Page 27 of Falling for the Guy Next Door

I crouched down in front of Sid and patted his hand. “Hope you feel better.”

“Thanks, kid, I’ll be fine. Not much can take down Sid Stratton.”

I climbed down the ladder and walked to the truck for my lunch cooler. I glanced at my phone. There were two voicemails—one from Ronnie and one from Becky. Becky hadn’t called in several days, which wasn’t unusual, but today she’d left a message to call her. The inside of the truck cab was too hot, even for a short phone call. I grabbed my water and pulled open the tailgate to sit on. It was hot, too, but not as suffocating as the inside of the truck.

Becky answered. “Hey, Nash, how are things there at the beach? Hot like here?”

“Actually, yeah, the sun is blazing today.” I glanced up to the work section I’d just climbed down from. Jeremy was taking Sid’s blood pressure while Sid drank a bottle of water. He looked better already. “How’s Mom?”

“She’s fine. Grumpy today, but then that’s usual.”

“Constant pain can do that to a person. That and her whole life came to a crashing halt after the accident. She was always so active and busy, and now she’s stuck on a couch.”

“You’re telling me something that I’m painfully aware of, Nash,” she said snippily. I probably deserved it. She was right. No one would know better than Becky.

“That’s one of the reasons I called. Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, just started my lunch break.” Across the way, Jeremy and Brian were making sure that Sid got safely down the ladder. I was relieved to see he was all right.

“First of all, I got a quote for one of those walk-in shower and tub combos. Eight thousand with installation. I’m not sure what you would do with one if it wasn’t installed. Anyway, Mom doesn’t want one, and there’s a chance she might not need it.” It seemed one of Becky’s new, big ideas was about to be dropped on me. She spent a lot of her day researching ways to help Mom, which was great, only the solutions usually came with an unaffordable price tag.

“I figured one of those walk-in combos would be six to eight grand. What’s your new idea?” I hadn’t meant to sound condescending, but apparently, I’d missed the mark.

“Great, so you’re already saying no before you hear what I have to say.”

“You’re right, Beck. Sorry. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“You know how I’ve been part of this support group for people taking care of family members with debilitating injuries?”

“Yes, how’s that going?”

“Actually, really good. We meet on video chat once a week. There’s this guy, Oliver, he’s taking care of his brother who had a skiing accident that nearly paralyzed him. Oliver’s actually kind of cute, and wow, I just said that to my twin brother. I really need to connect with my girlfriends again. Anyhow, ignore that last part. Oliver told me about this orthopedic specialist who specializes in traumatic back injuries. He has great reviews online. People say he gave them their lives back. His main office is just an hour away, in the city, so I called and got lucky. They had an opening for a consultation. I took Mom there yesterday, and Dr. Burman looked over all her medical records and MRIs and X-rays. He thinks he can help get her back on her feet.”

“Wow, that does sound promising. What does the insurance company say?”

The silence that followed answered the question for me.

“Let me guess,” I said, “they won’t cover it.”

“Of course not. They say it would be an elective surgery. Can you imagine? A surgery that would put her back on her feet would be elective.”

“How much is it? Or do I want to know?”

“Let’s just say we could put a walk-in tub in both bathrooms and then buy two each for the neighbors. It’s around sixty-thousand.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“We’ve got to do something. Now that Mom’s heard the encouraging news, she’s excited about it.”

“Damn, Becky, how are we going to swing something like that? The house is already mortgaged.”

“I was thinking maybe we could do one of those crowdfunding things, you know, and use your social media to help it flourish, only Mom says she won’t accept charity. She says it’ll make her feel pathetic because there are other people out there who need more help than her. I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t really considered charity, but you know, she’s from a different time. There’s just got to be a way we can come up with the money.”

“Give me some time to think about it. Anything else? Are you guys good on money right now? I don’t get paid until next Friday.”

“We’re good. Any chance there’ll be an extra forty grand in your paycheck? A summer bonus for working in the hot sun?”

“That’d be sweet, but I won’t get my hopes up. I’ve got to eat, so I can get back to work. I’ll give it some thought. Bye.”

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