“Mark doesn’t check in with you about my aunt?”
“What? Of course not! Like I said, I hardly ever speak to him. And I certainly wouldn’t everspyon a client on behalf of her family members.”
“You didn’t tell him about Aunt Ivy leaving the gas on?”
Zoey could practically see the lightbulb going on above his head when he remembered. “Yeah. I did. But only because he happened to call right in the middle of the incident.” Nick explained that even though the fumes were negligible, in an abundance of caution he brought Ivy to Sylvia’s room, opened all the windows and closed her door. Sylvia was too weak to get out of bed or leave the house and he didn’t want either woman to feel nauseated from the smell. Which meant Ivy wasn’t available downstairs to answer the landline when Mark called.
“It kept ringing and I thought there might be an emergency, so I picked up and told Mark that she’d have to call him back later. Understandably, he wanted to know what was going on. I gave him the bare facts, that’s it. The only other times I’ve spoken to him lately have either been when I came to Sylvia’s funeral or when we discussed the kitchen remodel and the stove—and I had Ivy’s approval to do that that.”
Zoey swallowed. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood something he told me.” Nick blinked a couple of times but didn’t say anything in response, so she feebly joked, “Didn’t I warn you I was hypervigilant when it comes to my family?”
Someone behind them honked to indicate the light had turned green, so Nick pulled forward into the hospital parking lot, slowing as they approached the ER department entrance. He put the transmission into park. “I’ll go get you a wheelchair.”
“Why? Are your arms too tired to carry me the rest of the way?” she chaffed him, but he got out of the truck without laughing. Without even smiling. Her heart dropped two ribs lower in her chest, heavy with regret for insulting him. She intended to apologize again as soon as he returned, but a medical assistant came with him, pushing a wheelchair.
Nick helped transfer her from his truck into the chair so the assistant could wheel her inside. “Good luck,” he said curtly before leaving to find a parking space.
The nurse brought Zoey into an exam room and took her medical history but it was another thirty minutes before the physician came in. He had a mop of dark ringlets, tanned forearms and bright blue eyes, although they weren’t as pretty as Nick’s—not that Zoey was comparing. No surprise, he wore a wedding band.
“Hello, Ms. Jansen. I’m Dr. Socorro. Sorry for the wait. I’m actually an ER pediatrician but we’re short-staffed today,” he explained. “When they paged me to cover a shift, I was surfing, so if you smell something fishy, it’s me.”
“I’m glad there’s someone else on this island who doesn’t think it’s too early in the season to go swimming.”
“It’s never too early. Never too late, either.” The skin around his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Zoey had become glummer and glummer about Nick the longer she’d been waiting but the doctor had such a magnetic personality she couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, tell me how you got your owie—sorry, force of habit. Tell me about your injury.”
After she explained, Dr. Socorro removed the three-inch splinter with an instrument that actually looked a lot like a carpenter’s pair of pliers—but unlike Nick could have done, he numbed the area, first. Before he left he gave her the contact info of a doctor who could do a wound check and said he’d give her printed information about how to keep the area clean.
“It should heal up nicely,” he assured her. “I think the worst part of this accident is that it’s going to prevent you from going swimming for a few days.”
No, the worst part of my accident is that I’ve messed up the… thefriendshipI was just starting to form with Nick,Zoey thought.
It took a while for the nurse to bring her the necessary paperwork and when she ambled into the waiting lounge some fifteen minutes later, she saw Nick before he saw her. Sitting in the chair nearest the exit, he was resting his forearms on his thighs and gazing down as he swung the purple thermal bag back and forth like a metronome in the open space between his knees.He must be so bored,Zoey thought.How many other guys would wait this long in an ER for someone they hardly know?
He didn’t notice her until she lowered herself onto the chair beside him and said, “Hi, Nick.”
He sat up straight and swiveled his head to look at her. “All done?”
“Yeah. Sorry it took so long. Thanks for waiting.”
“What else was I going to do? Make you take the bus home?”
“After what I said to you about my aunt, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did… I really jumped to an unfair assumption, but it wasn’t because of you.It was because of me. Because I took something my cousin said the wrong way and I have this fear that…” Zoey didn’t know how to explain her error without telling Nick that she was concerned Mark was trying to take over their aunt’s house—and she didn’t think it was appropriate to go into all of that with him. So she just said, “I’m really sorry I insulted you and I hope you’ll forgive me.”
For an agonizing moment, Nick rubbed his forehead before responding. “It’s okay. I get it. Family dynamics can affect a person’s perspective in strange ways.” He handed her the thermal bag. “But I did eat both of the cinnamon rolls your aunt packed for us while I was waiting—I figured you owed me that much. I drank the milk, too.”
Zoey threw back her head and laughed. “Were they as good as they smelled?”
“Better.” Then he stood up and offered her his arm. She didn’t refuse it, even though her calf was still too numb to feel any pain and she could have sprinted to his truck if she’d wanted to.
* * *
Zoey had to admit it, Mark was right. With its black, shiny finish, brass trim, and classy design, Ivy’s modern-but-vintage-looking stove really did emphasize how outmoded and unsightly the rest of the kitchen was. Sylvia may have once described the white tile backsplash and yellow laminate countertops as sunny, but over the years the colors had dulled several shades. Zoey had installed higher-wattage bulbs in the overhead light, but they only accentuated the contrast between the old and new.
It’s not my house, it’s not my business,she reminded herself.As long as Aunt Ivy is happy with it, that’s all that matters.
The problem was, Ivydidn’tseem happy with it. In fact, for that first week after Nick and Aidan installed the range, she wouldn’t allow anyone to use the oven. They were permitted to use the burners on the stovetop, but not to bake or broil anything inside it. Ivy claimed it was because she’d never had such a sparkling clean oven before and she didn’t want it to get dirty right away, but Zoey had a hunch she regretted purchasing it. And that the real reason she didn’t want to get it dirty was because she was considering returning the appliance.
After preparing stovetop or cold meals all week—since the gas tank for the outdoor grill was empty—Zoey was growing tired of it. Ivy had suffered several crying spells that week, so she didn’t want to say anything that might make her feel pressured, for fear she’d send her spiraling into sorrow again. But on Sunday evening while Gabi and Ivy were drinking tea in the living room and she was sipping ice water, Zoey hinted that it was time for Ivy to break in the new oven.
