should have known she would dig her heels in about this, as she did about every other damn thing in their lives.
“This isn’t negotiable,” he said, trying not to grind his teeth. “Get dressed. I can give you half an hour.”
She stared at him for a long moment and apparently seemed to know he had drawn a line he wouldn’t let her cross.
“I hate you and I hate this stupid town!” she exploded. “Why couldn’t I have stayed in Portland with one of my friends or with Mrs. Sanchez?”
“You think Mrs. Sanchez would have extended the retirement she had been planning for a year in order to stay with you?”
“If you paid her enough, she would have! You just didn’t want to.”
A bleak sense of futility seemed to settle in his gut. His daughter would have preferred staying with their housekeeper to moving here and having a new adventure with him. She said she hated him. For all he knew, she meant the words.
Like the rest of the world, she blamed him for her mother’s death. He wanted to believe she didn’t think he was literally responsible for Jade’s drowning, that he had held her head underwater or something, but Peyton seemed to think he should have done more to help Jade when her addictions spiraled out of control.
The hell of it was, she was right. But by then, he was tangled in his own legal issues and busy trying to stay out of prison to spend much time worrying about the woman responsible for tangling him up in the whole mess in the first place.
“We’re a family, like it or not,” he said now, trying his best to keep his temper contained.
“I don’t,” she muttered under her breath.
“Look, you’ve convinced yourself you hate it here but we’ve only been here a few days. Give it time. I think you’ll change your mind. And I promise, first order of business for me is to hire a housekeeper. I’m working through an agency and expect to have someone by the end of the day.”
“I don’t see why we need a housekeeper.”
He couldn’t take any more. “Face it, kid. We’re slobs. I haven’t washed dishes in a long time. We need somebody to clean up after us, cook for us, run you around, be here if you break your thumbs with all that texting.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” she muttered.
“You will. Once you’ve been here awhile and have a chance to make some new friends, you’ll probably find all kinds of things to do. Meantime, today I would like you to come with me and be my moral support. Please. Just get dressed, Peyton.”
He could tell she wanted to offer more arguments but she finally slid off the bar stool.
He whispered a prayer of gratitude that at least he didn’t get another whatever out of her.
* * *
“GOOD NEWS. NOTHING’S broken.”
“What did I tell you?”
Charlotte shifted her aching ankle to a little more comfortable position on the exam table while her primary care physician, Susannah Harris, examined the X-ray displayed on the wall-hung light cabinet.
Dr. Harris tucked a strand of steel-gray hair behind her ear. “It’s not broken but your ankle is badly sprained. In my experience, sorry to say, a sprain can sometimes be more painful than a fracture.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, foreseeing a difficult week. “This is going to be a problem for me, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be. But I would recommend you stay off it for at least a week.”
“I can’t do that! What about the store? And my running? I have to exercise!”
Susannah had been with her through her whole weight-loss journey. She knew how deadly a change in routine could be for someone trying to establish new habits.
“Calm down, Charlotte. You can do this.”
Easy for Susannah to say. She was athletic and tough and ran marathons for fun.
“Have you done much swimming?” the doctor went on. “The new pool at the recreation center is wonderful. James and I went up over the weekend. They reserve it for lap swimming in the morning and it wasn’t very busy when we were there.”
When she was young, she used to swim all the time but since she had gained weight, she hated how she looked in a swimsuit too much to subject herself to that humiliation very often.
What other choice did she have? She couldn’t run on her ankle. Right now, she couldn’t even walk. She had a reclined exercise bike but the thought of pedaling made her ankle give an angry throb.
Yet another reason to be angry with Spence Gregory for coming back to town and ruining everything.
She frowned. Okay, in all fairness she couldn’t really blame him. How could he have known she would become so off balance to see him there that she would lose track of where she was running?
She could only imagine the trouble she could get into if he happened to walk past while she was swimming at the community center. Susannah would be treating her for a concussion from heedlessly ramming into the side of the pool.
“I’ll figure something out. Thanks, Susannah.”
“I’m going to write a scrip for some crutches. You can pick them up at our pharmacy here at the clinic. Use them, got it?”
“At least it’s my left foot. I can still drive, right?”
“If you’re careful.” The doctor gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry I can’t give you better news. But look at it this way—you don’t have to wear a cast.”
Small favors. This would definitely complicate her life. In addition to the difficulties at work, she would have to try very hard to make sure she didn’t lose hard-fought ground when it came to working out.
Susannah gazed at her computer screen for a moment. “It looks like you’ve lost another five pounds since I saw you two months ago. That’s fantastic, Charlotte. Doesn’t that put you right at your goal weight?”
She smiled. “Yes. Three pounds ago.”
“You’re an inspiration. You’ve added years to your life, you know. I can tell you that, if you hadn’t lost the weight, this injury probably would have been far worse—and I think you’ll find your ankle will heal much faster than it would have otherwise, since you’re more toned and your diet is more healthy.”
Of course, if she hadn’t lost the weight, she probably wouldn’t have been running in front of Spence Gregory’s just after sunrise to go sprawling into the street. But she decided not to mention that little fact to the doctor.
She left Susannah’s office with her ankle wrapped and her palm bandaged, wielding a rented pair of crutches.
She drove to work trying to figure out how she was going to handle parking. Most
