8
“YOU MIGHT AS well have all the linens in this closet for your new inn,” Carlotta said, motioning to high stacks of neatly folded sheets and towels. “I haven’t used most of them since all of you left home.”
Ivy gazed up at the linens that reached to the top of the linen closet. The scent of lavender from neatly tied bundles of dried lavender stalks harvested from her mother’s garden wafted out. The herbal aroma reminded her of her childhood when she’d slept on similarly scented sheets. She still found it comforting. “Don’t you need these linens anymore for when friends or grandchildren come to visit?”
Her mother drew a breath to speak but stopped short.
The small movement caught Ivy’s eye. “Mom, what is it?”
Carlotta waved her hand. “We have far too much of everything. Whatever you
