How lovely! Lillian, come look at this!” Genevieve called the last sentence to her sister through the pass-through in the café that separated the stool-lined counter from the kitchen, then turned back to Kristen. “That Louis Mattson is so thoughtful. He never fails to stop in here for a bite and a visit when he’s in town. And inviting all the residents to a preview of the inn before it opens—everyone will be thrilled! We’ve all been dying for a peek inside.” “What is it, Genevieve? I have pies to bake, and Barbara will be stopping by any minute to whip up a couple of her carrot cakes for us.” Lillian bustled through the swinging door off to one side, wiping her flour-dusted hands on a towel. “Hello, Kristen.” “Hi, Lillian.” She smiled at the two energetic seventy-something sisters, who bore absolutely no resemblance to one another. While Genevieve was short and a bit rounded, with white hair she always wore in a soft chignon, Lillian was tall and spare, and her cropped dark hair sported only a few streaks of gray.
