To pan, add reserved glaze and on stovetop boil over high heat 5 minutes, or until thickened and reduced to about ½ cup. Season sauce with salt and pepper and drizzle over pork loin.

ONE week later, Nikki thought she’d turned into Linda Blair from The Exorcist.

Surely her head was doing three-sixties at two hundred miles an hour and she felt like puking up anything she tried to eat. This all started after she and Simon had had it out earlier over the fact that she’d placed calla lilies and tuberose in each guest’s room.

“No, no, no. We talked about this, Snow White, and I told you that I wanted freesia and gardenias.” He did that hand-on-hip-jutted-out thing he does so well.

Simon buzzed around her like one of those giant flies that never stopped long enough to be swatted (and he was grating on her nerves in the same manner) while she placed candles in all the votives inside the front lobby of the hotel. Everything about the hotel had a Tuscan feel to it, from the butter and dusky peach colors to the oversized chairs and sofas in gold and rust, to the pavers on the floor and the arches leading in and out to the gardens, café, spa, and restaurant. Plus there were the candles-lots and lots of candles, which Nikki typically found beautiful, especially in the evening when they were lit. But right now with Simon the fly on speed, rambling on, and several more details to contend with, she did not find the bazillion candles quite so charming.

She stopped long enough to give him a piece of her mind. “I’m not sure that you’re super clear on this, but here’s the thing. Have you ever done gardenias in an arrangement?” He didn’t respond. “I didn’t think so, because guess what? That is exactly what the florist asked me. After she chewed me out because apparently someone sent back the rose arrangements we ordered for the café yesterday.” Now it was her turn to do the hand-on-hip thing.

He frowned. “I had to. The roses didn’t smell strong enough. They’re roses, and I’m sorry but when you walk into a room with a couple dozen roses, I would think that their scent would be permeating the air so strong that bees would be buzzing around.”

“More like flies. A big one,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Now, come on, drama queen. You said that you’d work with me on this and gardenias brown at human touch. The only way we can do them is in a potted plant.”

“Oh puhleeze. Isn’t that what a florist does? Make arrangements? Gardenia or not? I would think an expert could have handled it.” Nikki growled at Simon’s words. “Oh no, no you don’t. Don’t go all she-cat on me.”

She shook a finger at him. “You know, you told Marco, your brother, and me that you’d support me with this thing you dumped into my lap. Instead, you’ve given me nothing but grief by sending back the flowers, complaining about the menus, and demanding a rush shipment on that essential oil from Maui. An expense, by the way, your brother is going to probably shoot you for.” She grabbed Simon’s shoulders. “I need you to stop the nonsense.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon whined.

“Simon!” One of the housekeepers walked past with a stack of towels in her arms and turned at Nikki’s raised voice. “You have no idea how hard this has been, do you?”

“Yes I do. I’m working, too.” He rolled his eyes while wiggling his shoulders up and down, like a seesaw. A sure sign he was getting nervous with this conversation and she was gaining the upper hand.

“Here’s the deal. I need you to stop bitching and do what I tell you if you want your guru and his pals to be happy. Or else, I’m walking and this will all be on your shoulders.”

“Well, okay, fine. Whatever you want.” He stormed off with a wave of his hand in the air and a dramatic sigh, as if she were the difficult one.

An hour later, he sidled up to her with a hot carne asada burrito from Roberto’s in town. “Your favorite,” he said with a chagrin smile crossing his face.

“Peace offering or ass kiss?”

“A little of both. I’m not ashamed to admit that maybe I could be a little more grateful.”

She took the burrito. “I accept. Call the florist and apologize.”

“I brought you a Diet Coke, too. Could you call them? You’re so good with people.”

“Call the florist,” Nikki ordered.

He jutted out his lower lip. “Okay.”

She tried to eat the burrito, which was usually her absolute favorite, but there was no way. Her stomach was tied up in knots because she knew guests would be arriving in less than an hour and the numerous problems hadn’t ceased. The wrong wine had been pulled from the warehouse for the guests’ arrival. The towel delivery service claimed the spa wasn’t scheduled for that day. And instead of oyster mushrooms being delivered from their distributor, shiitakes had arrived and the chef was having a fit over being stuck with the apparently unsuitable mushrooms.

Derek popped in to check on things. He’d been wrapping up the business with the unhappy clients and needed to get his things packed to leave that evening. He put his arms around her waist. “How’s it going?”

She frowned. “A little bit stressful, but I’m handling it.”

“You always do.” He looked around. No one was in the lobby, so he kissed her. Everyone who worked at Malveaux knew they were an item, but they still needed to keep things professional while at work. Not always easy. “You look beautiful today. I’m sorry that I won’t be here to help you out more.”

After his kiss and compliment, she had no complaints. “You’re forgiven.”

He kissed her again.

They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Pulling away from each other, Nikki felt her cheeks blush. She immediately put on her best Vanna White smile and an “Oh yes, Napa Valley truly is heaven on earth attitude.”

She wished she were still kissing Derek as a squatty middle-aged woman who looked like she’d sucked on a few lemons in her life stared at them. “I’m Rose Pearlman. My husband…” She turned around. “Rube! Ruben! Oh God. Where is he? I told him to leave the bags in the rental car and that someone would get them.” She gave Derek a once-over. “Do you think you could do that? Go see if my husband is out front with the bags. Or are you too busy with your girlfriend here?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I wonder what your boss would say if he knew what you two were up to.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I suppose that could be a problem. I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Pearlman. I’ll go check on your husband.”

“Thank you.”

Nikki was holding back her laughter. If the lady only knew.

She turned back toward Nikki with a narrowing of her eyes. “You do wash your sheets and towels with lavender essential oils, right? And they are organic? That’s what your website said.”

“Yes we do. Absolutely,” Nikki replied.

“Uh-huh, well, I called two days ago, and I requested that my husband and my sheets and towels be washed in rosewater. Ruben doesn’t care for lavender.”

Nikki didn’t skip a beat. “I remember your request, Mrs. Pearlman.” In reality, she had no recollection of the woman’s call. “I’m certain you’ll be pleased to know that the staff has taken care of it.”

“Wait a minute, I don’t mind lavender at all. I like all scents. Come on, Rosie,” a gray-haired gentleman with one honker of a nose and nice blue eyes-obviously the Mr. to the Mrs.-said as he smacked his wife on her rear.

Derek came back inside with two suitcases in hand.

“That’s not all my bags,” Mrs. Pearlman said.

Derek nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I’m aware. I need to get a roller for the bags.”

“Rose, quit giving these kids a hard time.”

Kids? Nikki liked the sound of that. At thirty-seven, she hardly thought of herself as a kid any longer.