Pops chuckled. “What can I say? The nurses love me here.”
There was a slight hint of a wince on his face that meant he wasn’t so impervious to pain as he liked to pretend. He wore a hospital gown and there were wires running to his chest and anIVin his other arm.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Charles asked.
“Just a broken wrist,” Pops said. “No biggie.”
“You got lucky,” Delilah chided at his side. “It could have been much worse. Imagine if you’d hit your head or broken a rib.”
“Eh.” He waved away her concern, showing a brave face to his girls. “I’m tough.”
“You know it’s okay not to prove it, though,” I told him with a relieved grin. “You gave us all quite the scare.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I glanced down to read the screen.
“Hey, that reminds me,” Pops said. “How did the Thanksgiving Throwdown turn out? Worst part of all this was missing your entry. I hope you all took lots of pictures.”
“Who is it?” Charles asked, peering over at me.
“It’s Mia,” I told them. “She just got the results.”
“Well?” Pops urged me. “Don’t leave us hanging.”
A huge smile overtook my face. “We won!”
Chapter 25
With all the chaos of the Thanksgiving Throwdown and Pops’s accident, the next couple of days passed in a blur. Before I knew it, the Thanksgiving event at the Hawthorne chalet was right around the corner. They’d be entertaining friends, family, and clients flying in from all around the country, so I spent the afternoon gathering the final provisions. When I called Megan to see about hiring extra help, she was excited to lend a hand, and even agreed to come up for that visit with Hannah, to make sure everything went off without a hitch. If this event was a success, it would cement her relationship with the Hawthornes and mean future referrals for new business.
Now, I lumbered back to the Land Rover with my cart full of bags. I had finally picked up my own from Grover’s Hardware, one of those all-terrain wagons the nannies used to tow around the fancy dogs and exhausted children of the rich families on the mountain.
As I approached theSUVparked along the curb, I glanced over at The Snowdrift, where Charles was teetering on top of a ladder while putting up Christmas lights above the porch. After I got everything in the trunk, I jogged across the street, just as Pops stepped out into the front yard to tinker with the lights blanketed over the shrubs.
“Careful up there,” I called as I approached. “Don’t want you ending up with a cast to match Pops.”
“Don’t worry.” He glanced down at me, holding a hammer in one hand and a clutch of nails in the other. “I’ve done this once or twice.”
“That I find hard to believe.”
“Oh, Elle!” Pops stepped back from the shrub lights, satisfied. He was sporting a red sweater to match his candy-cane cast. “Good to see you again.”
“Hi, Pops. I see you’ve enlisted some extra help.”
“Good sport, isn’t he?” he said, nodding. “Lots to do. Don’t want to get behind.”
“Want to come hold this ladder?” Charles called sheepishly.
I jogged up the steps and put both hands on the wobbly metal ladder.
“Dang these lights. Every year I say I’m not going to get them tangled,” Pops muttered to himself while he fished in a carboard box for the remaining decorations. “Then every year, here I am.”
“Why don’t you let someone else do that?” I told him. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“No way. I’ve been in bed for two days already. I’m going stir crazy.”
As Pops fought with the mess, determined to make himself useful, I looked up at Charles.
“Surprised to find you doing manual labor,” I said.
