"I'm sure we can find something,” John says.
"Here you go, dear," she says, coming back with a bottle of Advil and water.
"I honestly can't thank you enough."
Louisa gives me a gentle hug. "Good night, Ava,” John says with a wink. Before she can say goodnight, he scoops her up and carries his wife upstairs while she giggles. I take the pills and then curl up on the sofa, easily falling asleep.
****
The orange sky wakes me up and I stretch. Standing up, I walk to the window to see the sun rise over the large trees. "Goodness, this is beautiful." The only thing that would make it better is a large cup of coffee. I sigh. They were right. There’s something about this place that feels like home. I can’t even explain it.
I stand there for another minute and then remember my clothes are in the car and I probably shouldn’t be a lazy bump on a log. Slipping my coat on, I walk outside and grab my duffle that I use as a personal travel kit. Once I freshen up, I fold my blanket and set the pillow on top of it, fluffing up the cushions on the back of the sofa. With a sigh, I grab my water glass and take it to the kitchen.
John and Louisa must still be in bed. As I wash out my glass, an idea hits me so I check their fridge. It’s Christmas Eve so I’m sure they have so many things to do, so making them a meal hopefully will help. I’ve rarely spent any time in a kitchen at home, but for the past three years in college, I’ve secretly had a job at a local diner. Perhaps I can cook for them. They have everything I need to make French toast casserole and eggs with homemade hash browns. I'm almost done when I hear footsteps.
"Good morning, Ava. You didn't have to make breakfast."
"I thought I should repay your kindness. It's your own food."
"Still, we were up late, and this smells so good. I'll start some coffee. Do you like coffee?"
"Yes, but everyone has their favorite strength, so I didn't want to mess up your preference.” My father would lose his shit if his coffee weren’t perfect.
“These men work hard, so the stronger the better, but John's off today. He'll be picking up our boys later." She flits around the kitchen effortlessly. It reminds me of my mother. I was only seven when she died. Those days seemed so long ago, but the emotion takes a hold of me.
"Oh no, dear. Are you okay?"
"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I just had a flashback of my mother. She would make us breakfast and move like she floated gracefully as she did it."
"You lost your mother? I'm sorry. That's an awfully hard thing. My mother has our children, and I can't imagine living without her."
"What the hell smells so good in here?" John says, coming into the room. He nods to me, but then walks up to Louisa. "Good morning, beautiful," he growls, sliding his arms around his wife, and kisses her hard and fast, pulling away with a smirk. I smile, loving the scene in front of me.
“Our guest cooked us breakfast. It smells good, doesn’t it?”
“It does. Sit down, ladies. I’ll serve.” We sit at the kitchen table and he makes each of us a plate, bringing them together like a fancy server.
“Thank you, Mr. Morrison.”
“It’s John Morrison, but you can call me John.” We eat our food in companionable silence, and then he says, “You know, Ava. You mentioned a job yesterday. I think I have the perfect position.”
“For Tobias,” Louisa says, clapping her hands together with such enthusiasm that I’m curious about the job.
“Exactly. You’re reading my mind again, woman.” He bends down and steals another kiss.
“It’s a gift.” She tosses him a wink before sipping her coffee. “Besides, he could use someone cooking for him.”
“So who is this Tobias?”
“He’s my boss out at the Reynolds Ranch. The main house is about three miles from here. He’s visiting family for Christmas, but he’s a curmudgeon who could use a great cook. He can’t find anyone, but we know he’d love you. Besides, if he gives you shit, give it back. He’s all bark.”
“So you want me to work for a man with a bad temper?” I arch my brow and point to my eye.
“Sorry—Tobias is an asshole, but he’s never put his hands on a woman. He’s just grumpy about having things done at a decent time. The last one he fired hadn’t bothered cooking dinner one night. He got home late with nothing to eat.”
“Oh, was she sick or something?”
“Don’t feel sorry for the woman. She got fired for a good reason. I can take you over there today and show you around.”