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laughed at what he’d written: We’re in this together. The payoff is one cooked goose. “You don’t need to do that,” she insisted.
    Justin looked earnest. “Years ago I said I’d roast a goose for Christmas or Thanksgiving dinner. Now I’ll make good on that promise, but I’ll cook it at Mom’s condo. Goose is greasy. I don’t want the fire alarm going off at my apartment or scaring your guests. Besides, I can’t think of another way to make up for saddling you with my crazy family. I should never have suggested your B&B.”
    Judith glanced at Mike, who was looking bemused. “Well?”
    â€œWhy not?” Mike said. “Hey, Justy, tell your mom Kristin can help. Her granny’s an expert on roast goose.”
    Visions of the know-it-all Kristin and Justin’s indomitable mother, Germaine, facing off with basting brushes over a roasting pan made Judith blanch. “Please,” she begged, “forget about your uncle’s stay. It’s over.”
    â€œOh, no,” Justin countered. “Sign here. I wouldn’t feel right about this whole mess if you didn’t.”
    Judith scribbled her initials. “Okay, but it’s not necessary.”
    â€œIt is to me,” Justin said, starting down the steps. “One way or another, I’ll make darned sure you get what’s coming to you.”
    Watching Mike and Justin walk toward the driveway, Judith realized that Justin’s last words had a double meaning—and one of them wasn’t good.

Chapter Three
    A s Judith slipped Justin’s IOU into the strongbox where she kept cash and credit card receipts, the golden-wedding-anniversary couple returned. Judith hurried to meet them before they headed upstairs. The seafood restaurant on the bay had been excellent; their room was very comfortable; they had no idea what to expect of the city, never before having gone farther from Memphis than Little Rock, where their son and his family lived. After more than fifteen years of innkeeping, Judith could ask questions, hear answers, make appropriate responses, and establish rapport while her brain was otherwise engaged. None of her guests seemed to realize she wasn’t really listening. According to Renie, Judith was so adept at exuding warmth—and telling lies when the need arose—that she could probably fool Saint Peter when she arrived at heaven’s Pearly Gates.
    As soon as the Tennessee couple headed upstairs, Judith went back to the kitchen, where Mike was pouring himself a glass of milk.
    â€œAre the boys asleep?” she asked.
    â€œThey should be,” Mike replied, closing the fridge door. “They went on a sugar high after Gee-Gee let them plunder her box of chocolates. She never let me do that. Then she told them SantaClaus got drunk, fell off the roof, and killed himself. It took Kris and me ten minutes to make them stop crying.”
    Judith shook her head in bewilderment. “I honestly never know when Mother is genuinely gaga or just putting me on.”
    Mike shrugged. “She’s earned the right to be muddled. The boys like her. Maybe they sense she’s got a good heart.”
    Judith shot her son a hard look. “A strong heart, anyway.”
    â€œMa…” The single word conveyed reproach.
    â€œI know,” Judith responded. “I get frustrated. I’m glad the boys have a great-grandmother. You got shortchanged with grandparents. Only Mother was there for you—and for me. My father died too young.” Feeling her eyes grow moist, she turned away, wishing as she often did that Donald Grover wasn’t such a distant, yet dear, memory. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, and turned around to hug her son. “Your boys are such darlings. I hope they’re having fun.”
    Mike laughed. “They are,” he said as Judith moved out of his embrace. “But they’re worn out.