30The morning after the party, Molly was moving slowly. She settled at her desk with a cup of coffee, anxious to deal with her correspondence. She hadn’t checked her email in days and hoped she didn’t have a throng of prospective guests who already felt neglected by her silence. There were a number of queries. Methodically, she went through them, answering questions about Castillac and the Dordogne generally, the weather, and the food.
It was such pleasant work, helping people plan their vacations. For the hundredth time, she felt grateful to be able to be there, to have her business and her life in Castillac. Even with the stupid ticks. And if she could only get well enough to start this new venture with Ben, life would be pretty damn near perfect. The thought that so far they were faili
