The Chef's Choice
Mind the front desk? Me?" Cady McBain looked up from where she was planting a flowering kale to stare at her mother plaintively.
"Only a few hours. Just until your father and I get back from Portland," Amanda McBain added hastily.
Cady almost smiled. McBains had run the Compass Rose Guest Quarters for four generations. For her parents and even her brother and sister before they'd moved away, tending to guests at the Maine inn was second nature, effortless.
For Cady, it was usually excruciating.
There were times she was sure there'd been a mix-up at the hospital when she was a baby. Give her a hedge to trim or pansies to plant, and she'd go at it with gusto. She kept the grounds of the Compass Rose impeccable, from the flower beds to the trees to the emerald back lawn that ran down to the lapping waters of tiny Grace Harbor. Cady could make sense of plants. She understood them, they were predictable.
She couldn't make heads or tails of people.
It wasn't that she didn't try—although dealing with guests was right up there with root canals on her list of fun things to do. Somehow, though, she always said or did the wrong thing.
"Where's Lynne?" she asked n ... read full excerpt from: The Chef's Choice ebook
