis clients. Whereas Sadie had taken after their mother, Sarah had chosen their father to look up to and was now climbing a corporate ladder instead.
“Well…” Sadie said, biting her lower lip. “I very much want everyone to adore the inn, but they don’t particularly even need to like me—just see that I run a tight ship. And you know there’s still a chance the Zodor’s reviewer could show. Otherwise I wouldn’t have needed to involve you. But if by chance he or she does make an appearance and I’m not here…”
“Gotcha,” her twin said, executing a saucy salute.
For the umpteenth time since Sadie had formed the plan that would—if all went well—allow her to be in two places at once, she actually dared a normal breath.
For nearly two years now, she’d been engaged to Trevor.
The man was tall, dark, handsome and charming and yet he seemed utterly incapable of setting a wedding date.
Which was why, when he’d accused her of being responsible for the holdup on their trip down the aisle, she’d agreed to give up minding her inn this weekend and accompany him to his sister’s wedding in Tulsa in exchange for his promise to set a wedding date of their own. Sadie had to take the chance.
In Trevor she would have the perfect husband, as well as a superb host for her guests. Gorgeous, easy to talk to and successful in his own right, Trevor was a great catch. As much as she loved her inn, she loved Trevor even more. Otherwise she’d have never asked her twin to agree to such a drastic stunt.
For most inns—most innkeepers—it wouldn’t matter if they took time off even while they were being reviewed. But Sadie had worked so hard to get where she was and she took great pride in personally greeting each guest.
Granted, they probably didn’t care quite so much if they met her, but she did.
On each bit of advertising was a likeness of Sadie, promising guests that she personally guaranteed they’d enjoy their stay or she’d gladly refund their money. And now, with the chance of being reviewed by a national publication in the wind, there was even more than usual at stake.
Bottom line, she wouldn’t have a bit of fun with Trevor if she spent her time worrying over whether or not her inn’s reputation was suffering due to someone feeling they hadn’t received top-notch personal service.
As for Sarah successfully replacing her, it was Sadie’s sincerest hope that she’d arranged enough help so that all her twin would have to do was stand around, smile and be charming.
“Trust me,” Sarah said. “Before the weekend’s over, you and Trevor will be more in love than ever. While I’m stuck here, coated in flour and slaving away.”
Seeing past her sister’s teasing grin to the sincerity that shimmered in her mossy-green eyes, Sadie swallowed hard.
Yes, it was sappy and stupid and sentimental, but the inn was like a child to her. A demanding spoiled child that she knew she’d have to relax her grip on one day. Until that day, however, she would be enormously grateful to her twin. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”
“Nope. American Express will do nicely, though, to get your point across.”
“I’m serious,” Sadie said, giving her sister a gentle swat. “Thank you. Nobody but you could’ve ever pulled this off.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said.
“For what?”
“Trusting me. I promise I won’t let you down. This weekend will be perfect.”
With a lifetime of reading each other, they rose at precisely the same time, wrapping each other in teary hugs.
“For the record,” Sarah added, “Italian meringue is made by whipping a boiling syrup into the egg whites.”
And with that remark from her sister, Sadie finally relaxed. Her inn would be in excellent hands. As for the odds of a reviewer showing up? Nonexistent.
Chapter One
Friday
“Help!”
Heath Brown—identical twin to Hale Brown, who was the renowned food critic for Zodor’s International Country Inn Review Guide—rushed across Blueberry Inn’s reception area to aid a wobbling stack of towels that happened to have great legs. Dropping his black weekender on the floor, Heath grabbed the bulk of the folded laundry, in the process revealing a lovely surprise.
“Thanks,
