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Her mom shrugged. “People talk.”
This made no sense, but Charity knew better than to push. Her mom would not give up her sources. It wouldn’t surprise her if someone at the doctor’s office did tell her, though. Someone probably would jeopardize a job out of concern for a fellow resident in this town.
The sound of paws on hardwood alerted Charity to the fact that Gracie had finished her meal. She rushed right over to Charity’s mom, jumping up on her.
“Whoa there!” Her mom lifted the slow cooker.
Charity had been working on the jumping thing with Gracie, but there’d been so much going on lately, training had taken a backseat. Now it looked like she’d have plenty of time to spend with her dog.
“Let me grab that.” Charity reached out and her mom handed over the slow cooker. Then she looked down at Gracie. “Down.”
“Sit,” her mom said in a way too polite voice.
Gracie, of course, did none of that. But she did leave their visitor alone and rush to grab a toy to swing around.
“What is this exactly?” Charity asked, looking down into the pot. “Some sort of soup?”
“It’s a new recipe from Mrs. Apple,” her mom said. “Christmas soup.”
“Christmas soup.” Charity had never heard of such a thing.
“Just plug it in. It should still be at least a little warm. So when are you going to decorate for Christmas?”
Just the words had Charity suppressing a groan. She’d spent all day, every day this week decorating other people’s spaces. Along with her assistant, she’d unboxed trees and ornaments and gone on numerous store runs to get hooks and garland when they ran out. Maybe she could pay someone to decorate her own cabin. She certainly didn’t have the energy for it.
“I know.” Her mom clapped her hands and looked at her. “I’ll come over this weekend and we’ll do it.”
She had a big smile on her face. That smile faded as Charity walked around the kitchen counter that separated the kitchen from the living room area.
“You’re limping,” her mom said. “Are you sure it’s not broken?”
“I couldn’t walk on it if it was broken.” Charity looked down at her ankle. “It’s a sprain. I’m supposed to stay off it as much as possible.”
But when Charity looked at it, all she could think about was Nic bandaging her wound last night. He’d taken such good care of her, even carrying her into her house. If she lived to be a hundred, that image would remain buried in her mind.
Her mom gestured toward the sofa. “Sit, sit, sit.”
Yes, she definitely needed to sit. She walked toward the sofa, doing her best not to limp and holding in a wince at the pain that came from putting pressure on her left foot. She shouldn’t have stood on it so much that day.
“Let me get you some ice.” Her mom rushed over to the kitchen as Charity settled onto the sofa. She patted the cushion next to her and Gracie jumped up, settling into the spot next to her as she always did. Charity reached over with her left hand and pulled the lever to pop the recliner out, bracing it with her good foot to keep it from slamming forward.
“It’d be so nice if your sisters were here,” her mom said. “We could decorate together like we did when you were kids.”
“They’re both coming in for Christmas, right?” Charity asked.
She felt bad that she didn’t know this. She got most of her updates about her sisters from her mom. All three of them were so busy now, it was tough to slow down long enough to make a phone call or to send a text.
But that needed to change. Charity wanted to believe if they lived locally, it would be different, but deep down, she knew it wouldn’t. That was one of the reasons living on the same property and raising their kids together had been such a good idea.
“Ana will be here the week of Christmas,” her mom said. “Maybe sooner, depending on where her production schedule takes her. I think they’re trying to wrap up the season. Faith may not be able to come home this year. The store closes at six on Christmas Eve and opens back up at nine a.m. on Boxing Day.”
“Which is the day after Christmas,” Charity said.
She knew that much from all theJeopardythey’d watched as kids. It had been a clue more than once.
“Maybe we could just pack everything up and fly over there.” Her mom returned from the kitchen, a sealed storage bag full of ice in her left hand. “It wouldn’t be a bad place to spend Christmas.”
Charity shook her head. “I couldn’t go. I have a week’s worth of New Year’s Eve jobs lined up.”
