A House Doesn't Make A Home

I skulked to the door, opening it without having to use my key. There were two women, one older and one younger. The older woman was sitting with Ginny, laughing. The younger one was cooking something that smelled delicious. Maybe it's our dinner? My stomach growled.

"You have fresh linens on your bed and I cleaned up some of your crap lying around." She didn't even look up from the pan she was stirring. She was like an A****n warrior: tall, gorgeous, and intimidating. "Wash up. I'll serve dinner once your mom is home."

"My mom works late on Tuesdays." I waited for her to introduce herself.

I stepped forward and she snipped at me "What do you want, Tara."

"A name would be nice." Wow, that came out with more attitude than I was trying to give. I'm not a harsh toned person. "And thank you, whoever you are, for everything."

"Names Naomi." No explanation of how she came to be here or a last name, just Naomi. 

"Okay. Thanks again, Naom