Chapter Five
The aroma of fresh coffee filled the ranch kitchen as dawn painted the horizon in watercolor hues. Eloise had expected a basic country kitchen, not this massive space with top-of-the-line appliances, quartz countertops, and enough room to feed an army. Which, given the number of Farradays she’d met last night and how many were still left to meet, probably wasn’t far off.
She glanced around in search of the dog who had been her shadow most of last evening. Allowing her to scratch behind his ears had been as soothing for Eloise as for the dog. The other dog that was clearly Gray’s favorite companion, came over from time to time for a little scratch or sniff, but the big gray dog was the one who remained mostly at her side, or comfortably in a corner, his tail thumping against the hardwood floor each time she passed.
“Good morning.” Aunt Eileen stood at the sink, smiling over her shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”
After the best night’s sleep she’d had in months—courtesy of the cloud-soft bed in what Aunt Eileen called “Grace’s old room”—Eloise felt energized. “Very well, thank you. The room is just lovely. And the view.”
The bedroom itself had been a revelation. Soft blues and creams, a window seat perfect for reading, and a view that stretched forever across the Texas landscape.
“Wait till you see the sunset.” Aunt Eileen reached for another dirty dish. “Best view of the setting sun, other than the back porch.”
She’d caught the hues of a rising sun when she passed through the living room, and she could hardly wait to catch sunset.
“I’m just about to fix the second round of breakfast.”
“Second round?” She thought she’d risen bright and early.
Aunt Eileen nodded. “Sean and the hands are already out working.”
“Oh, is that where Gray is?”
“Yes ma’am. Best cattle dog a rancher could ask for.” Eileen reached for a bowl and a griddle. “Now it’s time to feed the construction crew, and anyone who skipped the first breakfast but is ready to fuel up.”
“What’s on the menu?” Eloise watched the woman pull out pans and plates and ingredients from the massive fridge.
“Just eggs, bacon, and fresh biscuits. If the mood moves me, I might make some pancakes too.”
“Allow me.” Eloise didn’t wait for approval, she opened the fridge and began pulling out ingredients. “I make a mean French toast breakfast casserole.”
The way Aunt Eileen stared at her, for a moment panic rushed through her, fearing she’d offended the woman.
A slow smile took over the older woman’s face as she grabbed a rag and wiped her hands. “That may be the best offer I’ve had all year. Besides, how stupid would I have to be to fight a professional chef for control of a kitchen?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to—.” That panic in the pit of her stomach was growing.
“No, dear.” Aunt Eileen set her hand on Eloise’s forearm. “It’s always a blessing to have help in the kitchen. What would you like me to do?”
By the time boot heels were stomping down the stairs, fresh biscuits filled the warming drawer, bacon crisped on the griddle, and she’d just pulled her brother’s favorite breakfast casserole from the oven.
“Something smells amazing.” Quinn’s deep voice carried from the doorway, still gravelly with sleep.
She turned to find him in worn jeans and a faded t-shirt, his hair still damp from a morning shower, looking far too appealing for this early hour. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Always.” He poured two cups of coffee, sliding one toward her. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Consider it a thank you for the room. And the welcome.” She accepted the coffee, their fingers brushing briefly, her awareness of him escalating unexpectedly.
“I offer my hearty you’re very welcome on behalf of everyone eating breakfast this morning.” He took a long slow sip of coffee before looking up at her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Best sleep in a long time. Grace has good taste.”
“She loved that room. Aunt Eileen moved in with the family when her sister died after giving birth to Grace. Back then, we only spent summers in Texas, but I still remember Aunt Eileen and Grace picking out all the colors and fabrics. Somehow they made it feel like it wasn’t just the two of them decorating, but Aunt Helen as well. Grace said that’s why sleeping in that room was like sleeping with the angels.”
“She’s right.” Sleeping with angels was exactly how she’d felt.
Within minutes, Ryan had joined them. Followed by Paxton, another brother who still lived with the Farradays but would be marrying soon and moving to a house of their own in town. Before more than a hello or two was shared, the kitchen door opened and Connor came in, stomping his boots. “Man, something smells good.”
Aunt Eileen grinned, lifting her chin, beaming with pride as if she’d been the one to make the breakfast. “Eloise made a special breakfast casserole.”
“Really?” Connor pulled out his phone and within minutes his wife Catherine, who was originally from Chicago like her, their daughter and young son were on their way over.
“Well now, I don’t know about you, but I’m awfully glad the town council screwed up and your apartment isn’t ready yet.” Aunt Eileen surveyed the spread with approval. “Not that I expect you to cook for us, but this is indeed a wonderful way to start the morning.” The woman spun about and pulled Eloise into a tight hug before stepping back. “Thank you.”
A chorus of thank you from everyone at the table met her ears along with mutterings of more eggs please, save some for me, and danged these are amazing biscuits.
Eloise felt warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the ovens. So this is what it meant to have a family. Too bad they weren’t hers.
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows as Quinn, lingering for no particular reason, savored his third cup of coffee. Most of the family had cleared out, heading to their respective jobs and responsibilities. Even Aunt Eileen had disappeared, lugging a basket of clean laundry to hang on the line. Despite their having a perfectly good dryer, his aunt preferred hanging the laundry the old-fashioned way on sunny days.
Eloise hummed softly while loading the dishwasher. He’d offered to help more than once, but her insistence that she had it under control reminded him of his aunt. Cleaning up, she’d moved with the same efficiency she’d shown while cooking. He’d noticed that about her—everything she did had purpose, even if she made it look effortless.
“Are you wanting to go back to the construction site, or would you rather stay here and settle in?” He rinsed his cup and set it in the rack she’d just filled.
“I’d like to go with you. There are a few more things I need to work out; besides there’s not that much to settle in here.” She closed the dishwasher, wiped her hands on a towel. “Though I need to figure out my own transportation soon. I can’t keep depending on you for rides.”
“What’s this?” Aunt Eileen came back, dropping the empty basket on the counter.
“I need to work on getting a vehicle of my own to get back and forth to Sadieville, or into Tuckers Bluff.”
“Remember…” Quinn leaned against the counter; this was his chance to actually help her. “We’ve got a few ranch vehicles that don’t see much use. No reason not to drive one of ours.”
“Like I said before,” his aunt paused and faced Eloise, “as long as you don’t need pretty.”
Quinn nodded, his gaze level with Eloise’s. “The blue Ford usually sits idle unless we’re moving hay.”
Her eyes lit up. “If you’re sure, that would be great.”
“We’re halfway between Tuckers Bluff and Sadieville. The ride to town is pretty smooth, but the ride to the construction site can be a bit bumpy.”
“I noticed.” That sunny smile appeared again.
“A truck makes more sense than a car.”
“I may have learned to drive in Chicago, but I can’t imagine navigating the dirt roads in a low riding sedan.”
The woman was strong, sweet, and sensible too. Suddenly, he felt an odd loss at the thought of not riding together. “For now, why don’t we carpool until you learn your way?”
Her head tipped to one side. “Is that Texan for GPS doesn’t work out here?”
“Something like that.” He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Thought so.” She nodded, gathering her bag with what looked like several notebooks and a laptop.
The morning air still held a hint of cool as they stepped outside. By the end of the day, the sun would make everything feel like an oven. Holding the passenger door open for her, his mind started churning with what comes next. “Your brother arrives in three weeks?”
“Twenty days.” The immediate response told him she’d been counting. “The VA clinic in Midland already has his paperwork, and his therapy team in Chicago thinks the change will be good for him.”
Quinn nodded, turning onto the ranch road. “Uncle Sean mentioned that if your brother wants some busy work, we’d be happy to let him work with the barn animals. Said something about how working with your hands can help clear the mind.”
He caught her quick glance, the slight shine in her eyes before she blinked it away. “That’s… that’s very kind.”
“That’s Uncle Sean.” What he didn’t know for sure was what exactly her brother’s situation was. Eloise mentioned at dinner that her brother had done three tours in the military and that he was doing therapy, but she didn’t say much more, though her concern for her brother could be easily seen in her eyes. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you think working with horses would help your brother?”
“Horses? Are those the barn animals your uncle wants him to work with?”
“Oh. No. I was thinking about my cousin Hannah. You haven’t met her yet, she’s in Dallas visiting some friends for the long weekend. She’s an equine therapist. Works out of Connor’s place. She works with kids and veterans, and has done some amazing work,” Quinn clarified.
“Oh, I don’t know, but I can certainly look into it.”
Quinn nodded. “You can talk to Hannah when she comes home.”
“I’d like that.”
“And here we go again.” He slowed the truck and pointed ahead. Four cows strolled, very slowly, across the road.
“I gather this happens often?”
“Unfortunately, the Brady’s cattle break through their fence every other Tuesday.”
“You’re joking.” Her laugh filled the cab of the truck, and something in his chest tightened at the sound.
“Wish I was. Those cows have a standing appointment with freedom.”
By the time they reached the construction site, she had three pages of notes about local roads, landmarks, and yes, the Brady’s escape-artist cattle. Quinn couldn’t remember the last time a simple drive to work had been so entertaining.
Or maybe it wasn’t the drive at all.