“That’s more obvious than it being hot as Hades in Texas in the middle of August.”
Ellyn’s mouth drops open.
“It’s evident you live by yourself. But is there someone you can call to help you out? You shouldn’t be alone.”
I gesture toward the door.
“Especially not with the front door the way it is.” I frown as I look over the door that I had to break through to get inside earlier in the day.
“You left my daughter a message, right?” Ellyn asks.
“I did.” Ellyn had given me her youngest daughter’s name and number to call right before the hospital staff took her back to get X-rays. I’d only gotten the girl’s voicemail, so I left a message to let her know what was happening with her mother.
So far, though, I haven’t gotten a call or text back. Ellyn’s phone was left here in the rush to get her to the hospital.
“I’m sure I’ll hear from her soon. Speaking of my phone.” She looks around the room. “I think I left it in my bedroom.”
Without allowing her to finish, I head for her bedroom. A quick glance around the room, lands my eyes on the cell phone resting on the dark wood nightstand on the right side of the bed. As soon as I lift it, though, I notice something’s wrong.
“Damn, I let the battery drain,” Ellyn says when I hand her the phone and she attempts to turn it on.
She finally gets the phone turned on after plugging it into the portable charger that sits on the coffee table at the center of the living room.
“There’s still the matter of the door,” I say, eyeing the cracks and dent in the door frame.
I head over to inspect the door frame. Not much structural damage. Appears to be an easy fix.
“I’ll have to stop by tomorrow after I get some of my equipment from the ranch.”
“Stop by? For what?” Ellyn asks, confused.
I go to stand beside the couch again and gesture toward the door. “I did a number on it to get to you earlier. It won’t take more than a couple of hours to fix, though. The overall frame looks sturdy.”
“I can call a repairman to do that.”
“Why would you call a repairman when I can fix it by the end of the day tomorrow?” Besides,” I continue, not giving her time to answer, “you’ll need it fixed up in time for you to start decorating for the holidays.”
The words slip out before I think better of them.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she tuts. “I won’t be decorating.” Her voice is sharp, certain, and unyielding.
I snort. “You already made it clear on your feelings about entering the neighborhood holiday competition. Which is ridiculous, by the way. But surely, you’re planning to decorate inside.”
“Surely?” she repeats. “What makes you think Ihaveto decorate?”
“It’s Christmas.” I throw out my arms in frustration because the damn answer to her ridiculous question should be obvious.
“And?” she counters.
“What about?—”
A borderline hysterical voice interrupts my comeback question. “Mom?”
Seconds later, a young woman with eyes the same color as Ellyn’s barrels through the front door.
“Mom, are you here?”
“Meghan?” Ellyn calls out, twisting her body toward where the voice is coming from, but then flinches in pain.
