“They certainly seem tight—a tight family. I really like working there. And since I am, and I’m drawing a paycheck—and damn good tips—I want to start paying rent.”
“Absolutely not. I said no,” Olivia continued as Morgan started to protest. “I will not take your money. Do I take yours, Audrey?”
“No.”
“And there you have it. I’d have been alone in this house without Audrey, and I likely couldn’t have kept it. Too much for a woman my age all alone, and too empty. Now I have you here as long as you want to stay. You’ll make your own home again one day, but for now it’s here. You want some other responsibilities, that’s different. You can make dinner once a month on your day off.”
“You want me to cook?”
“Your pork chop dinner was really good,” Audrey reminded her. “We didn’t have to lie. You can just stick with that or expand, whatever. Mom and I like to cook, but it’d be nice to have a meal we didn’t cook ourselves or bring home.”
“Preparing a meal teaches independence,” Olivia added. “I’m always surprised you don’t, since that’s your middle name.”
“My middle name’s Nash.”
“Exactly.” And Olivia smiled with it. “And you can start saving up to buy a car, one that doesn’t have your mother and me worried every time you drive off in it. We can be grateful to Nina’s family and still know that’s a breakdown waiting to happen. I can use peace of mind more than money.”
“All right.”
“We’ll be gardening soon, and can use your help there.”
“And, Jesus, child, stop snipping at your own hair.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “Go to the salon. Styling right down from the shop does good work.”
Morgan pushed a hand at her hair. “I thought I was doing okay with it.”
“No.” Audrey spoke definitely. “I know you’ve made a budget. That’s her second middle name,” she said to her mother. “Budget in hair. You meet the public every day now. You need to look your best.”
“A facial wouldn’t hurt.”
Now Morgan slapped both hands on her face. “My face!”
“Is beautiful.” Audrey smiled and soothed. “But you need some pampering. They do amazing facials at the resort, and you’d get an employee discount. You need to treat yourself. Now we should all treat ourselves to some beauty sleep.”
“I’ve got the dishes. I can sleep till noon if I want.” Wouldn’t, Morgan thought, but could.
“Night then.” Audrey wrapped her in a hug. “Congratulations on your first day as manager.”
As Morgan dealt with the dishes, she considered that she’d always lived in a female household. Her father had so frequently been absent, then just gone. Then she’d lived with Nina.
But she’d never been outnumbered, two to one.
Chapter Nine
Friday night. The end of the workweek for many meant a busy night at Après. And that put Morgan right in her element. As she mixed, shook, stirred, tapped, she decided that despite the horrible last year, she’d rung the bell.
She’d needed a job because she needed to earn a living, and with the first swing, she’d landed one she enjoyed. And one that helped her find Morgan again.
The capable Morgan, the Morgan who made plans and worked toward them. The Morgan who had a knack for bringing a bright spot to a stranger’s day.
Whatever Gavin Rozwell had stolen from her, she still had her skills, and after a bumpy road, she’d relocated her spine. She intended to make good use of both.
At the bar, she served Keith and Martin, a couple celebrating their fifth anniversary—dry vodka martinis, three olives—and listened to their weekend plans.
“He’ll hit the gym.” Keith, adorable in his navy blue glasses, rolled his eyes behind them. “And drag me along.”
“Because I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Then a swim.” Martin took the first sip of his drink. “Whoa! Now that’s what I call a martini. How about you come back to Burlington with us and make all our Friday night martinis? We’d treat you like a princess.”
“Do I get a tiara?”
“Naturally.”
“Sign me up.”
She slid down the bar to fill a table order from one of the waitstaff.
And she knew Opal—twelve years in—had plenty of reservations about the new manager.
While Morgan filled the order, Opal—forty-three, sturdy build, brown hair in a no-nonsense bowl cut—rang up the check for a second table.