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“You’re such a bad influence, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Lance jokes.
“She doesn’t say shit much, only mouthsfucka lot,” Cassie says.
I glare at her. “I thought we were friends.”
“He says bad words too. You should make him put a hundred dollars in the swear jar every week,” she accuses her dad, and I’m pretty sure she’s having a blast with us.
“We need to talk.” Lance’s voice is a little more stern than usual.
I can’t help but laugh when I realize he’s biting back a smirk.
“Oh my,” I say, clutching my necklace. “You’re breaking up with me? I thought we had a good thing going between us. Was it my scones? I thought you loved maple scones.”
“Do you have any?” He gives me a boyish smile.
“Nope, today we have cranberry scones. I can make you some coffee and you can tell dear Knightly what’s bothering you.”
“Can I have pancakes for breakfast, please?” Cassie requests.
“You haven’t had breakfast?” I frown.
“It’s barely eight o’clock, and you called with anemergency. Of course, she hasn’t had breakfast yet.”
Cassie points at her dad. “He promised you’d make pancakes for us.”
“He did, huh?” I take her hand the same way I used to when she was a tumbling toddler. “You’re going to help me, though,” I say. “If we’re lucky, Gramps might share some of his liquid gold with us.”
Her light blue eyes widen, then crinkle with excitement. “Do you think we can make maple candy?”
“How about tomorrow?” I offer. “Today’s a pretty busy day.”
“How so?” Lance looks around the empty dining room.
“There’s a bride-to-be coming to check out the place with her parents and her in-laws.”
“Here? Not the lodge?”
“Ski resort,” I correct him.
Last year, Damian, my oldest brother, decided to rebrand our businesses, and he started with the lodge. We now call it the Ski Resort at the Harris Estate. He also changed the furniture and renovated the entire building.
Damian wishes he could renovate the Victorian home where we run the B&B, but I won’t let him. It’s a historical building that’s been in the Harris family for five generations. We own the land where the farm, the orchard, the gift shop, the house, and the lodge stand, and have since the late eighteen hundreds.
“This bride wants to find the perfect spot for the wedding. A guest referred the B&B and the farm. Not that Dad will let that happen.”
“The farm isn’t a wedding destination,” my father’s voice booms through the kitchen before he even steps foot inside it. “That’s what the lodge is for.”
“Ski resort,” I correct him, gritting my teeth.
“Mr. Harris.” Lance nods.
“Grampa Harry,” Cassie says as she runs to Dad.
“I didn’t know my little girl was here.” He hugs her and twirls her around the kitchen.
“Can we make maple candies?” she asks.
I glare at Lance for this one. She’s just as stubborn as her father. They take the word no as a challenge. Their motto isI’ll make it happen.
