The Complete Christmas Collection. Rebecca Winters

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      “I FEEL A lot better now.” Grace tried to sound emphatic, but her voice quavered a bit as she wobbled against Nico’s side. He’d been in the clinic’s waiting room, seated in the midst of texting teenagers and a mother with a screaming baby, when Grace had limped out, crutches under her arms and a medical boot on her right foot. On her left she wore one of Patsy’s running shoes, which her friend kept in her office in case she decided to use the treadmill in the workout room. A nurse had put an athletic sock over her injured foot before showing her how to put the boot on. “I can go back to work.”

      “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “But that’s already been decided. Patsy said to tell you that she’d take over for you at the fund-raiser and she’d see you in the morning. If you’re okay to come to work in the morning, that is. What’s the verdict?”

      “A nasty sprain, but nothing is broken. I need to stay off of it as much as I can, treat it with ice and keep it elevated.”

      “Okay. Let’s go get it elevated and iced.”

      “I have to pick up a prescription. Would you mind taking me to Kinney’s?” Her foot ached, but the twelve-year-old doctor had called in a prescription for painkillers at the pharmacy. “If you could help me get home, I would appreciate it.”

      Nico was silent as he opened the door and helped her down the freshly shoveled ramp to the parking lot. His familiar Toyota 4Runner sat in a handicapped spot.

      “Isn’t that illegal?”

      “At seven thirty at night? With a woman on crutches?” He beeped the doors open and settled her into the passenger seat. “There. How bad is the pain?”

      “I’m trying not to cry,” she admitted. He looked so concerned. She wanted to tell him not to worry about her, that she would be fine, but he backed away and shut the door.

      “First stop, drugs,” he announced once he was behind the wheel. The car was warm, despite the cold temperature and the light snow flurries that danced in the air.

      “Thank you.” She adjusted her seat belt and turned toward him. “I would have called Patsy for a ride home. I didn’t expect anyone to be waiting for me.” She’d felt a surprising mixture of relief and pleasure when she’d seen him sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs and reading an old issue of Sports Illustrated.

      “Is there anyone I can call for you? Family?”

      “My father lives in Boston, but he’s out of town for the holidays.” Not that he would have been at all helpful. “And my aunt, who lives in Saranac, has gone to help my cousin, who just had another baby. In Arizona.” She had friends, good friends, but it was four days before Christmas and no one needed an injured friend in their spare bedroom, or worse, on their living room couch. Even Karen, the one person she would have called after Patsy, had a houseful of in-laws and a set of eight-month-old twins.

      “So you’re stuck with me.” Nico shot her a grin.

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “No, but you’re thinking it.”

      “Just a little.” She couldn’t help laughing. It was either that or burst into tears. She wanted to curl up in her bed and pretend it was July.

      He left the car running while he picked up the prescription, which gave Grace time to wonder how Nico was going to carry her up a flight of stairs to her little condo. He’d had no trouble carrying her down the stairs at the inn a few hours ago, but going up was a different deal. She could sit down and scoot on her rear, step by step. It would be cold, slow and undignified, but not impossible.

      This was starting to get complicated. Maybe Patsy had found her a room at the lodge. If she could just get into a bed and lie down for a few hours, she was sure she’d feel better.

      Nico returned with a bottle of water, her pills and a plastic bag filled with junk food, which he plopped in her lap.

      “My sisters always wanted M&M’s when they were hurt. Marie and Cathy said that pain burns calories, and self-pity can be treated with Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies. Beth, on the other hand, believes in chicken soup. It’s all in the bag, so take your pick.”

      “Really?” She peered inside. Sure enough, there were enough treats inside to compete with an especially good Halloween haul. And the soup was the boxed kind.

      She loved the boxed kind with the little flat noodles.

      “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome.” He started the car and put it in Reverse. “You haven’t met my sisters? There are three of them, all older than me. They’ve been to the restaurant several times.”

      “I don’t think I have.” She would have remembered. His parents had been to dinner, though. She’d seen them in the lobby but hadn’t met them yet. “You grew up here. Why did you come back?”

      “My family owns Vitelli’s.”

      “I know.” Vitelli’s was a large brick restaurant in the center of town. Famous for its pasta dishes and pizza, it was hugely popular with locals and tourists alike.

      “I have a very large family,” he said.

      “You’re lucky.” She thought about Aunt Ellen, so far away in Arizona this holiday. She’d texted photos of the new baby, a little girl with yellow fuzz on the top of her perfect little head.

      “Yes,” Nico agreed. “I am.”

      She fumbled in her purse for her cell phone and called Patsy. If she couldn’t haul herself up the outside steps to her condo, then a cozy room at the lodge was the next best thing.

      “Sorry, honey,” her friend told her after Grace gave her the medical report. “Every single room is booked. You know how it is over the holidays.”

      “That’s okay. Nico will help me get up the stairs at home.”

      “No,” her driver said. “Nico won’t.”

      “You’re not going home,” Patsy said, using her best motherly voice. “I went to your place and packed up some things for you and I gave them to Nico. He lives right down the street from the lodge, so it’s convenient.”

      “It’s not convenient,” she protested.

      “It is,” Nico said. “I have a very large, very empty house.”

      “It is,” Patsy agreed. “Everything you need for overnight is in a suitcase or on hangers. By the way, you have an impressively organized closet. I’ve never known anyone who organized her outfits for the week and hung them on hangers labeled Monday, Tuesday, et cetera. It was quite amazing. Did you see that on Pinterest or invent it yourself?”

      “Pinterest,” Grace admitted. “Every Sunday I organize my clothes. It saves time in the morning.”

      “Someday you will have children and all of this will be a thing of the past.”

      “What about putting a rollaway in my office? There would be room СКАЧАТЬ