Abbyâs heart. On Saturday heâd insisted the store would cover her motherâs medical expenses, but that was when heâd thought Hearth and Home might somehow be responsible. Now that they had the diagnosis of a spontaneous fracture, would the store try to weasel out? Would their insurance provider be like the others, washing their hands of the case and leaving her folks to fill in the gap that would surely be left once Medicare benefits were paid? Theyâd had enough setbacks during her fatherâs battle with MS to know how quickly the bills could pile up. Abby prayed they wouldnât have to rely on their church for assistance. Again.
The hospital parking lot was full and once more she was grateful for the handicapped spaces up front.
âDaddy, you go on in and stay as long as youâd like,â she offered as they entered the building. âIâll sit out here with Dillon.â
âYou sure were quiet on the way here, baby girl. I know youâve got a lot on your plate right now, but you donât need to worry about me and your mama. Just pray that God will continue to bless us like He always has and weâll be fine.â
Her daddy wheeled the manual chair that should have been replaced ages ago out of sight and Abby sank down onto a waiting-room sofa.
âIf God continues to bless us like He always has,â she muttered to herself, âweâre in a heap of trouble.â
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The next afternoon, Guy climbed down Shortyâs stepladder and flipped the switch by the kitchen door. The ceiling fan overhead whirred to life, sending a gentle rustle of cool air through the room. Guy folded the aluminum ladder, leaned it carefully against the wall, and gave the shiny silver chain that dangled from the new light fixture a tug. The bulbs glowed inside their tulip-cup houses, spreading much-needed illumination across the kitchen countertops.
One last touch and the job would be finished. He fished in the pocket of his Hearth and Home apron, drew out a small, faceted glass prism, and clipped it to the end of the pull chain. He stepped back to admire his work. Perfect.
âThanks.â It was a grumbled gratitude, but sincere nonetheless. âSarahâs been after me and Abby for a year to hang that thing. Now she can enjoy this nice breeze in the kitchen all summer.â The grouchy old man whoâd met Guy at the door yesterday was stillfront and center but heâd softened a bit. It was clear it would take a lot of effort to win his approval.
But from Shortyâs observations, it would take even more to earn Abbyâs. To quote Shorty, his daughter was âmadder than a wet hen.â Twenty-four hours earlier sheâd learned Guyâs identity from the store manager instead of from him directly. When heâd mentioned the situation to his sister on their nightly call, sheâd burst into snorts of laughter.
He could just imagine Casey wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes as she administered a dose of sibling wisdom.
âI adore you, big bro, but in some areas youâre pretty dense, which is why Dadâs going to give me your job one day.â Her chuckle carried over the phone line. âJust because your five sisters think you hung the moon, it doesnât naturally follow that every woman will love you like we do.â
He shook off the memory of the wisecrack. He didnât expect every woman to love him, but something about Abby Cramer made him want to be liked, at least a little bit.
The front door creaked open, a signal that she was home much earlier than the day before. Guy made a mental note to oil the hinge, and then quickly changed his mind. Until sheâd forgiven his failure to disclose, he probably needed a warning sign that she was in the house.
âHey, Daddy,â she called.
âIn the kitchen, baby girl.â
Guy lifted the stepladder, carried it through the entry leading to the darkened garage