Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Maybe the worst had passed.
Scottie stifled a yawn, then reached for the remaining package of glue sticks.
She almost felt like her old self again.
The doctor had ruled out a concussion and her X-rays were normal, but fatigue still slowed her down.
Probably from her ear infection and awful cold.
Hopefully the antibiotics combined with the discharge paperwork recommending she stay home until she’d gone twenty-four hours without a fever would speed her recovery.
Although, to be honest, she’d relished lying low because she was still a little embarrassed about all the fuss after the accident.
Since her last temperature check—monitored by Lainey—had been normal, Scottie was determined to find a way to be useful.
“That’s the last one.” Scottie zipped up the backpack and set it in the storage container they’d acquired to hold all the backpacks filled with school supplies.
“Great job, everyone.” Lainey clapped and looked at Emma, Caroline, and Abbie, who’d come over to the bed-and-breakfast to help finish the project.
Dad sat at the end of the table, looking quite pleased with himself. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Lainey shook her head. “Next time, could you give us some advance warning?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I didn’t know the shipping was going to be that fast. Or free.”
Scottie couldn’t help but laugh. “You really should warn us next time.”
“No, because you’ll just tell me no.”
Awkward silence blanketed the room.
“Oh boy.” Emma winced. “I think we’re going to head out.”
“Yeah, we’ve got to get ready for the party at the resort,” Caroline said. “See you there?”
“Of course.” Lainey glanced at the timer ticking down on the oven. “Sure you don’t want to wait for a treat? The confetti blondie bars will be ready soon.”
“Wish I could, but I’ve got to run,” Abbie said. “Maybe next time.”
“Thanks for your help,” Scottie called after them as they filed out of the kitchen.
After the ladies were gone, Scottie glanced at her father. “Lainey was right. You went a little overboard. Why did you order so much?”
A genuine smile had spread across Lainey’s face. “Did you say I was right?”
“I did.” Scottie gave her a playful look. “Don’t get used to it though.”
They’d sat here for hours, sorting packs of glue sticks, erasers, and dry-erase markers into three groups. The sweet aroma of sugar and vanilla hung in the air. Now Lainey stood at the sink washing the stainless-steel bowl from her KitchenAid mixer.
Dad paused, his coffee mug halfway to his mouth, and stared at her over the rim.
“People have started to make a stink since the tidal wave that I need to do more with my money. As in do more to help the folks who live around here.”
“But I’ve had to keep after him because he wastes it,” Lainey said.
Uh-oh. Scottie shifted in her chair. “Wastes it? On what?”
“I don’t waste it,” Dad grumbled. “It’s my money.”
“You sure have a vast collection of…trinkets, Gary.” Lainey donned her oven mitts.
“Knives, Dukes of Hazzard paraphernalia, jerseys from professional sports teams. He says he can resell it anytime he wants, but not a lot of packages leave his house. Unless he has somebody else helping him with packing and shipping and I just don’t know about it. ”
“Tate helps me,” Dad said. “He’s a fine young man and he’ll do whatever I ask.”
Scottie’s breath hitched. The memory of Tate’s presence beside her bed in the ER had stuck with her.
Oh sure, he’d tried to act calm. But she’d seen the worry swimming in his eyes.
Heard the rough edge in his voice when he’d told her she’d scared him.
It was strange, comforting and unsettling. All at the same time.
Now the thought of Tate stepping in where her family spun out of control gave her pause.
“Do we need to talk about meeting with a financial planner, Dad? Or can I help you clean some stuff out of the house? What if you need to move into assisted living or a retirement community someday? Are you prepared for that?”
“That’s nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart,” Dad said, his eyebrows scrunching together. “I’ll handle it.”
Will you though?
A muscle in Lainey’s cheek jumped, then she craned her neck to peer out the window above the sink. “Somebody’s coming up the hill. Looks like Tate’s truck. Do you feel like a visitor?”
Scottie’s pulse sped. Tate. Another flicker of memory: him walking up to her at the side of the van after the accident, and later, his face above her in the ER, voice steady while her whole world blurred at the edges.
“So I want to say yes, but there’s something about your expression that tells me I should say no.” Scottie glanced from her dad to Lainey. “What have I done? What are you not telling me?”
The timer rang, and Lainey pulled a baking pan from the oven and set it on the cooling rack. “Relax, okay? I’m not keeping anything from you. But you have been sick. I wanted to make sure you’re up to seeing Tate, that’s all.”
A few minutes later, Tate paused in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a drink carrier with four to-go cups from Copper Kettle. His brown hair was still damp in places, and he wore his usual gray cargo pants and a white T-shirt layered under a gray fleece vest.
“Hey,” Scottie said.
“We were just talking about you,” Dad added, winking at Scottie.
Tate slid the carrier onto the counter. “All good things, I hope.”
Lainey’s brows raised but she didn’t say anything.
Tate’s eyes skimmed Scottie’s face as if he was taking inventory. “You look better. Feeling good?”
“Uh, not quite myself just yet, but thanks.”
“Are you sure you’re taking it easy? Doctor said rest, right?” His brow furrowed. “You shouldn’t push it.”
“I’m following orders,” she said. “Antibiotics, fluids, naps. I’m basically a model patient.”
“Glad to hear it. I brought you something special.” He lifted one of the cups. “Megan McGuire’s go-to concoction when people aren’t feeling well.”
“Oh? What is it?”
He grimaced. “I don’t know exactly, but she’s adamant it works.”
“I’ve tried it,” Lainey said. “It lives up to the hype.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.
” Scottie rose from the table and padded over to the counter.
He passed her the cup. The label printed from the register indicated that it was some kind of orangey-lemon hot tea.
She sat back down. Not her favorite, but she probably didn’t need all the sugar in a peppermint mocha anyway.
“Brought you an oat-milk latte. Hope you like it,” he said, passing a cup to Lainey.
“That’s nice of you, Tate. I appreciate it.” Lainey gestured to the pan of golden-yellow blondies dotted with pastel sprinkles. “These will be cool shortly if you’d like one.”
“Nope, I’m good,” he said. “Just wanted to check on Scottie.”
“I told you. We can always count on Tate to show up at just the right time,” Dad said.
“Aw, thanks, Gary.” Tate’s mouth curved up on one side, but his eyes still held a hint of worry. “I didn’t know you were here, but there is an extra Americano. Want it?”
“No, thank you.” Gary held up his mug. “I’m all set.”
Scottie turned her drink in a slow circle. “All right. Spill it, you two.”
Two red splotches clung to Tate’s cheeks.
Lainey rummaged in her drawer for a serving utensil. “Spill what?”
“Something must have happened. While I’ve been recovering, Lainey’s been extra nice.”
“Hey.” Lainey scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always nice.”
“You’re being especially attentive,” Scottie said.
Tate avoided her gaze and sipped his coffee.
Lainey cleared her throat. “There are guests hanging out upstairs. Why don’t you two go out on the porch? You probably want to have this conversation by yourselves.”
“Come on. The chairs on the front porch look comfy,” Tate said. “You need a blanket?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Scottie tugged her blanket off the back of the chair, draped it over her shoulders, and followed Tate outside.
Sunlight bathed the hillside in pale yellow. Birds chirped and a monarch butterfly flitted past. Tate led the way to the far end of the porch, where two white wooden rocking chairs sat side by side, a small table between them. She sat.
“Thanks for everything you’ve done,” she said. “I mean, I don’t remember half of it, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Tate claimed the other chair. “I’d do anything to help you, Scottie. You know that.”
Oh. The words landed too close to a tender spot she desperately wanted to avoid. Tugging the blanket tighter, she braced the hot tea on her knee and rocked.
Keep moving, keep shooting, keep chasing the next adrenaline rush. Then she didn’t have to deal with the mess pooling around her.
“Well, the sooner I can get my mojo back, the better I’ll be.”
“Your mojo?”
“A few months ago, I was working on a movie in Arizona. Theo might have mentioned it—Valley of Fire. It hasn’t been released yet, but this huge piece of equipment fell and almost killed me.”
Tate grew still. “What?”
“Yes. If I had been even an inch closer…” She stopped and sipped. Honey and lemon and orange slid warm down her throat, then settled like a rock. She hadn’t told many people, because talking about it made it real, and that would only open the door to questions she couldn’t answer.
Or didn’t want to.
“Does Damian know about this?”
“He does. But the show must go on, as they say. That’s one of the reasons why I took this job for Ultimate Alaskan.
To prove to Damian, and myself, that I’m fine.
Back on the proverbial horse and all that.
Sometimes camera operators get injured.” The words tumbled out.
Like she had to justify her behavior to him.
“And I have a reputation for being super brave. A real adrenaline junkie.”
“Well, you should stop it,” Tate said, frowning.
Her skin prickled. “Stop what?”