“Ferguson, Georgiana,” he said, “I’d like for you to meet Amber Rowe.”
Amber held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure,” she said, and after a slight hesitation, Ferguson shook her hand. Georgiana didn’t offer her hand at all.
“Thought your place was next door,” Ferguson said to Paul.
“It is,” Paul began.
Davey had gone back to digging, but he looked over his shoulder. “This is Miss Amber’s house,” he said.
“Oh!” Georgiana sounded taken aback.
Paul’s face reddened. “We’re just here for a quick visit,” he said. “We can head over and you can see our new cottage.”
“Da-ad,” Davey whined, “I wanna dig!”
“Seems I may have created a monster,” Amber said when none of the others spoke up. “Tell you what, Davey, you can come back another time and dig me more holes.”
Davey’s lower lip stuck out.
“You were a big help.” She smiled at him and held out her hand for the little shovel.
“Come on, Davey,” Paul said. “We need to show Grammy and Grampa your new room. And find out about that new truck they’re driving.”
Davey thrust the digger into Amber’s hand and turned, still sulking.
“I know who you are,” Georgiana said suddenly. “You’re the woman who wrote that book.”
Amber smiled. The publisher had insisted on putting her picture on the book’s back cover, and there had been a few small news stories about the book. Georgiana must have seen one of them, or else picked up the book—which would make sense, given that her daughter’s story was in it. “That’s right, I am. Did you read it?”
“Yes.” Georgiana’s voice was stiff, and then she pressed her lips together.
Okay, then.
“Of course, you didn’t really know her.” Georgiana frowned. “I shouldn’t be surprised the section about her was so off base.”
Heat rose up Amber’s neck. But then she remembered that this was a grieving mother and father. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “Wendy seemed like a lovely person.”
Georgiana’s chin quivered. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”
Amber bit her lip to keep from spouting her credentials: she’d lost a family member to cancer, had gone through treatment herself, not once but twice, and now...realization jerked at her and she slid out her phone to check the time. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I have a phone call to make.” She was ten minutes late, and she could only pray she hadn’t missed Dr. Weber. “It was nice to meet you,” she added over her shoulder as she hurried up the stairs and inside.
She called the doctor and learned, with relief, that she was still in, but with a patient. “Yes, I’ll hold,” she said.
Through the open window, she could hear arguing.
“It was all so negative,” Georgiana was saying.
“Our Wendy wasn’t like that,” Ferguson added.
“C’mon, let’s go see my room!” That was Davey’s loud voice, and when she looked out, she saw that they’d headed off, their voices fading as they continued to argue.
She fingered through her travel brochures. She was going to get away from here, and that little family and its arguments and sorrow would be a thing of the past for her. By the time she returned from her trip, Paul and Davey might well be done with their three-month stint at the Healing Heroes cottage.
“Amber?” came Dr. Weber’s voice on the line. “Good news and bad news about the biopsy.”
Her stomach twisted. “Tell me.”
“The good news is, it’s not invasive carcinoma,” she said. “It’s what we call atypical endometrial hyperplasia. An accumulation of abnormal cells, which isn’t cancer, but can be a forerunner. Given your history...”
Amber pushed out words through a tight throat. “Can the cells be removed?”
“No need, right now, since it was an excisional biopsy. Everything is probably fine. But we’d like to keep an eye on it and do regular retesting, that’s all.”
Amber cleared her throat. “I’ve been planning a trip overseas.”
“I don’t see why you can’t go. Where and how long?”
She cleared her throat again. “India and the Far East, for several months right after the holidays.”
“Hmm.” The doctor was quiet for a moment. “We could retest again right before you go. And of course, there are doctors and hospitals everywhere.” But there was reservation in her voice.
“Be honest with me. What do you think I should do?”
Dr. Weber paused. They’d been through a lot together, and knew each other well, and Amber appreciated that the other woman wouldn’t dismiss her concerns, but neither would she argue the most conservative route just to be safe. “You should give it some thought,” she said finally. “If the travel is a bucket list item, then you should go. But you also want to consider your daughter, and—”
“I have to do the safest thing possible, for her sake,” Amber interrupted. “Which would be staying stateside. Right?”
Dr. Weber sighed. “Right. Especially since your chemo caused some compromised lung function. You’re in good shape now, but if you were to contract a virus...well, as I said, give it some thought. Maybe there’s a modified type of trip you could take.”
“I’ll look into it,” Amber said, disappointment pressing down on her. She already knew the answer. She’d have to stay home.
CHAPTER THREE
PAUL LED HIS IN-LAWS back toward his cottage, worrying about Amber. She’d hurried off so fast. Had she been offended by Georgiana’s remarks about her book?
It looked like he might have another apology to make to Amber, and truthfully, he didn’t hate the thought of that.
He lifted his face to the warm fall breeze and let his gaze rest on the bay. Sunlight from the east slanted over it, making its surface like a mirror. He could see a fishing boat, and beyond that, a little hummock with what looked like a duck blind built atop it.
“I just don’t like that woman,” Georgiana said, making it clear that Amber was still on her mind, too. “Those tattoos and that attitude. Keep Davey away from her.”
“Now, Georgie,” Ferguson said. “You know all the young people have tattoos nowadays. And what attitude? She was perfectly friendly.”
“Of
