Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I smile, but the fact is, she doesn’t know that.
“If anyone can make it so, it’s you. And if you start to forget, we’ll all just remind you. Often.”
“I’m counting on it,” she replies, and I see the fear in her blue eyes for just a brief moment.
“Do you remember,” I begin, wanting to lighten the mood and give her a fun memory to think about, “when I was a kid, before the girls came along, and you and Dad took me to Montana to go skiing?”
“You were not a natural on the slopes,” she says with a chuckle.
“I hated it.”
“And that surprised us because you were always so athletic.”
I laugh at the memory of falling on that hill over and over again. “It was so damn cold. And hard. I hated doing the snowplow over and over again.”
“Well, you have to know how to stop, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say, making her laugh. “I never got on another pair of skis in my life.”
“You enjoyed the hot chocolate by the fire afterward,” she reminds me. “You charmed the waitress into giving you extra marshmallows. You were a little heartbreaker, even at nine years old.”
“I deserved those marshmallows after the torture I endured on that godforsaken mountain.”
Mom’s laughing harder now, tears coming to her eyes.
“On the plane home, you told anyone who would listen that skiing should be part of the punishment in prisons.”
“I still believe that,” I agree, remembering that and feeling relieved that Mom does, too.
“I hope Stella doesn’t love to ski,” Mom says, changing the subject.
“I don’t know if she does,” I admit.
“You might want to find out. It could be a deal-breaker for you.”
I can’t imagine anything Stella has to say being a deal-breaker for me.
“When do I get to meet her?” she asks.
“Well, I didn’t plan to invite her up here with as bad as yesterday was.”
“You had better bring her up here before you both go back to Seattle. I don’t know how long I have to be in the hospital, and I will not miss out on meeting her. Understand me?”
“I’m an adult, you know.”
“You’re still my kid, and you’ll follow orders, young man.” She narrows her eyes at me, but I can see the humor in them, as well.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Has your father met her?”
“No, he was already at work when she arrived this morning.”
“And where is she staying?”
“She has a room at the resort, but I think I’ll talk her into staying at the house, if that’s okay with you.”
“There’s plenty of room for her,” she assures me. “The guest room next to your bedroom has fresh linens on the bed, and the bathroom is clean. Put her in there. No sneaking in with her to do God knows what.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Mom snorts just as my sisters walk back into the room, carrying their coffees and Mom’s fruit cup.
“You should go,” Mom says to me as she accepts a fork and the open container from Maya. “Go hang out with your girl.”
“I came to town to spend time with you.”
“I’m boring,” Mom says. “I’m just sitting here. I have the girls to keep me company, and your father will pop in now and again. Go see your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Maya snorts. Sidney rolls her eyes. And Mom just grins.
“Okay, go see your friend then,” Mom suggests.
“Trust me, friends don’t look at each other the way they did this morning,” Maya says.
“And how was that?” I ask her.
“Like she’s an ice cream cone.”
“Double chocolate?” I ask her.
“Oh, yeah. With chocolate sprinkles,” she confirms.
“Sounds about right.” I kiss Mom’s cheek. “You’re sure?”
“Go,” she says before popping a red grape into her mouth. “Have fun. And bring her to see me very soon.”
“Okay. I’m only a phone call away if you need anything.”
“He hovers,” Sidney observes, leaning closer to Maya. “Like a mother hen.”
“He always has,” Maya reminds our sister.
“I’m right here,” I remind them. “Don’t start talking about me until after I leave.”
They just smile innocently as I wrinkle my nose at them and walk out of Mom’s room. I’m only about twenty feet away from the door when I see Dad walking toward me.
“How is she?” he asks, pausing in front of me. He’s wearing his white coat, and a stethoscope hangs around his neck.
“She’s great,” I reply, glancing back at her door. “She’s in good spirits and doesn’t seem to be in much pain.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m glad they’re staying on top of the pain.”
“Dad, she told me. About the diagnosis.”
He sighs, and his eyes look sad as he slowly shakes his head.
“We were going to tell all three of you together.”
“The girls went down for coffee, and Mom and I were talking. When did you find out?”
Dad firms his chin and looks me squarely in the eyes. “Three weeks ago.”