Second Chance Dad Read Free Page B

been saying that since she turned eighty, and what I know about antiques would fit in her little finger,” Sophie said drily. “But either way, thanks for the offer.”
    â€œAnd I could use some extra hours here now that Elana is in school full-time,” Beth added.
    â€œYou guys are the best. I mean that.” Sophie dissolved into helpless laughter. “But you really don’t need me, and I refuse to be a burden to any of you.”
    Olivia’s forehead creased in a worried frown. “But what will you do?”
    Keeley handed the letter back, and Sophie put it in the folder with all the rest of her fading dreams. “I’ve tried every possible community hospital and clinic within a fifty-mile radius. I…guess I’ll just have to keep checking back with all of them. And I’ll also need to start looking much farther away.”
    â€œDon’t give up, sweetie. Things will work out.”
    Sophie thought of leaving the sweet little cottage she and her late husband, Rob, had bought just before his death two years ago. Then she thought of her crotchety grandpa, who refused to take care of his health or move from his little house in the woods, on the edge of town. And the teachers, who were gently helping her seven-year-old son learn to function better, despite his very mild form of Asperger’s.
    This was the town she loved. The one that held poignant memories of happier times.
    But sentiment wouldn’t pay her mortgage and school loans, or put food on the table, and Eli deserved better than having a mom who worked sixdays a week for minimum wage and who left him at his grandparents’ house way too much. And once her dad and stepmom moved to Florida this fall, what then? Paying full price for child care would be almost impossible on her tight budget.
    Keeley flopped back in her chair and scooped her long, honey-blond hair back with both hands. “If you have to leave, things will never be the same. We’ll miss you so much!”
    Beth nodded. “If that happens, we’ll take road trips . We’ll come visit once a month, if you can stand us.”
    â€œOr at least we can stay in touch via iChat or Skype, so we can see each other,” Olivia added. “You’ll feel like you never even left home.”
    The lilting notes of Bach’s “Solfegietto” rang merrily from the depths of Sophie’s purse, which meant she now owed a dollar to the coffee fund jar.
    â€œSorry—I thought I’d turned it off.”
    â€œAnswer it,” Keeley said, looking up from a book in her lap with a grin. “No penalty. We haven’t even started yet.” At the unfamiliar phone number on the screen Sophie hesitated, then answered anyway…and at the woman’s greeting she felt her heart lodge firmly in her throat.
    â€œSophie Alexander? This is Grace Dearborn. I need to speak to you right away.”
    Â 
    Sophie wearily leaned back in her desk chair and rubbed the back of her neck.
    On Monday and Tuesday she’d traveled the county to meet nine of her homebound patients and begin taking over their physical therapy sessions. Some of the older ones had taken a good look at her, then asked when the real therapist—that older gentleman—would be coming back. Some appeared too frail to be capable of significant progress, while others had been testy and uncooperative.
    Kindly Dr. McLaren had practically booted her out of the door.
    But during last Saturday’s phone call, Grace Dearborn had been crystal clear again about her expectations, and had expressed specific concerns about the fact that Sophie hadn’t yet convinced McLaren to resume therapy.
    Pointing out that the man had a perfect right to refuse any and all forms of medical care hadn’t impressed Grace in the least, and she hadn’t wavered a bit in her personal interest in his case, either.
    Sophie glanced at her watch, then powered her laptop down