Chapter 42
“I blame the fried chicken.”
-Celia
I woke up in a quiet house. It was dark in the guest room. I grabbed my phone and looked at the time - six o’clock. I slept the afternoon away. Dang. I was still tired.
But the good news was, my headache was mostly gone. Just a lingering tingle at the base of my skull. A cup of coffee would take care of that.
I sat up, stretched, and listened.
Nothing. No sounds of life.
I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The only sounds I heard in the house were the hum of the fridge and the click of the furnace when it turned on.
Flint’s vehicle was still in the driveway.
I wandered toward the garage. It was empty.
I headed back to the guest room to get my phone when a note on the door caught my eye. I missed it on the first trip through the house.
“Celia, I know you’re not feeling well, so we let you sleep. Had some ranch business to take care of. Will be back in time for dinner. XO, Flint.”
Sure would have been nice if the big lug said what time dinner was.
I sighed. He was considerate to let me sleep off the headache and fatigue from yesterday’s hard work while he was probably back at it this afternoon. And I was turning into Ms. Cranky Pants. I definitely needed more sleep.
I decided to pack while I waited. Make it easier for us to hit the road in the morning. It didn’t take long, and I placed my suitcase in the giant bathroom to add my remaining toiletries in the morning. I looked at the time. Fifteen minutes. I killed 15 minutes.
My stomach rumbled as I got a brilliant idea.
Before I knew it, my feet were moving me into the kitchen as I opened the giant Viking refrigerators and peered inside. A half-lemon, four eggs, and an empty bacon wrapper looked back at me from the bare shelves.
How on earth were these huge fridges so empty?
I peeked inside the freezer. Nothing substantial there either. Well, there were ice cream drumsticks, but nothing else.
So much for my plan to make dinner for everyone.
I slumped against the island.
Time for Plan B - fried chicken from The Gracie Spoon. I hurried back to the guest room, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed my purse.
Flint’s keys winked at me from the dresser. I snatched them up and turned toward the door, nearly tripping over two reusable shopping bags on the floor. My snack bag and portable coffeemaker. I snickered when I remembered Flint’s face from the start of our road trip. Had that only been two days ago? Feels like forever.
Since I wouldn’t need either of those bags in the morning, I decided to take them out to the SUV with me. Save on the loading time tomorrow.
I smiled to myself as I headed down the driveway toward town.
???
Except for the bells on the door that jingled when I entered, The Gracie Spoon was dead silent. The place was empty.
“Uh, hello?” I called out.
Sonni, the waitress, appeared from the kitchen. “Oh! Hey! Come on in.”
