Saving Home. Marie Ferrarella

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СКАЧАТЬ at Alex. “You didn’t drag out poor Dad and tell him to do it, did you?”

      “Of course not,” Alex said, taking offense. “Dorothy volunteered.” The inn’s head housekeeper had been with them for years. “Speaking of Dad,” Alex went on, “does anyone else think he’s looking rather pale lately?”

      “Yes, but you know Dad. He always pushes himself too hard around this time of year,” Cris reminded them.

      “I think keeping busy helps him cope with not having Mom around at Christmas,” Stevi’s face lit up as memories began to crowd her head. “Remember how special she always made the holidays? Even the little things. When she did them, they became almost magical,” she recalled fondly.

      “I hope you’re right about Dad,” Alex murmured.

      She worried about him a great deal. After their mother had died, there was a period of time when he’d fallen ill and they were all afraid that they would lose him, as well. He’d rallied, but the image of a frail man was never far from any of their minds.

      “Still,” Alex continued, “I think we should all gang up on him and make Dad get a physical—just in case.”

      “You know him,” Andy pointed out. “He’ll just tell us not to worry, that everything’s fine and that’ll be the end of it.”

      “That used to be the end of it,” Alex said, then added with a touch of smugness, “but we’ve got muscle now.”

      “What are you talking about?” Stevi asked, staring at Alex as if she had just gone off the deep end.

      Alex gave her a look that all but said keep up.

      “We could actually physically carry Dad to the doctor’s office.” Alex could tell she’d lost her sisters. “Don’t you see? We’ve got Wyatt, Shane and Mike. That’s three against one. They could certainly get Dad over to Dr. Donnelly’s office for a thorough check up.”

      “You’re talking about kidnapping the man,” Cris said, shaking her head. “That’s a last resort,” she said, “using the guys to get Dad to the doctor’s office. You have to leave the man some dignity.”

      “Dignity’s the last thing a person thinks about if they land in a hospital bed,” Alex insisted. “And I’m trying to prevent that.”

      Stevi shook her head. “God, I hope the baby doesn’t get your optimism.”

      Alex drew herself up a little taller. “I’m being realistic.”

      “What you’re being,” Stevi countered, “is a dark cloud.”

      Andy shook her head at that and laughed. “So what else is new?”

      Instead of a defensive remark, or a put down from Alex the way she expected, Andy saw her oldest sister grow perfectly still, almost like a deer caught in the headlights.

      “Alex?” Andy leaned in closer as she studied her sister’s tense face and rigid body. Alex was never this still for this long. “Talk to me. Is something wrong?”

      “Is it the baby?” Stevi asked with a note of panic.

      Jorge had abandoned the giant salad he was preparing to hurry over to the worktable. A father himself three times over, he watched Alex solicitously, ready to be of assistance.

      “Say something,” Cris pleaded, taking her hand.

      Alex squeezed back—hard—but only made a strange, unidentifiable noise. After another several seconds had passed, she let out a long, shaky breath. Her free hand was still possessively covering her belly.

      She waited, but the pain didn’t return. Her relief was unimaginable.

      “False alarm,” she told her sisters and Jorge, offering them a rather weak, tired smile to accompany the words. And then she added in a smaller, equally hopeful voice, “I think.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      THERE WAS A thin line of perspiration running along Alex’s hairline. “Maybe you should see your doctor,” Andy suggested, as they all remained huddled around the worktable in the kitchen, partially finished potpies forgotten in the scare of Alex’s possible labor pains.

      Back to her old self, Alex shook her head. “I’m not due until the end of the month, and right now I don’t have the time,” she said, brushing the incident off.

      “Make the time,” Cris told her pointedly.

      “What I’m going to make is tracks before you all gang up on me,” Alex replied. Using the worktable for support, she began to push herself up to her feet.

      “You’re as bad as Dad,” Cris continued. “How can you even think of forcing him to go to the doctor when you won’t consider going yourself?”

      Stevi placed her hand gently but firmly on Alex’s shoulder. “Sit,” she ordered. “Finish eating.”

      “I have to get back to the reception desk,” Alex argued.

      “No, you don’t,” Andy said. She had finished both her impromptu lunch and feeling sorry for herself. It was time to make herself useful. “I’ll go.” She stood. “Take as long as you like. Great potpie, Cris—as always.”

      Cris merely smiled as she reached for the empty pie plate.

      Jorge managed to insert himself between the pie plate and the woman he considered his boss. He deposited it in the sink and proceeded to wash it.

      “You are working too hard, Miss Cris,” he told her simply.

      Cris knew better than to argue with Jorge. Given the opportunity, he could go on and on for hours until he won his point. It was far easier just to go along with him.

      “Thank you, Jorge.”

      It was the last thing Andy heard as she left the kitchen.

      * * *

      SHE HURRIED THROUGH the dining area, noting that several of the inn’s guests had trickled into the room. Jasmine, the college student who was their part-time waitress, was busy taking their orders.

      It looked as if Cris was going to be busy for a little while, Andy mused. It was a good thing her sister had Jorge as her assistant. He was quick and competent and, most important, he wouldn’t allow Cris to work too hard no matter what she said.

      The only person currently in the reception area when Andy got there was Dorothy.

      Like most of the small staff at the inn, Dorothy had a story. The woman had checked into the inn for an overnight stay—the last one, she had believed, that she would spend on this earth. It had been luck that brought Richard Roman to her door to check on her before he turned in for the night.

      And instinct that had kept him there, talking with the lonely, distraught woman until well past dawn.

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