Page 38 of A Simple Life

“No, he needs something solid. Do a big bowl of soup and a grilled bacon and cheese sandwich. Triple-decker with tomatoes.”

“Done.”

I grabbed the last salad and a large glass of ice water. I had noticed John liked his beverages cold. I added ranch to his salad, already knowing that was his favorite dressing, and went out front. Chloe was cleaning off the last of the tables, and aside from John, there was a table of four older men who came in most days for pie and coffee.

I carried his salad and water to the table, sliding it in front of him. “Start with this. The rest will be out in a couple of minutes.”

“Great.” He cleared his throat. “Can you sit?”

“In a few moments. Eat,” I urged.

He picked up his fork and dug in, crunching the lettuce and cucumbers. “Delish,” he hummed.

I helped Chloe with a couple of things, then headed to the back, picking up the huge plate. The bowl was massive, and I chuckled. “Is that one of our serving dishes?”

Clint grinned. “John is known for his big appetite.”

I carried it to John’s table, sliding it in front of him. His eyes widened at the sight of the meal.

“You joining me?”

“Not to eat.”

“You think I can eat all this?”

I fixed him with a look, and he grinned. “I see my reputation preceded me.”

“It did. Eat. You look like you could fall down.”

He dipped his spoon in the bowl, groaning. “I love beef barley soup.”

“I make it myself.”

“Even better.”

He ate steadily, his manners impeccable. He hummed and praised the food, and I let him eat, pleased to see the color coming back to his face and the light glint in his eyes again.

Chloe cashed out the last table and waved to them as they left. I called out my thanks, then told Chloe to lock up. I grabbed a cup of coffee and slid into the booth across from John.

“I think I’m going to change the hours to three,” I mused. “We rarely get anyone after two-thirty.”

John nodded. “More time with Abby.”

“Yep. I can start on the next day prep and get home sooner.”

“Good plan, then.”

“Why do you look so tired, John?”

He chewed and swallowed a bite of his sandwich, wiping his mouth. “The wire the tenant hit was major. It caused a small fire, which we had to clean up and get checked to make sure there wasn’t more hidden in the walls, then I had to have a bunch of rewiring done. One of my neighbor’s donkeys went rogue and busted down a fence I had to fix before they trampled my crops. Laura’s odd client went crazy and accused her of holding back the perfect house for her. She rampaged her office, and Laura called me, terrified, and Bob and I rushed down and had to call the cops on this woman. Turns out the house she thought Laura was hiding was an ad in the paper she’d seen for a model home in another province that used a small-town background from here. Laura has convinced her to look elsewhere for a house.” He scrubbed his face. “It’s been a hell of a couple of days.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. The woman has moved on. Last Laura heard, she was booking a flight to Ohio. Laura didn’t press charges, but the woman’s husband is paying for all the damages.”

“Wow.”

He reached across the table, taking my hand. “All of that kept me from you, Quinn. I was so exhausted when I got home last night at two a.m., I fell asleep facedown at the kitchen table while eating a bowl of cereal.”