Page 22 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I turned around.

Walked off that bridge.

And didn’t stop until I reached the center of town.

The bell over Eleanor’s café gave a cheerful jingle as I stepped inside. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

It was too early for the usual brunch crowd, but Eleanor was already behind the counter in her signature blue cardigan and reading glasses perched halfway down her nose.

Marge was at the corner table with a half-finished crossword and a steaming mug of what I assumed was her infamous rose-hip tea.

Both women looked up at the same time.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes slightly. “Well, well. Dr. Cole. You’re out before nine and not dressed like you’re going to court. Should we be worried?”

“I need your help,” I said.

Marge set down her pen. Eleanor folded her hands on the counter, curiosity immediately sharpening into something more focused.

“It’s Ruby,” I said.

Eleanor didn’t blink. “Go on.”

“Her shop was damaged. A pipe burst. Half her inventory is waterlogged. She’s trying to fix it herself, but…” I hesitated. “She was at the riverside this morning. Alone. Crying.”

Marge’s face fell. “Oh no.”

“She won’t ask for help,” I added. “But she needs it. And I don’t want her to lose what she’s built. I’ve seen what happens when someone breaks and no one’s there to catch them.”

The words came out harder than I intended.

But they were the truth.

I braced myself for questions. For sideways glances. For a lecture about pride or vulnerability or whatever it was I clearly lacked in the emotional follow-through department.

Instead, Eleanor’s smile spread slow and knowing.

“Finally,” she murmured.

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been walking around this town like a pressure cooker with a tie. We’ve all been waiting for you to admit she matters to you.”

“She—” I stopped. Exhaled. “Yes. She does.”

Marge pushed back from the table, already rummaging through her purse. “You came to the right place. We’ve got volunteers who owe us favors and flower-lovers who’d sell their prize-winning tomatoes just to get Ruby back on her feet.”

I looked between them. “You’d really organize that? On short notice?”

Eleanor smirked. “Damien. We ran an entire Founders Day Festival with two weeks’ prep and no electricity. This? This is a restoration mission. With glitter.”

“And community spirit,” Marge added brightly. “But mostly glitter.”

I didn’t smile.

But something in my chest eased.

“She won’t like it,” I warned.

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