“So you think you’ll be satisfied hiring yourself out?” she asked.
Brandon looked like she’d hit him with a lightning bolt, his expression quickly sagging as he sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s working right now, as I try to figure out what I really want.”
He focused on his coffee again, stirring as if the sugar wouldn’t dissolve if he stopped. He lifted his cup to his mouth and took another drink, this time smacking his lips with a smile. “That’s a lot better.”
“A menu, Brandon,” Jane said, suddenly reappearing at the end of the table. “We’re doing Sunday brunch this morning. It’s five courses, all set.” She pointed to the single sheet of paper clipped to the laminated menu. “If you want that, it’s a set price. All the coffee and mimosas you want. And I can bring out the fruit platter immediately.”
Brandon looked across the table to Lenore, his eyebrows raised. “You want Sunday brunch?”
Lenore had been so consumed by anxiety, she hadn’t even looked at the menu. “Sure,” she said, her eyes landing on the price of Sunday brunch, another quench moving through her body. “Brunch sounds great.” Her voice only came out slightly strangled.
Brandon reached across the table, picked up her menu, layered it over his and handed them back to Jane. “We’ll take the brunch times two, but I don’t want to drink alcohol. What else can I get?”
“I can bring you regular orange juice, apple juice, a soda,” Jane said, her eyebrows perfectly pointed into a question mark.
“You got those pineapple mango smoothies?”
Jane grinned at him. “Sure thing.” She looked over to Lenore. “Anything else for you? Besides coffee?”
Lenore could probably use a stiff drink, but since she also didn’t normally consume alcohol and would have to drive herself back to the homestead, she said, “I’ll take orange juice.”
“Coming right up,” Jane said before she walked away again.
Brandon nodded to the folder. “You want me to look at that?”
Lenore practically shoved it at him. “Yes.” Confessions and admissions filled her mind and almost surged out of her mouth, but she clamped her teeth tight and pressed her lips closed as he flipped open the folder.
She’d looked up the contract online, as she’d never hired someone before. In the past, when her father had done it, hehadn’t used a contract. Lenore could see the wisdom in such things, and she’d filled out her name and address, along with his, at the top. She’d included phone numbers and email addresses, the amount of the salary and when it would be paid, and then she’d tried to spell out the agreement between them as clearly as possible.
He would get lodging. He could have access to the eggs and vegetables that she grew. She would pay for repairs and supplies, and he would work.
To be honest, she hadn’t even considered days off, as she worked twenty-four-seven out of sheer necessity. But she couldn’t expect someone else to do the same. And she’d taken what he’d said about not being an early riser and said she expected him to work from ten a.m. until seven p.m., with “regular breaks and an hour-long lunch.”
“The hours aren’t strict,” Lenore said.
Brandon nodded but didn’t look up from the papers.
“I mean, I don’t care if you start at nine or ten or six,” she said. “And I don’t really care if you work eight hours a day. We just have to get the job done.”
For some reason, she trusted him to do what he said he’d do, and she didn’t think he’d move into the cabin, hang a hammock in the trees behind it, and ignore her.
“I’m sure the hours won’t look uniform,” he finally said as he looked up. “Thank you for allowing me to stick to my late-rising schedule.”
He grinned, revealing his straight white teeth, and Lenore sure was glad she was already sitting so she wouldn’t swoon.
“The first is a Tuesday,” he said. “Do you mind if I move in on Saturday? My brothers can come help me that day.”
“Like six days from now?” Lenore asked.
Brandon tilted his head, his smile still stuck in place. “Yeah, like six days from now. I’m going to be starting eight days from now. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” Lenore said.
Jane arrived with the fruit platter. It came on a beautifully stained cheese board, done in a checkerboard pattern, with various fruits arranged perfectly with cheeses, nuts, and little pots of honey.
It was the most beautiful thing Lenore had ever seen, and she marveled at the deep red strawberries and the crinkly dried apricots, the glazed almonds and the salty pistachios. She saw cheeses she’d never heard of before, in little rounds and triangles.
“Wow,” Brandon said. “This is amazing.”
