Page 15 of Pine Creek Lodge
Sofia chuckled as she moved back to the stove to flip the French toast. "Don't worry," she said, glancing over her shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eye. "You didn't say or do anything weird. You were just a bit wobbly on your legs whenyou walked up the stairs." She paused, then added with a self-deprecating grin, "And so was I, to be honest."
Relief flooded through Nat, quickly followed by a fresh wave of embarrassment. She wasn't used to letting her guard down like that, especially not with a guest. But then again, last night hadn't felt like a typical guest-staff interaction. It had felt... like something else entirely.
Sofia's voice broke through Nat's reverie. "I've already taken Advil," she said, sliding a glass of water and two small pills across the counter. "Here, take these. They'll help with the headache."
Nat accepted the painkillers gratefully, washing them down with a long drink of water. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until the cool liquid hit her throat. “The storm,” she said in a croaky voice. “It’s unusual for storms to last this long.”
Sofia nodded. "I checked the weather reports this morning, and it looks like we might be in for at least another day of this."
Nat frowned, concern creeping in. "We get our fair share of snow, of course, but storms don't typically last this long." She bit her lip, thinking. "I should probably check in with the chalet management to let them know everything’s okay."
"Yes, that might be a good idea," Sofia said, sliding a plate of golden-brown French toast in front of Nat. The dish was artfully arranged, dusted with powdered sugar, and accompanied by a small pot of maple syrup and a bowl of fresh berries.
Nat stared at Sofia, a mixture of gratitude and shame washing over her. "You didn't have to do this," she said softly. "But thank you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."
Sofia sat down on the barstool next to Nat, putting down her own plate of French toast. "No need. Consider it my way of saying thank you," she said. "For a great night. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed someone's company like that."
Nat blushed and busied herself with pouring syrup over her French toast, hoping Sofia wouldn't notice. "It was my pleasure," she said, surprised by how much she meant it. "I enjoyed last night too. It’s just… the aftermath."
They looked at each other and both burst out in laughter.
“What do you do when you have a hangover?” Sofia asked.
“I ehm…” Nat shook her head. “You probably don’t believe this, but I rarely get hangovers. And in the rare occasions that I do, well, I tend to time those occasions wisely.”
“Okay.” Sofia chuckled. “And when you do time them wisely?”
“Then I’d have a lazy day on the couch in front of the TV,” Nat admitted. “What about you?”
“Same here,” Sofia said. “It doesn’t happen very often but in the unfortunate case like today, I just want to eat carbs and read a book under a blanket.” She picked up her French toast with her hand and took a big bite. “And trust me, I don’t often eat bad carbs so that shows I’m in as bad a state as you.”
“But you still got up and made breakfast,” Nat said, watching Sofia lick the sugar off her lips. Realizing she was staring, she shook her head and focused on her own breakfast. God, what was wrong with her? Was she still drunk?” Taking a bite, she had to admit, the French toast was delicious – crisp on the outside, custardy on the inside, with just the right balance of sweetness.
"This is amazing," she said through a mouthful. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
Sofia smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "My grandmother taught me. She always said that good food was the best cure for a hangover, and this is about the only thing I can make well." She chuckled. "Of course, she also said the best cure was to avoid drinking in the first place, but where's the fun in that?"
Nat laughed, then winced as the sound reverberated through her tender head. "Your grandmother sounds like a wise woman," she said, rubbing her temples. “I’m never drinking again.”
Sofia took a sip of her coffee and met Nat’s eyes over the rim of her cup. “How about this,” she said. “We have a hangover day together. “You watch your TV while I indulge in my selection of books.”
Nat blinked a few times, then laughed and shook her head. “No chance. I have to make the beds, clean the chalet, cook dinner…”
“Do you, though?” Sofia asked. “There’s only me here and I don’t need clean bedsheets. It’s spotless and you don’t need to cook either. I’ll order in later.”
Nat gave her an incredulous look and she put a hand on Nat’s shoulder. “Listen. I know this might sound strange to you and yes, it’s unconventional. But there’s a storm outside and we’re both not feeling our best so why not make the most of the day and chill out together?”
“That’s very sweet but I can’t,” Nat said. Duty called and she got up to make Sofia a freshly squeezed orange juice as she felt like she had to contribute at least something, however small. As soon as she was on her wobbly legs though, her head protested, and she immediately sat back down.
“See?” Sofia said triumphantly. “I win. You’re chilling out. No discussion.”
Chapter Eleven
Nat nestled deeper into the armchair, pulling the soft, woolen blanket tighter around her shoulders. On the large flat-screen TV mounted above the fireplace, the characters of some silly comedy moved through their predictable plot, their voices a soothing background noise to Nat's wandering thoughts.
Despite the cozy atmosphere and the gradual easing of her hangover, thanks to Sofia's French toast and the Advil, Nat couldn't quite shake the feeling that she should be doing something. Anything. The urge to jump up and start cleaning, to check on dinner preparations, or to make sure the generator was still running smoothly bubbled just beneath the surface of her forced relaxation.
But every time she so much as shifted in her seat, Sofia would shoot her a pointed look from where she sat curled up on the couch, her nose buried in one of the books Zoe had picked out. The message was clear: relax, or else.
