Page 13 of Juniper Hill (The Edens 2)

There was a reason I’d built my house on Juniper Hill and not on a plot on the ranch. Distance. My family could visit and if they needed to spend the night because they drank too much, well . . . they could crash in the loft. No pavement. No traffic. No neighbors.

My sanctuary.

Until now.

“It’s temporary,” I told myself for the thousandth time.

The swinging door that led to the restaurant flew open and Eloise waltzed in once more, a wide smile on her face.

I glanced past her shoulder, looking for Memphis, but Eloise was alone. “What’s up?”

“What are you making?” She hovered over my shoulder.

“Pico de gallo.” I didn’t have a huge menu, but it was enough to give the locals and hotel guests some variety. Each weekend, the dinner menu featured a special entrée. But for the most part, breakfast and lunch were consistent.

“Yum. Will you make Memphis a plate of tacos?”

The knife in my hand froze. “What?”

“Or whatever else you have on hand. I noticed that she didn’t bring anything with her this morning.”

The clock on the wall showed it was ten thirty. My two waitresses were in the dining room, rolling silverware into cloth napkins and refilling salt and pepper shakers. Mondays weren’t typically busy, but they weren’t quiet either.

There was no such thing as quiet these days.

Apparently not even at my own home or kitchen.

“I don’t make the other housekeepers lunch.”

“Knox, please. She just got here. I doubt she’s even had a chance to get to the grocery store.”

“Then let her leave early. You don’t need her cleaning today.”

“No, but we have paperwork to do. And orientation videos. I get the impression that she’d like the hours. Daycare is expensive. Please?”

I sighed. Please. Eloise wielded that single word the way a warrior would a sword. And I was being nice. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” She plucked a tomato cube from the cutting board and popped it into her mouth.

“What’s her story?”

“What do you mean?”

“That baby is the same age as Hudson.” Our nephew was two months old, and Winslow, though she pulled a shift here and there, was still on maternity leave. “Isn’t that young to have a kid in daycare full-time?”

“She’s a single working mother, Knox. Not everyone has the luxury of maternity leave.”

“I get that but . . . what’s the story with the kid’s father? Why’d she move all the way to Montana from New York?” And why had she taken that drive alone? That wasn’t a safe trip, especially with an infant. She should have had help. How did an educated, gorgeous woman end up traveling across the country alone with a baby and what seemed like every one of her possessions stuffed into a Volvo?

“I don’t know because it’s none of my business. If Memphis wants to talk about it, she will.” Eloise narrowed her gaze. “Why are you asking? I’m usually the curious one. Not you.”

“She’s living at my house.”

“Afraid she’s going to murder you in your sleep?” Eloise teased, stealing another tomato.

“I’d like to know who’s on my property.”

“My new employee, whose personal life is her own. And a mother new to Quincy. Which is why you’re going to make her lunch. Because I’m guessing she hasn’t had anyone make her a meal in weeks. Fast food doesn’t count.”