brochures detailing what The Tanglewood Inn had to offer.
“It’s really beautiful,” Emma told her as they stood inside the doorway and inspected the finished room.
“I tried to make it into a place where clients will want to relax and spend time pulling together the details.”
“You certainly accomplished that.”
Fee poked her head through the doorway. “Wow!”
“Isn’t it great?” Emma asked her.
“Amazing.” She tossed a smile toward Norma before catching Emma’s eye. “You have a call.”
Emma rubbed Norma’s arm on her way to the doorway. “You done good.”
“Thanks, Emma.”
She rounded the corner and crossed her kitchen, then sat down behind her very own desk with a sigh.
“Emma Travis,” she said as she picked up the phone. “My daughter, the professional.”
Emma grinned and leaned back into the chair. “Mother.”
“It always sounds like you’re calling me a bad name when you say it like that, Emma Rae.”
“How would you prefer me to say it?” she laughed.
“Mother, darling!” Avery exclaimed. “I’ve missed you so.”
“Well, I have. How are you, Mother darling? Are you in town?”
“No, I’m in Savannah with your Aunt Sophie, sweetheart. I’m thinking about bringing her with me to Atlanta.”
“It would be nice to have her visit.”
“Not for a visit, Emma Rae. I’m thinking of bringing her there permanently.”
Emma chuckled. “Have you discussed that with her yet? I can’t imagine Aunt Sophie packing up and leaving Savannah behind after all these years. Has she ever even left the city limits?”
“Yes, she has. But she’s not doing very well, and I’m worried about her. I thought I might be able to get her one of those apartments in the Sandy Springs complex where Delores and Beauregard Denton moved last year. Peachtree something.”
“Everything in Atlanta is Peachtree something, Mother.”
“It’s one of those communities; a retirement village with a penthouse.”
“Assisted living?” Emma asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Sophie can’t live on her own anymore, Emma Rae.”
“It’s that bad?”
“She wandered off in her nightclothes last week, and they found her waiting outside Nieman Marcus for the doors to open.”
“Oh,” Emma groaned. “That’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. I’m very concerned. I’m going to call the Dentons and see what they can tell me about the place. I visited them last year, and we had a very nice luncheon in the restaurant downstairs.”
“The cafeteria?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Give Aunt Sophie my love?”
“I will, sweetheart. Now tell me how your new job is coming along. When do you open?”
“Next week we have an official opening,” she replied, and then she opened the desk drawer and propped both feet on it. “The first hotel guests are booked the week after, and our first wedding is on the eighteenth. You’ll never guess whose wedding it is.”
“Tell me.”
“Danny Mahoney.”
“Mahoney,” Avery repeated. “Mahoney. Where do I know—”
“My high school boyfriend.”
“Oh! Sweet Ivy James, you can’t be serious. Remember how your father abhorred that boy?”
“Well, he needn’t have worried. Apparently, Danny has found the woman of his dreams in a tiny blonde named Callie, and their wedding theme … wait for it! … is the Atlanta Braves.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Avery said with a chuckle. “Didn’t he play baseball in school?”
“He sure did. I’m designing a sculpted wedding cake for them in the shape of a baseball glove.”
“Please. No more.”
“Oh, there’s more, Mother. The reception food?”
“Chicken wings?”
“Barbecue.”
Avery began to chortle, and Emma could just picture her there, her hand to her slender throat, her dark brown hair pulled back into a perfect, elegant bun, her sparkling smile lighting up three or four rooms around her.
“What a shame, sweetheart. No wedding barbecue for you. Are you
“It’s really beautiful,” Emma told her as they stood inside the doorway and inspected the finished room.
“I tried to make it into a place where clients will want to relax and spend time pulling together the details.”
“You certainly accomplished that.”
Fee poked her head through the doorway. “Wow!”
“Isn’t it great?” Emma asked her.
“Amazing.” She tossed a smile toward Norma before catching Emma’s eye. “You have a call.”
Emma rubbed Norma’s arm on her way to the doorway. “You done good.”
“Thanks, Emma.”
She rounded the corner and crossed her kitchen, then sat down behind her very own desk with a sigh.
“Emma Travis,” she said as she picked up the phone. “My daughter, the professional.”
Emma grinned and leaned back into the chair. “Mother.”
“It always sounds like you’re calling me a bad name when you say it like that, Emma Rae.”
“How would you prefer me to say it?” she laughed.
“Mother, darling!” Avery exclaimed. “I’ve missed you so.”
“Well, I have. How are you, Mother darling? Are you in town?”
“No, I’m in Savannah with your Aunt Sophie, sweetheart. I’m thinking about bringing her with me to Atlanta.”
“It would be nice to have her visit.”
“Not for a visit, Emma Rae. I’m thinking of bringing her there permanently.”
Emma chuckled. “Have you discussed that with her yet? I can’t imagine Aunt Sophie packing up and leaving Savannah behind after all these years. Has she ever even left the city limits?”
“Yes, she has. But she’s not doing very well, and I’m worried about her. I thought I might be able to get her one of those apartments in the Sandy Springs complex where Delores and Beauregard Denton moved last year. Peachtree something.”
“Everything in Atlanta is Peachtree something, Mother.”
“It’s one of those communities; a retirement village with a penthouse.”
“Assisted living?” Emma asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Sophie can’t live on her own anymore, Emma Rae.”
“It’s that bad?”
“She wandered off in her nightclothes last week, and they found her waiting outside Nieman Marcus for the doors to open.”
“Oh,” Emma groaned. “That’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. I’m very concerned. I’m going to call the Dentons and see what they can tell me about the place. I visited them last year, and we had a very nice luncheon in the restaurant downstairs.”
“The cafeteria?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Give Aunt Sophie my love?”
“I will, sweetheart. Now tell me how your new job is coming along. When do you open?”
“Next week we have an official opening,” she replied, and then she opened the desk drawer and propped both feet on it. “The first hotel guests are booked the week after, and our first wedding is on the eighteenth. You’ll never guess whose wedding it is.”
“Tell me.”
“Danny Mahoney.”
“Mahoney,” Avery repeated. “Mahoney. Where do I know—”
“My high school boyfriend.”
“Oh! Sweet Ivy James, you can’t be serious. Remember how your father abhorred that boy?”
“Well, he needn’t have worried. Apparently, Danny has found the woman of his dreams in a tiny blonde named Callie, and their wedding theme … wait for it! … is the Atlanta Braves.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Avery said with a chuckle. “Didn’t he play baseball in school?”
“He sure did. I’m designing a sculpted wedding cake for them in the shape of a baseball glove.”
“Please. No more.”
“Oh, there’s more, Mother. The reception food?”
“Chicken wings?”
“Barbecue.”
Avery began to chortle, and Emma could just picture her there, her hand to her slender throat, her dark brown hair pulled back into a perfect, elegant bun, her sparkling smile lighting up three or four rooms around her.
“What a shame, sweetheart. No wedding barbecue for you. Are you
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