Page 59 of Mr. Fixer Upper
“Don’t be a brat. I’m trying to tell you something important.”
“Then stop putting it in a thesis and cut to the chase. I swear medical school has ruined your ability to communicate.”
“Sloane Kettering is starting a pediatric cancer trial, and I think Malia could be an ideal candidate.”
“What?” Paige hadn’t meant to yell the word, but she wasn’t sure she’d heard her sister right.
“Look, I follow Cat King’s blog—”
“Why?” Paige interrupted.
“Because you’re my sister, and I like knowing what you’re up to,” Lisa huffed. “Anyway, I saw the outtakes of Malia talking about her cancer. I passed it on to a colleague, Dr. Singh. He’s young but brilliant, and he’s got this trial that’s getting started here in New York. Anyway, long story short, the trial starts in three weeks, and we need to talk to Malia’s mother and doctors like five minutes ago.”
Paige’s world blurred into a whirl of paint fumes and power tools. Words like stem cells and remission floated to her from far away.
“Lis, this would be… incredible.”
“Yeah. No kidding. Now give me the mother’s number.”
“Geez, okay. Look, we’re getting ready to shoot right now, so Carina’s going to be pretty busy.”
“Just get me ten minutes with her. Today, okay?”
“Today. Yeah. Keep your phone on you.”
“So are you sleeping with him?” Lisa asked, changing subjects as abruptly as a senior citizen changed lanes in Miami.
“What? Who?”
“Gannon King.”
“I didn’t think TV gossip reached your bubble,” Paige muttered.
“That’s definitely not a no.”
“I’m kinda busy here.”
“Mom’s certainly not thrilled with the idea, but if you’re going to date in that world, you could do worse,” Lisa said drolly.
“I’ve gotta go, Lisa. I’ll call you later with Carina.”
“Talk soon,” her sister signed off.
Paige disconnected and hugged the phone to her chest. She deliberately ignored her sister’s interest in her sex life and chose to focus on the good news. If anyone deserved a miracle, it was the Dufours. This could be so much bigger than a nice place to call home. She felt like she was going to explode with excitement.
A tug on the hem of her tank top had her jumping out of her skin.
“Ashton!” Paige was delighted to see the little boy grinning up at her. Flanked by his parents, he was dwarfed by the huge bouquet of flowers he held.
“Miss Paige, we brought you these,” he said, holding the bouquet up to her.
“For me?” Paige buried her face in the lovely blooms.
“We can never thank you enough for keeping Ashton safe,” his mother, a lovely brunette with a shy smile, told her. “If it weren’t for you…” she trailed off, and her husband slid an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently.
Ashton’s father, tall and lanky with his son’s blue eyes, smiled. “We’re indebted to you. If there’s anything you ever need in Portland, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you. I’m… speechless,” Paige admitted.
