Darla sits my breakfast of caramelized apple fries smothered in cinnamon chocolate sauce and southwestern hash before me. She taps my empty glass. “More milk?”

I nod. “Yes, please.”

Darla retrieves the milk jug and fills the glass just as Meg steps behind the counter. “Thought I paid someone to do this,” she says, her eyes are focused on her task, but her voice booms to fill the diner.

Tyson Wheeler, Darla’s grandson and co-cook, chuckles as he flips four pancakes so fast, my heart jolts. Over the past four days, I’ve watched him and marveled at his flashy skill. I wonder if I’ll ever get so comfortable with my baking, I’ll make it look like play. Darla doesn’t like Tyson’s overzealous work as much as her customers do, and she threatens to grate his ass with a potato peeler if his actions cost her profit, but Tyson has yet to fumble.

Meg rolls her eyes and takes the milk jug from Darla. “Can’t a lady pee in peace?”

“Not with Hoss around,” I say as I stab an apple fry. Every time I use the bathroom, my great aunt’s asshole cat materializes and perches on the bathroom sink; his attention solely on me. If I move too fast, or the natural sounds of toileting myself reach a certain level, Hoss growls like a demon being castrated.

I’ve complained to Aunt Veronica, and she’s told me I need to either scare Hoss so bad he’ll think twice before joining me in the bathroom or bribe him. I fear the cat’s retaliation if I dare frighten him, so bribery it is. Today, I can’t forget the cat treats before I head back to my great aunt’s farm.

“Veronica’s cat?” asks the woman next to me; the one I’ve seen every day I’ve come into the diner. She only orders heavily buttered toast and apple juice.

“Yep.”

The woman smiles. “Why, he’s just a big old sweetie. When I visit Veronica’s for my wellness sessions, he sits in my lap and purrs up a storm.”

I eye the woman. She has a flighty air about her, the very sort of person I believe would go to a backyard herbalist instead of a certified doctor for her wellbeing. If Hoss likes the woman, that just adds one more reason for me to feel abhorrence toward the cat.

“Oh, that’s...nice,” I say as I return my attention to my food. I shovel in forkfuls of the hash to convey I don’t want to talk further. The woman watches me for a second longer, smiles again, and attacks her toast.

Halfway through my meal, I open the newspaper I took from Aunt Veronica’s porch this morning after being chased out of the house (Aunt Veronica despises the idea of me hanging around the farm all day). I flip to the classifieds, though with little hope. For days I’ve searched for a job to no prevail. I either don’t have the training or the minimum wage pay is beneath me.

After reading every ad, I sigh and shove the newspaper away in disgust. It slides in Meg’s direction and might have plummeted behind the counter if not for the waitress’ quick intervention.

“I’m sorry,” I say as Meg folds the discarded newspaper.

“Hey, no problem. I get pissy after reading the opinions’ section, too.”

I smirk. “No, it’s not that.”

“What’s got you—” Meg stops as two new patrons walk through the door. She excuses herself to welcome them and returns moments later to retrieve their drink orders. “What’s wrong with you?” Meg asks.

“I need a job.” An idea strikes me. “Hey, are you hiring?” I ask Darla.

The cook looks over her shoulder at Meg, who has gone back to her newest table with the pair’s drinks. Meg now has her order pad and pen out and grins as she explains today’s special. “I will if I have to cover any more unscheduled pee breaks,” Darla says.

Meg’s grin doesn’t falter, but her fingers tighten around her pen.

I frown. “Ah, okay.”

Darla gestures at Tyson and points at the flat top grill. “Watch these eggs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Darla leans on the counter in front of me. “You picky about the kind of job?”

I think about the Burger King ad I will never consider. “I don’t think I’m too picky.”

“Can you clean?”

“My, uh, roommates in college never complained.”

Darla cocks an eyebrow. “Think a dorm room can compare to a house?”

I shrug. “Don’t see why there’d be too much of a difference.”

Darla pulls a cell phone out of her back pants’ pocket. “Eh, it’s not like the Kings can afford to be picky either.” She dials a number and presses the phone to her ear. A second later, “Hey, it’s Darla.” She waits. “Yep, yep. Everything’s fine. Nah, I just called with some good news. I found you a new housekeeper.” Another pause, this one longer. “I think so,” Darla finally says and nods. “Sure, okay. I’ll let her know. Bye.”

The cook hangs up and returns her phone to her back pocket. Then she finds a napkin and pen and writes down an address with directions. When done, she hands the napkin to me. “Now, the Kings are incredibly busy this week. They’re only available tomorrow at ten for an interview.”

I feel genuine happiness for the first time in days. “Yeah, that’s no problem.”

“Well, you can’t be late, not even by a second. Jenna is—isn’t one to tolerate tardiness.”

My happiness dims. “Is she...bad?”

Darla pats my wrist. “Just stay out of her way, and you’ll do fine. I hear she’s not home a lot, so it shouldn’t be horrible.”

“Oh, okay.” I smile. “Thank you so much.”

Darla waves me off. “Wouldn’t want you to go without money, would I?” She winks. “You’re quickly becoming a regular.”

I rub my stomach. “I’ll be a fat one in no time.”

Darla laugh. “Those are the best.”

She goes back to her grill, and I dive into my breakfast. A calm has settled on me. Now, Aunt Veronica will stop hounding me, and I can rebuild my self-confidence my father’s rejection crumbled. Maybe in a few months, I’ll focus on my bakery plans again.

Meg steps behind the counter to give her newest patrons’ orders, and to drop off dirty dishes from a couple of tables. She nods at me. “So, I still have my job?”

“Yeah. Darla got me something else.” I show her the written-on napkin. “See? I’ll be a housekeeper here.”

Meg reads the address, and her lips purse. “Oh, that’s—Sure you want to work there?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Meg’s eyes widen. “You haven’t heard about the Kings yet?”

“No.”

“They are—”

“Meg, shut your trap,” Darla calls.

Meg turns toward her boss. “She has a right to know.”

Darla shakes her head. “It’s not our business.”

“But—”

“Besides, she’ll discover it soon enough. The Kings aren’t secret about it.”

I glance at the napkin, and my stomach churns. “Maybe I shouldn’t...”

“Now don’t let stupid town gossip get to you,” Darla says as she loads a plate with food. “The Kings are good people who pay well. You keep that appointment, and you won’t regret it.”

Meg rolls her eyes. “Say that to their previous four housekeepers,” she mumbles just loud enough for my ears.

Darla shoves the full plate of food into Meg’s hands. “She won’t regret it.”

***

Though I don’t feel the best, I finish my food and leave the diner. I debate taking the napkin, but in the end, my need for money overrides my apprehension. Plus, Meg and Darla have sparked my curiosity. What about the Kings would make me not want to work for them? I ponder the question on my way to Aunt Veronica’s house, and none of my answers fit Darla’s assurances the Kings aren’t the devil and Meg’s shock.

As I pull into the driveway, next to a Kia I haven’t seen before (I’m not worried for I assume the car belongs to another of Aunt Veronica’s clients, like the woman in the diner), I wonder if I can get the information from Aunt Veronica. She must know about the Kings. She might seem like a hermit out of touch with the world, but from my few days with her, I know that assumption couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I enter the house just as my great aunt’s client leaves. The lanky man wears too many layers for the time of year, and won’t meet my eye, but he smiles at me and wishes me a good day before stepping onto the front porch. I watch him get into his car and drive away before I search for my great aunt.

Aunt Veronica sits at her kitchen table with multiple binders and a five-inch thick book on herbology. She chuckles when she catches my frown. “You know you look just like your father.”

I force a neutral expression. “Don’t you feel bad about keeping people from seeing a proper doctor?”

Aunt Veronica smirks. “You have no idea what I do. Why not take five minutes and find out?”

“I’ve got more important things to do than listen to debunked remedies.”

Aunt Veronica laughs again. “Now you sound just like your father.”

I feel my cheeks redden. “Whatever.” I turn around. “I’m going for a run or something.”

“Why not look for a job?”

I whirl back to face my great aunt. I slam the written-on napkin on the table. “Got an interview for one.”

Aunt Veronica studies the napkin. She bursts into laughter so hard she snorts, and she can’t breathe for thirty seconds.

“What’s so funny?”

My great aunt wipes her eyes. “Of course, you’d get involved with them.”

“That’s a joke, why?”

Aunt Veronica shakes her head and waves me away. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

I snatch the napkin and march to my room.