“Something like that.”
“How’s Maggie?”
“She’s sleeping.” Chloe poured me a glass of sweet tea and slid it over as Kipp dropped onto the stool beside me.
“The doctor says the break was bad,” Kipp said. “She might have a limp.”
The words thudded in my chest. When Wade called, I’d imagined the worst. Maggie had been cleaning gutters alone before a storm, fallen, and broken her tibia badly enough that she’d had to crawl to a phone. The image still made me sick.
We’d all been off living our lives while she’d been here, getting older, doing too much alone. I’d been avoiding her (and avoiding the memories). Now she was paying for my absence.
“She’s strong,” Chloe said. “Eight to twelve weeks recovery. We just have to keep her off her feet.”
Wade grabbed a notepad from the junk drawer. “We’ll make a schedule. I’ll take what shifts I can, but?—”
“I can be here,” I cut in. “My jobs are flexible.”
We mapped out time slots: Sage between the flower store she had in town, Chloe between nursing shifts, and Kipp taking time off. Somehow, it almost felt like the old days, everyone pulling together.
Then came a thump in the hallway.
“Mom,” Chloe scolded as Maggie appeared, maneuvering her crutches like she was marching into battle. “You should’ve waited for help.”
“Got to move or lose it,” Maggie said, ignoring her.
“East.” Her face softened when she saw me. “You here to sign my cast?”
I eased her into the recliner, my chest tight. She looked smaller than I remembered, but her eyes were bright.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Looks like they’ve already been decorating.”
“They’ve done some artwork,” she teased, pride lacing her voice. “Now don’t fuss over me. Chloe’s got me all set up. I’ll be fine.”
Sage handed her a plate with a cinnamon roll the size of my fist. The smell hit me first—warm, buttery, sweet enough to knock me sideways.
“That’s one of Lila’s,” Maggie said, catching me looking. “You can have half.”
I didn’t argue. It was the best damn thing I’d tasted in years.
“Who’s Lila?” I asked, licking glaze from my thumb.
“You remember Nora Merrick’s shop downtown?” Wade said.
I nodded. The bookstore-coffee hybrid had been a haven when I was a kid—quiet, full of paperbacks and the smell of coffee.
“When Nora passed, her granddaughter took over,” Chloe said. “Lila. She added a bakery case. Her cinnamon rolls are famous now.”
Sage nudged me with a grin. “You’ll love it. She’s across from my shop, and customers fight over whatever she drops off.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I muttered, though my curiosity sparked. I couldn’t place her face, but the name tugged at something.
“She’s good for this town,” Maggie said. “People need a place to sit and talk. She makes it feel like home.”
That word. Home, landed hard. It always did. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from it or reach for it.
The evening blurred into family chatter. Wade worked out duty shifts. Chloe fussed over meds. Kipp disappeared, and Sage hummed while clearing dishes. Eventually, the house quieted until only the crackle of the fire and Maggie’s slow breathing filled the air.
“East,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re home.”
