Page 48 of The Guest Cottage
He took the seat across from her. “I have the little lake house. It’s minuscule, but Pixie is welcome to use it until we—and it is we, Marlow—can figure out how to help her.”
Blown away, she covered her mouth with a hand. “Where did you come from? Men like you don’t exist.”
“’Course they do. Don’t be jaded because of one asshole.”
She gave a choked laugh and marveled that she could find any humor right now. It was a gift, given to her by Cort.
Just then, Pixie came hesitantly into the kitchen.
Cort stood and pulled out a chair for her, too. “Take a seat and we’ll join you for an early lunch.”
Very early, Marlow thought, since she’d just been watching the sunrise before Pixie’s arrival. “He’s handy in the kitchen,” she said lightly. “I’ve already been fed by him once, though it wasn’t canned soup.”
“It smells great.” Pixie’s gaze bounced back and forth between them as Cort set bowls before all three chairs. He refilled Pixie’s glass with juice and got a bottle of water for Marlow at her request.
They ate quietly for a few minutes. It seemed a priority for Pixie to consume some food. Anyone could see that she was running on her last reserves. Food first, then some rest. Cort’s suggestion of his lake house was an excellent solution.
Marlow only had one bathroom here, and she didn’t like the idea of a stranger traipsing around her house, especially through her bedroom, when she wasn’t home.
Also, Marlow valued her privacy. This washertime, and while she couldn’t turn a blind eye to Pixie’s predicament, she also wanted—even needed—to protect her newfound peace and happiness.
When Pixie had finished her soup, three crackers, and most of the juice, Marlow asked, “Have you seen a doctor?”
She shook her head. “Not recently, not since I was released from the hospital after having the baby.”
Marlow had the same feeling she sometimes got during high-pressure business meetings, when she sensed there was more to the story than what was being presented. She put on her no-nonsense face, the one that indicated she’d see through any fabrications. “And before that?”
Pixie quailed. “Um . . . right now, I hope I only have a cold, but you’re right that I’m a little feverish.”
“You could barely stand upright.”
“That’s because I’m so tired.” She stared down at the table for several long moments, then looked up with resolve.
Hoping to encourage her, Marlow said, “May as well share everything, so we know what we’re dealing with.”
Pixie’s mouth pinched before she gave up. “I had been working as a waitress after I left the warehouse job, but I had difficulties with my pregnancy, so I was let go.”
Good. Plain speaking. Marlow appreciated it because knowing and understanding the issues would make them easier to sort out. “What type of difficulty?”
Shyly, Pixie glanced at Cort.
“Go on,” Marlow said. “He’s a Marine. He won’t faint.” What being a Marine had to do with the issue at hand, Marlow couldn’t say, but it sounded plausible.
Pixie must have been convinced, because even though her face got redder, she said, “I was diagnosed with pregnancy-induced hypertension.”
Cort said, “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It was . . . difficult.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Along with high blood pressure, I had a lot of swelling in my feet and hands.” Her mouth twisted to the side. “Alotof swelling. So much that I couldn’t fit in most of my shoes. My soles and my palms itched a lot, and then there was the nausea and endless vomiting.” Her shoulders slumped a little more, and her voice lowered. “I had terrible headaches that would leave me dizzy.”
Marlow shared a glance with Cort. This young woman had faced all thatalone? Apparently. “What did your doctor suggest?”
“He wanted me on bed rest, but that was impossible since I had to take care of myself.”
“Your parents—”
Pixie shook her head. “My aunt raised me, but she’s since passed on.”
Oh, poor girl. “So you missed a lot of work and the restaurant let you go?”
