“Coming right up.” Jackson went to put in the order, and Imogen sat there with Vanessa for a few minutes longer, chatting about the stores and their holiday plans as she waited.
As she headed back to the store, she couldn’t completely banish the nagging doubts. She had no idea how she was going to balance everything, even with her friends’ encouragement. But it had to be possible. Ithadto, because this wasn’t an opportunity she was willing to pass up.
The future had never looked sweeter, and she was determined to make it hers.
CHAPTER FIVE
When Mabel woke up Saturday morning, she saw a text from George letting her know that he’d called in help for the tree farm that day, since he wasn’t going to be able to make it out of bed. That had alarmed her enough to wake her up fully, because she’d never known George to miss a day of work in his life.
She’d headed downstairs, feeding Rascal to get the fluffy cat out from underfoot before going to the kitchen to make a breakfast to-go box to bring to George. Within an hour, she’d had fluffy biscuits, fresh local blueberry maple sausage links, a couple of poached eggs, and a thermos full of orange juice ready to take to his house. She’d filled two more thermoses with homemade chicken soup for him to have later, as well, and she bundled up before carrying it all out to her silver sedan to head over to his house.
She’d thought about staying with him overnight the night before, to be there in case he needed anything, but George had insisted she go home to her own bed. He’d been worried about getting her sick, and about whether or not she’d be comfortable and get enough sleep, with him coughing and snoring all night. She’d been touched that he’d been so worried about her. As grumpy as he was, he’d always been thoughtful, and that wasone of the things that had made her fall for him in the first place. It had also meant a long night of worrying about how he was managing on his own, though. She didn’t think she’d slept much better at her own house, last night.
Mabel loaded everything into her car and made the familiar drive through Fir Tree Grove’s quiet streets to George’s house on the edge of town. His neighborhood was older, with big trees along the streets and houses that were spaced out further, with more acreage around them. Most of the houses were old colonials, with big porches and historical details that had been carefully preserved. It was one of the neighborhoods that was on the historical register, and Mabel loved it.
The house was dark when she pulled into the driveway, which she took as a good sign—hopefully it meant George was still sleeping and getting the rest his body clearly needed. She let herself in with her key, which still gave her a small thrill. It was another one of those things that she’d thought she was past in her lifetime, having a key to a significant other’s house. Another relationship milestone that she hadn’t thought she’d ever hit again.
The interior of the house was warm and cozy, with a hint of wood-burning fireplace scent hanging in the air. There were Christmas decorations up, and Mabel walked over to plug in the Christmas tree lights, thinking it would be a nice surprise if George did get up to walk around at some point. The house smelled of pine too, and she breathed it in, smiling.
She moved quietly through the house, not wanting to wake him if he was still sleeping. She was familiar with George’s kitchen, so she popped the thermoses of soup into the refrigerator, which was empty enough to make Mabel roll her eyes affectionately, and then started to warm up his breakfast. While she was waiting on that, she went to find a tray that she could use to take the food to him in bed. She knew he’d saysomething about her fussing over him, but she enjoyed it. It was nicetohave someone to fuss over again.
For years, she’d been contented with only taking care of herself, but she loved having a partner to dote on and spoil again. It fulfilled a part of her that she’d forgotten about, and brought her so much joy that she hadn’t even known she was missing.
She arranged the breakfast on a tray, putting the orange juice into one of his favorite mugs, and was just about to take it to him when she heard movement from upstairs: the soft creak of floorboards and what sounded like a coughing fit that made her chest tighten with sympathy. Poor George. She hated having the flu, personally, and she wanted him to get well quickly.
As she got to the foot of the stairs, she saw him appear there, wrapped up in burgundy robe, his face paler than usual and flushed at his cheeks and throat, his graying hair and beard disheveled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Mabel could see he was holding onto the banister, and she clucked her tongue, heading up the stairs with the tray.
“You need to go back to bed,” she said firmly. “You’re clearly still very sick.”
“Mabel.” George’s voice was rough and hoarse. “You didn’t need to come so early. I told you I’d be fine.”
“George Lowery.” Mabel’s mouth set in a thin line. “You can barely stand up straight, and you’re worried about me getting up early? I’ve been awake since five anyway, fretting about you.”
Despite his obvious discomfort, George managed a weak smile. “Fretting about me? That’s a waste of perfectly good sleep.”
“It certainly is not,” Mabel said firmly, heading past him toward the bedroom. “Now come on, I’ve made you breakfast. You need to get some food in you if you’re going to beat this thing.”
George made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat but followed her. The lack of argument only solidified Mabel’s realization that this flu was worse than she’d thought. She waited for him to settle back into bed, and then set the tray over his lap, pointing at the mug of hot tea at one corner of it.
“That will help with congestion, and the orange juice is good Vitamin C. I know it’s hard to eat when you’re sick, but you need your strength. Eat up.”
She bustled around the room as he obeyed with a slight smile on his face, cleaning up tissues and straightening anything she could get her hands on. When she turned back around, she saw that George had drank some of the tea, and he looked like there was a little more color in his cheeks.
“This is delicious,” he said, gesturing at the plate of eggs and biscuits and sausages. “You’re spoiling me.”
“Good,” she replied without hesitation. “You deserve to be spoiled. And besides, taking care of you gives me something useful to do with all this nervous energy I have when you’re not feeling well.”
George gave her another smile. “I’m a lucky man.”
Mabel felt that familiar flutter in her chest, the same sensation she always got whenever George said something particularly sweet. It was remarkable how this man could make her feel like a lovestruck teenager again, even when he was sick and miserable. She never would have guessed he had a romantic side, but he’d proved her wrong many times over the last year.
“And I’m lucky too,” she said firmly. “Now, what else can I do? Do you have cough medicine? Lozenges?”
“I’m out of both,” George admitted. “And I have a prescription that needs to be picked up.”
Another flutter of worry went through Mabel’s chest at that. George was not the type to willingly let her go run errands for him. But she smiled, nodding firmly. “All right, then I’ll go grabthose things, and some more orange juice. You eat every bite of that, and I’ll clean up when I get back.”
“Don’t you need to be at the store?” George frowned, and Mabel waved a hand.
