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“And that landed him here how? It’s not like you really need the extra set of hands,” I point out, knowing that with five sons my father stopped hiring outside help years ago.
“Jack called to see if I could make a spot for him, so I did. There’s always plenty to do, and with the warm season quickly approaching there will be enough work to go around and then some.”
“Has he been here long?” I try to keep my questions as casual as possible.
“About eight months.”
“Really?” I’m a little taken aback that in all the conversations I’ve had with my family over the course of the last eight months that no one mentioned that someone else was living here.
“How long will he be here?”
“Hard to say.” He shrugs. “We had him staying in Ben’s old room originally, but now that the weather is warmer he’s in the old camper out back. Grown man like that needs his privacy.”
I bite back the urge to ask more questions, knowing my father needs to get back to work, so I settle for a simple nod of agreement.
“Here you go, honey.” My mom sets a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon in front of me and a plate with bacon in front of the twins.
“Thanks, Mom.” My stomach instantly growls. While Los Angeles offers a lot in the way of food, nothing compares to farm fresh eggs and my mom’s incredible pancakes.
“Why don’t you come out and help me once you’ve finished breakfast?” my father suggests, grabbing his jug of water off the counter.
“Sure.” I smile, even though it’s the last thing I want to do. I was never one for ranch life. Hence why I left the first chance I got.
“See you out there.” He nods, grabs his jacket from next to the door, and disappears outside moments later.
