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“We were having lunch at the diner,” Summer began. “Grandma was pretty stressed out about the whole situation with Brock—”
“Hey, wait just a minute,” he interrupted, his temper flaring. “If she was stressed out, it was because of all that stuffyousaid yesterday about fixing up my place!”
Summer glared at him before turning back to her parents.
Spring leaned against one of the waiting room’s walls, silent as usual, his expression watchful.
“Anyway, as I was saying, Grandma Abigail was really worried about the diner,” Summer continued. “She wanted me to fix the problems there before I go back to San Francisco, and I told her it was a bigger job than I felt comfortable—”
“—not to mention I don’t need you breathing down my neck, telling me how to run my business—” Brock interrupted again.
Summer tried to ignore him. “—anyway, I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea—”
“Got that right,” Brock muttered. That earned him a faint smile from Spring.
“—and that’s when she started looking really ill and fainted,” Summer finished.
“And you’re blaming me for that?” Brock demanded. “I wasn’t even there!”
Despite his denial, he felt a twinge of guilt.Hadhe contributed to Mrs. S’s heart attack?
“Well, you’re the reason she was so worked up in the first place!” Summer shot back. “Mom, you would not believe how badly—”
“Now wait just a God-da—” Brock remembered that Bob and Priscilla were faithful churchgoers, and hastily edited himself. “I mean, gosh darn minute! If anyone was stressing out Mrs. S, it wasyouand all of your fu—uh,stupidideas for fancying upmyplace!” He glared at her. “Everything was just fine untilyoushowed up!”
Summer produced an unladylike snort. “You’re delusional. You can’t even—”
“Stop it!” Priscilla ordered. Summer drew breath to protest, and her mother added in a quelling tone,“Bothof you. You’re behaving like children.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Brock muttered.
His face heated with embarrassment. She was right. This wasn’t the time or place for Summer and him to argue.
“Sorry, Mom,” Summer said, a moment later.
“My mother’s been having heart issues for a while now. She didn’t want anyone to know,” Bob said softly. “Summer, that’s why your grandma was so happy to hear that you were staying at the ranch for a while. Now that my dad’s gone, she can’t really manage all the family’s businesses by herself. I’d appreciate it if you put some thought into how you can help her.”
Summer turned red. Her shoulders slumped and her gaze dropped to her strappy sandals. “Sure,” she muttered.
Brock felt his own face heat. Maybe he wasn’t one hundred percent at fault here, but he couldn’t deny that he’d contributed to the situation.
“Priscilla and Robert Snowberry?” someone asked from the waiting room doorway. Brock saw a young Indian woman in a white coat standing there. “Hi, I’m Dr. Gupta, Mrs. Abigail Snowberry’s attending physician.”
“Yes, we’re the Snowberry family,” Bob said, with a gesture that included everyone in the waiting room, including Brock. “How’s my mother doing?”
“I’m thrilled to report that her condition is now stable,” Dr. Gupta replied, smiling. “We are preparing her for a percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty, commonly referred to as cardiac catheterization procedure to place a heart stent.”
She continued with a brief explanation of the procedure, which she described as much less invasive as bypass surgery, and with a much faster recovery time.
When she had finished updating everyone on Mrs. S’s condition and prospects for a full recovery, Brock felt the crushing burden of dread lift from his shoulders.
Mrs. S is gonna be okay, thank God!
“I should get going,” he said after Dr. Gupta left the waiting room. “Please let me know how Mrs. S is doing.”
To his surprise and pleasure, Priscilla came over and gave him another hug. “Thank you so much for bringing Summer. Give me your number and I’ll text you as soon as Abigail is out of surgery.”
∞∞∞
