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"I'm killer at Christmas. Mom and I have a deal that we only spend twenty dollars, but if you get freebies, like buy-one-get-one-free, then the free one doesn't count against the twenty bucks. Something from a thrift store like Goodwill is okay too. We don't care if it's used."
His mouth was still tight, as if he couldn't let go of the failure with the doctor, but she could tell that he was trying to shake it off. "Sounds like a lot of fun."
"It can take an hour to open all the little gifts we buy each other."
"What about birthdays?"
"Same thing. Twenty dollars." With his hand in hers, she led him down the hall.
"When's your birthday?"
She sidestepped a man in a wheelchair, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder. "Hi, Kurt." Then she answered Sebastian's question. "December. I'm a Sagittarius. What about you?"
"April. Aries."
She couldn't remember whether Sagittarius and Aries were complete opposites or a perfect match. She'd never been into astrology. And no matter what the stars said, nothing was going to ruin the beautiful connection she and Sebastian were building.
"And your mom?"
"January." She could almost see him planning ahead. But December and January were long past her deadline for the sculpture, long past the point when she would be moving out of his guesthouse and back into her own home.
But she didn't want to think about the end.
Not when every new day gave her hope that there wouldn't be one.
*
Frustration simmered through Sebastian's veins as they entered the lounge. Francine, wearing a pretty flowered dress, was seated in her usual spot on the sofa.
He felt helpless, just like every time he'
d walked into his parents' home only to find them totally blitzed. Again. For five long years after he'd moved into Susan and Bob's crowded but caring household, he kept returning in an effort to get help for his parents. And it had torn him up every single time, especially when nothing he tried to do to help them worked.
Damn it, Dr. Hillman should have been able to fix Francine's hands, do surgery, prescribe a treatment--at least give her some damn pain medication that worked without getting her hooked or having terrible side effects.
"Charlie, Sebastian." Francine held out her gnarled fingers, her smile so big and sweet, despite the lines of age and pain on her face.
"Sebastian brought you a present, but even though I've been pestering him, he won't tell me what it is." Charlie slid into the chair next to her mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"You're such a little girl when it comes to presents." Francine's wrinkled face glowed with fondness. "I am too." She grinned up at Sebastian. "What did you bring?"
Sitting next to her, he also kissed the soft, paper-thin skin of her cheek. "You're as bad as your daughter," he said, keeping his tone light. He wouldn't take his frustrations out on either of them. Instead, he'd do more research. He'd find another doctor.
He'd do something.
For now, he simply pulled a penknife from his pocket and slit the tape along the top, then pulled out a second box.
As soon as Francine saw the picture on the outside, she put her hands over her mouth. "Oh my."
"What is it?" Charlie moved the bigger box out of the way so that she could see the picture too.
"A paraffin bath," her mother said, tears glistening in her eyes. "This is the sweetest gift a man has ever brought me. Thank you. You're such a darling man."
Her glow did his heart good after Hillman's disappointment. "I did some research, and the heat of the paraffin wax sounds like it might help ease some of the pain. It comes with gloves you put on after you dunk. Then you start to feel the heat transfer from the wax into your hands. There's a temperature control, and paraffin has a lower melting point than candle wax, so it doesn't burn your skin."
Francine put a hand on his arm, her touch as delicate as a hummingbird's. "Sebastian, you are sweet as the dickens."
Charlie didn't say anything at all, but the look in her eyes said she thought he'd just moved mountains for her mother. He wished he could do more than this one small thing. What the hell use was his money if he couldn't make Francine feel better?
