“Did you know Mom didn’t want to sell?” she asked Tara’s back. “That she planned on us running the place as a family?”

Tara turned around. “She knew better than that.”

“No, really. She wanted to use the inn to bring us together.”

“I loved Mom,” Chloe said. “But she didn’t do ‘together.’ ”

“She didn’t,” Maddie agreed. “But we could. If we wanted.”

Both sisters gaped at her.

“You’ve lost your ever-lovin’ marbles,” Tara finally said. “We’re selling.”

No longer a mouse, Maddie told herself. Going from mouse to tough girl, like… Rachel from Friends. Without the wishy-washyness. And without Ross. She didn’t like Ross. “What if I don’t want to sell?”

“I don’t give a coon’s ass whether you want to or not. It doesn’t matter,” Tara said. “We have to sell.”

“A coon’s ass?” Chloe repeated with a laugh. “Is that farm ghetto slang or something? And what does that even mean?”

Tara ignored her and ticked reasons off on her fingers. “There’s no money. We have a payment due to the note holder in two weeks. Not to mention, I have a life to get back to in Dallas. I took a week off, that’s it.”

Maddie knew Tara had a sexy NASCAR husband named Logan and a high-profile managerial job. Maddie could understand wanting to get back to both.

“And maybe I have a date with an Arabian prince,” Chloe said. “We all have lives to get back to, Tara.”

Well, not all of us, Maddie thought.

In uneasy silence, they checked out the rest of the inn. There was a den and a small bed and bath off the kitchen, and four bedrooms and two community bathrooms upstairs, all shabby chic minus the chic.

Next, they walked out to the marina. The small metal building was half equipment storage and half office-and one giant mess. Kayaks and tools and oars and supplies vied for space. In the good-news department, four of the eight boat slips were filled. “Rent,” Maddie said, thrilled, making more notes.