“Cassie.”
Cassie stopped checking the set of toiletries in the box and glanced at Agnes at the front desk. The eighty-year-old woman had her nose on the paper, squinting as she checked the list she made.
On the day Arman caught her and Anton in bed, he wanted to drive her to her family to talk about the wedding, but after breakfast, a group of tourists came, checking in. Since she arrived at the inn, they had been receiving guests. She was Agnes’ lucky charm.
Cassie grabbed the box, thinking of bringing them to the rooms upstairs. Before Arman left this morning, he instructed her to clean the two bedrooms upstairs for their guests coming this afternoon.
“Leave that. It’s heavy,” Agnes said, waiving the paper to her. “You’re pregnant. What if something happens to my great-grandchild?
