Page 19 of Stay this Christmas
My eyes went to Grandpa without thinking, afraid he’d gone and spilled the beans about Harper. The gentle shake of his head confirming he hadn’t set me at ease, even if Dad’s offer managed the opposite.
Accept a desk job at my dad’s firm? Couldn’t think of a worse combination. I’d go stir-crazy working in an office every day, typing up notes and looking at databases. Wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what databases were, and that right there said it all.
“I don’t think I’m your guy.”
His expression fell like I’d snuffed out his last dying hope. Didn’t make a lot of sense, since I couldn’t imagine he actually wanted to work with me, either. That disappointment crystallized, his brief warm gaze turned hard. Nowthislook I understood. I’d seen it my whole life.
Behind him, Harper walked out of the PT room, headed our way. That was my cue to exit this conversation of fake interest and bad ideas.
“It’s been good running into you, but I’ve got to go. Enjoy your waffles.” Catching Harper’s eye, I moved to step around Dad, but he grabbed my arm.
“You can’t keep running from responsibilities forever, son.”
My eagerness to get to Harper blasted apart. He wanted to lecture me about responsibility? The man who abandoned his wife and children to build a new life in a new house one mile over? This guy?
Harper flashed me an almost-smile before escaping through Fiesta Village’s front doors. Terrific. Dad had busted out his condescension over my jobandruined my plans to apologize. Might as well slash my tires next and be done with it.
Grandpa put a hand on Dad’s arm, easing him away. “That’s too harsh, Christopher. Sam’s had plenty of responsibilities, including keeping people safe on mountainsides. Might not be the same as sorting their financial futures, but just as important. Maybe even more.”
Dad didn’t seem impressed by Grandpa’s defense, but I sure appreciated it. Probably more than I deserved, but it warmed me up all the same.
“Fine, I’ll concede that being a mountain guide involved responsibilities.” Even saying that much made him squirm. “Then I’ll amend my statement to say it’s time he quit running, period. This job would be a good step in that direction.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” I clapped them both on the shoulder. “Good seeing you, but I’ve got to go.”
Turning, I beelined for the door.
Grandpa called out, “What about the activities room?”
“I just remembered it’s fine. All good.”
Rushing out into the cold, I scanned the lot for any sign of Harper or her little car, but she’d already gone. At least I could be glad she’d finished her work for the day. Probably. Couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t turn up again later for someone’s post-church PT session.
My shoulders sagging, I headed for my station wagon. Dad was right about one thing—it was time for me to stop running. I might not be looking for a desk job, but I was ready to settle down here for the long-haul, hopefully, eventually, with one particular redhead.
If only she would stop running from me.
SEVEN
harper
Monday morning,I tried to keep my expression light and neutral, my smile sincere, even as everything inside me wilted like a time-lapse of a flower decaying.
“You want to try on-call physical therapy?” I said to Olivia Cruz, Fiesta Village’s Executive Director.
Usually, that meant a physical therapist who covered shifts at multiple sites, accepting appointments as they came up. Pretty sure that wasn’t what she had in mind. Olivia had a surplus of enthusiasm for taking care of our residents’ needs, but not a whole lot of first-hand knowledge of what bringing a medical practice into the center involved. She’d apparently started out in marketing here, and worked her way up to Director. When she first brought me on, I’d been given freedom to carve out how my practice would work, but in the last year or so, that freedom had been swallowed up by her urge to offer new and unusual services to the Village residents.
No shocker her switch in attitude coincided with a new retirement community opening up just south of town. A bigger facility boasting state-of-the-art technology and on-site medical care of every stripe anyone over fifty-five would want, the competition had directly influenced most of her decisions over the last year.
Olivia smiled as though my clarification meant I was on board with her plan. “It’d be a great perk, don’t you think? Being able to say our residents have access to a skilled physical therapist twenty-four-seven?”
I couldn’t help the weird way my lip curled up. Hopefully, she read it as an awkward smile and not the horror it truly was. “Twenty-four-seven?”
Did she think one of the residents would feel the urge to do calf raises and bicep curls at three a.m.?
“You wouldn’t be working the whole time, obviously. But what a marketing tool. We could have a special phone line just for you, and they could call you with any questions or concerns.”
Giving my patients unlimited access to me for questions or concerns wasn’t really the draw Olivia seemed to think. “I’m already available to them all week.”
