Page 167 of Eight Years Gone

“No, I didn’t.”

“You landed hard on your hip.”

“I’m well aware.” She reached out her hands. “Colton, help me up.”

He looked at Grace.

“Your sister doesn’t make my decisions. Now, help me up, please.”

Colton nodded, gently helping Aunt Maggie to her feet, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “How do you feel?”

“Embarrassed.”

Grace grabbed the stool, moving it for Maggie to sit down. “How’s your hip?”

“Bruised, I’m sure.”

Grace nibbled her lip, deciding if she should risk Aunt Maggie’s wrath and call Asa. “I imagine you don’t want me to drive you home so you can rest.”

Maggie adjusted herself on the seat. “You imagine correctly.” She snatched up the orange ribbon. “I need to finish my arrangement. This damn MS won’t be getting the better of me. Now, all of you get back to work,” she said as she glanced at Amanda standing in the doorway. “I’m not interested in being stared at.”

Grace nodded, glancing at the clock again, choosing not to make the call. Asa would be at the shop soon, anyway. “I’m going to head to the office for a few minutes and get the Instagram post up.”

“That sounds like a good idea. You know I’m not big on fussing.”

“I do.” Grace headed to the back, half closing the office door, leaning her butt against the desk as she covered her face with unsteady hands, taking several deep breaths.

She was doing everything she could to keep Aunt Maggie’s stress down. She’d streamlined the online ordering to make things as efficient as possible for the upcoming holiday season and beyond. They’d even changed some of their vendors for the absolute best quality flowers.

No matter what she did to keep Maggie’s life as relaxed as possible, it wasn’t helping. Aunt Maggie was declining quickly whether there was stress in her life or not.

Taking another deep breath, certain that the tears wouldn’t come, she dropped her hands, jumping when she realized Colton stood in the doorway, staring at her.

“Aunt Maggie seems okay,” he said.

She nodded, knowing he was trying to reassure her. “Yes, she seems to be.”

He stepped farther inside. “She needs a different stool, though. Something safer.”

Grace sighed. If only Colton knew how many times she’d broached the subject with Aunt Maggie. “She does, but she isn’t a big fan of accommodations.”

“I can see that. I wouldn’t like it if I woke up to realize I couldn’t do the things I’d always done. Accommodations are probably pretty confronting.”

She nodded, understanding that Colton’s heart was as big as his attitude had once been. Jessica had done a great job raising a caring, empathetic son. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

He shook his head. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need something safer.”

“If you have any ideas of how we can convince her, I’m all ears.”

“We could make it a gift—like something from you and me. The whole brother and sister thing. She won’t be able to say no.”

Grace narrowed her eyes as she slowly nodded. “That’s pretty sneaky.”

He shrugged. “Sort of.”

She smiled. “I like it.”

He smiled back. “She needs something with a back and armrests or whatever. So she can’t fall backward.”

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