Page 75

Fine by me.

I keep my chin up and offer Parker a polite smile as I open the doors to the lobby. Chad and his father can either straighten up or ship out.

For the first time in weeks, a genuine sense of optimism settles over me as I step out of the clinic and into the late afternoon sun. The interview with Parker Hamilton couldn’t have gone better. I wonder if he could recommend a few additional colleagues? Knowing there’s hope for infusing positive, respectful physicians into the practice lifts a heavy weight from my shoulders. One I’ve carried far too long.

Instead of heading straight home, I make a turn down the familiar, tree-lined road leading toward Gramps’ house. I need to check on him, but more than that, I can’t wait to share the good news.

I walk through the unlocked back door of his cottage, calling out softly, “Grandpa? It’s Lexi.” But when I step into the kitchen, I freeze dead in my tracks.

Standing in front of the open oven, bent completely over at the waist as he pulls out a tray of baked goods, I find my grandfather wearing a red ruffled apron.

And absolutely nothing else.

His bare ass is completely exposed to the room.

“Grandpa!” I shriek. “Where are your pants?”

My purse drops to the floor as I throw my hands over my eyes.

My eyes!

Will that sight be permanently seared in my brain?

A wave of hysterical panic slams into my chest. My mind instantly shifts into doctor mode, racing through worst-case neurological scenarios. How could I have missed this? Has his mind completely deteriorated? Had the fatigue really been something else altogether?

Is this sun-downing? Severe dementia? I’m a physician, for gosh sakes. I should’ve caught the signs of a cognitive decline long before now.

“Oh dear,” a second, very familiar voice gasps from behind me.

I flinch, slowly pulling my hands down from my face enough to peek through my fingers.

Standing near the pantry is Bunny. She’s wearing a matching yellow apron, clutching a spatula to her heaving bosom. Beyond the frilly apron, she’s otherwise sporting the exact same lack of clothing as my grandpa.

What in the fresh hell have I just walked into?

“Oh my god,” I squeak, spinning around on my heel to face the wall. My cheeks are burning with a heat so intense it feels like a third-degree burn. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

“Lexi, sweetheart, calm down,” Grandpa cajoles, his voice surprisingly spry as the oven door clacks shut. “Give us just a minute. Bunny, I think perhaps you should grab your things from the bedroom, doll.”

Thank goodness they were wearing aprons. Beyond my mind being scarred for life, he could’ve burned his giblets pulling those turnovers out of the oven. And that’s one patient I may have referred to another physician.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I guess hoping Bunny has dementia too is sounding less likely.

“Life’s real good at knocking the pretty off your plans,” Bunny grumbles. “Lovely seeing you, Alexis.” I hear the rustle of fabric, the shuffle of feet into shoes, and the sound of the side door opening and closing. Only when the house goes completely silent do I dare turn around.

Grandpa is standing by the island, fully dressed in his denim overalls, calmly wiping down the counter with a dish towel. He looks up at me with a comical smile. “Thank you for asking Bunny to come check on me, Alexis. It’s been wonderful seeing her again.”

My face falls straight into my hands, a long, muffled groan escaping my lips.

Gah. I could’ve lived without seeing quite so much of either of you.

I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from the sheer humiliation of finding these two cooking it up in here. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I guess I should be relieved you don’t have dementia,” I mumble into my palms, slowly looking up at him with wide, traumatized eyes.

Grandpa winks at me, taking a warm turnover off the tray. “There’s life in the old dog yet, kiddo.” Ugh. Don’t remind me. “Now go on home to your husband.”

I shake my head.

“You want to borrow an apron?”