"Hey, Mags. These kind folks here ran into some trouble with the storm. Do you have any rooms available? I know you have that crew here from Georgia who come every year, but I thought maybe you could squeeze 'em in," Tim said, sliding his arms around his niece's shoulder. "Grant and Jamie, this is my niece, Maggie. Or Mags to those of us who watched her grow up from being a peanut. Maggie, this is Grant and Jamie." He finished the introductions with a nod in our direction.
"It's nice to meet you two. I expected to see you earlier after Aunt June called today," she said, reaching out to shake our hands, which was a bit awkward since I was still in Grant's arms. "You're in luck. I had a cancellation on the Washington room," she said, wiping her hands on her Christmas apron that was covered in flour. "Are you on your honeymoon?" she asked, probably wondering why Grant hadn't put me down yet.
Her question was simple enough to answer, but for some reason, it suddenly felt like the white elephant in the room. I dared not look at Grant, afraid of the mocking that was sure to be there. Knowing him, he'd come up with some kind of joke at my expense. To beat him to the punch, I jumped in with the first thing that popped into my head. "Hell no," I all but shouted, hearing myself echo in the small foyer. An uncomfortable silence filled the room and I wouldn't have blamed Grant if he dropped me on my ass.
"I mean, I hurt my ankle," I finally said, finding the rational answer. "That's why my friend Grant is carrying me."
"Oh, you poor thing. Let me show you up to your room," she said, grabbing an old-fashioned looking key off an elegant key rack that hung next to the small reception desk. "Do you want me to call Doc Jones, or are you going to go get him?" she asked Tim.
"I'm going to fetch him. That ole pickup truck of his has been giving him some issues. I keep telling him it's time to drive to the city to get a new model. You know him though. He feels if he fiddles with it a little, it'll be good as new."
"That's Doc for ya. He feels there ain't nothing broken that can't be fixed," Maggie told us with twinkling eyes as she headed for the staircase. "I'll get these two settled in then," she threw over her shoulder.
Grant followed behind her with me still tucked in his arms, which I was thankful for. After my slip of the tongue, he could have left me in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Maggie led us down a long hallway, stopping at the last door at the end of the hallway. She inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. "Welcome to the Washington Honeymoon Suite," she said, holding her arms out in a grand gesture.
"Oh hell," Grant mumbled under his breath.
Chapter 8
Turning my head, I took in the room. Our room. For a honeymoon suite, it definitely lived up to its name. Maggie got a fire started in the massive fireplace that was across from a king-sized sleigh bed, which would have dominated the space if not for how large the room was. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered the walls on either side of the fireplace. As beautiful as the room was, my eyes only seemed to be able to focus on the one bed.
"You folks were actually pretty lucky. This storm made it impossible for the newlyweds who paid for this room to make it. They decided to fly to Bermuda instead, but that means all the amenities they bought are now yours," Maggie said, pointing to a bottle of champagne that was chilling by the fireplace next to a platter of decadent chocolate-covered strawberries. I would have laughed if the whole situation didn't seem so ridiculous. How did I go from flying home for the holidays to being laid up in a honeymoon suite with my high school crush?
"This is fantastic," Grant said in a strangled voice, depositing me on the bed and backing up toward the door. "I better go see if the doctor is here," he said before fleeing from the room.
Maggie looked at me questioningly as I burst out laughing. "He's a bit of a commitment-phobe," I said, though it really wasn't funny. I had officially lost it.
"How long have you two been dating?" Maggie asked, taking my jacket and hanging it in the closet.
"Oh, no, we're not dating," I said, leaning back against the stack of pillows that lined the headboard. "We went to school together. It just so happens we ran into each other on our way home for the holidays. The funny thing is the trip has turned into something right out of the movies."
"That sounds like an interesting story."
"You could put it that way, but it's almost more appropriate to call it a disaster story," I admitted, launching into an explanation of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Maggie found the retelling of our adventure extremely humorous. We were both laughing when Grant returned with the doctor.
"Hello, young lady, I'm Doc Jones," the elderly gentleman said, holding out his hand. "I heard you hurt your ankle playing in the snow," he added, winking at me.
"That's one way to put it," I answered as Maggie giggled again. I grinned back, which turned into a laugh when Grant looked at both of us like we had sprouted an extra head. Doc Jones paid no attention as he moved to the foot of the bed where my sore ankle was propped up over a stack of pillows.
"The first thing I'm going to do is remove your boot, which will cause some discomfort," he said, tugging on my boot. Discomfort was a total understatement. I wanted to yell the whole dictionary of curse words, but I didn't want to shock everyone in the room. I leaned back against the pillows, panting as the doc examined my foot. I tried to appear tough for my audience, but all I really wanted to do was cry. My ankle, which had been merely throbbing, now felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Only when I heard Maggie clucking her tongue sympathetically did I raise my head off the pillows so I could peer at my right ankle. I studied it critically, not believing it was mine. It was easily twice its normal size, if not bigger. The most startling aspect was the color. The normal creamy tone of my skin was gone and replaced by an icky rainbow of blues, blacks and purples that all blended together into a bright swollen mess.
I sank back against the pillow again as Doc Jones continued to probe at the monstrosity that was now my ankle. I knew he was being gentle as he could, but it felt like he was running it through a meat grinder. I turned my head from the others as a tear crept out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to tell him he was examining a swollen ankle, not working in a pottery class.
"Well, I'm ninety-nine percent sure it's just a really bad sprain, but I'm going to wrap it good until we can get X-rays done to make sure. The closest hospital is twenty miles away, but we should wait until the storm has passed," he said, pulling a bandage from his bag. By the time he was done, a thin layer of sweat had beaded up on my forehead, but the pain was at least bearable now that the ankle was wrapped.
Finally, when my foot was propped up again, I looked over at Grant, who had remained stoically silent during the examination.
"Maggie, dear, will you get Jamie something to drink for her pain pills?" Doc Jones asked, pulling out a sample pack of pills. "These will help with the pain and might make you a little loopy, so no alcohol," he said, looking pointedly at the champagne.
"Can't I just take ibuprofen?" I asked, not liking the idea of taking pain pills with Grant around. Especially if they were supposed to make me loopy.
"Ibuprofen should work tomorrow, but for tonight you're going to want to take these," he said, popping two of the pills out of the pack.
Maggie handed me the glass of ice water she had poured from the ceramic pitcher on the highboy dresser. She winked at me as Doc handed over the pills. She knew why I didn't want to take them.
I stuck my tongue out at her before dropping the pills into my mouth. She laughed as she headed for the door. "I better go check on supper. Are you up to joining us in the dining room, or would you like me to bring a tray up?" she asked me.