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“Bob isn’t a mutt, Daddy. He’s a Newfoundland. It took us a long time to find him, remember?” Cassie corrects him.
They gifted him to me a couple of years ago for my thirtieth birthday.
“He’s at the barn with the Alpacas,” I respond.
“Lee, what are we having for breakfast?” Dad repeats.
“Cereal?”
“Pancakes,” Cassie says, frowning at me. “We’re making pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon,” Cassie lists, sounding like she’s already planning a big meal.
“Sounds like a treat,” Dad says, smiling at me.
“It’s not a holiday, people,” I complain.
My family doesn’t understand that this place has to be ready for the guests in a couple of hours. I’ll have to bake several batches of chocolate chip cookies to replace the stench of bacon. Why don’t they go to the resort for breakfast? I glare at them, but the anger subsides when Lance reaches out for my hand and squeezes it.
It’s okay,he mouths.
“Come on, I’ll help you,” Lance offers, heading to the industrial refrigerator.
