Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

The smell of fresh coffee gave Spencer a boost as he walked into The Mellow Mug, and he breathed in, sure he could smell the cinnamon of Melanie's pastries underneath it. The shop was all decked out for the holidays, a tree twinkling in the corner, and he walked up to the register to order his usual: a peppermint white mocha. He drank standard coffee most of the time, with just a little cream, but during the holidays he liked the festive flavor. He'd never had time for drinking a fancy latte before work when he was in San Francisco, and it felt like a reminder of just one of the reasons that he enjoyed being here in Evergreen Hollow.

"Is that all?" Melanie asked as she rang him up, and he hesitated for just a moment.

"I'll get a cinnamon brown sugar latte as well," he said, giving in to the impulse. He had planned to check in on Margo, and he thought it would be a nice gesture. Hopefully, she would appreciate the thought, and maybe he'd get a smile out of her. He thought she was probably feeling down, stuck being off her feet with a broken leg.

Just being neighborly , he told himself as he collected the coffees and headed out to his car, but as he set them down and started the engine, Jingle Bells filling the small space as the radio came on, he had to admit that it was also because he wanted to do something special for her. He had liked her from the start, and he wished they'd met in a different capacity. An after-hours visit for a broken leg definitely wasn't the most romantic of settings.

He parked in front of The Mistletoe Inn, grabbing both coffees, and knocked on the door. Rhonda Stoker answered it—he knew her from the times she'd visited his office—and he smiled at her.

"Morning. Can I come in? I wanted to check on Margo. See how that leg is holding up."

A broad smile crossed Rhonda's face at that. "Of course you can." She opened the door wider, stepping back. "Come on in. Margo is in the living room. Is that for her?" She nodded at the cup in his hand, a knowing look on her face.

"It is." He flashed her a smile. "Just a little pick-me-up."

"Margo's always glad for another cup of coffee." Rhonda beamed at him, and then hurried off toward the back of the inn, leaving him alone to head into the living room.

He saw Margo immediately, as soon as he walked in. She was sitting in an armchair next to the fireplace, her leg in its cast propped up on an ottoman, and he could see in an instant that she was restless. Her crutches were propped within reaching distance, a book was flopped open and face down on the table next to her, and she had a video playing on her phone, but it was lying in her lap. It was clear she couldn't focus on anything, and she had a dejected expression on her face that tugged at his heartstrings.

Until she looked up and saw him standing there, and her face brightened instantly.

He knew he shouldn't read too much into that. She was possibly just glad to see anyone, bored out of her mind as she probably was. But he liked seeing her face brighten up like that for him. It made him glad he'd decided to drop by and bring her the coffee.

"I thought I'd come and see you, make sure you were all right. And bring you some caffeine—not that you have anywhere for the energy to go right now," he joked. The moment he said it, he wondered if it would strike a nerve instead of being funny.

Fortunately, Margo seemed to see the humor in it. She smiled as he handed her the coffee, immediately taking a sip of it. "Oh, that's good," she said. "Nora said the coffee shop in town was something else. I hadn't had a chance to go yet, but it really is good. I guess her best friend owns it."

"Your sister's best friend? I didn't know that." Spencer smiled, nodding at the chair next to Margo. "All right if I sit down?"

"Of course." She took another sip of her latte. "You don't have appointments?"

"Nothing until this afternoon. And the nurses can take care of any walk-ins for a bit. Unless there's another accident on the ski slopes." He winked at her. "How are you doing? Any pain?"

"Oh, so this is an official visit." She was still smiling though. "A little at night. I think when the meds start to wear off, and when I start getting tired around then, it starts to get achy. A little bit of stabbing pain, sometimes. But nothing like when I first broke it."

Spencer leaned forward, looking at the cast. "This is all holding up well. You're following all the instructions?"

"Yes, doctor." She said it sarcastically, but with a hint of humor, and he thought to himself that he liked the way she said it more than he probably should.

"I thought you were a tourist. But you must have grown up here—I haven't been here long, but I know the history of this place, at least." He looked at her curiously. "Home for the holidays?"

"Something like that." Margo shifted in her seat, and he thought he felt a little uneasiness from her, but he decided not to pry. "What about you? You said you moved here a year ago? Where from?"

She asked her questions with a surprising directness, and he remembered that she'd said she was a journalist. A photojournalist, but that probably still involved some interviewing, he imagined. He didn't mind. "I came from San Francisco," he said easily. "I used to work at one of the big hospitals there, right out of medical school. But when my father needed someone to take over the practice, I decided to leave and move here. It was a big decision, but one I'm glad I made."

"You like being a small-town doctor?" Margo looked at him quizzically, and Spencer nodded.

"I love it," he said sincerely. "The pace is different, and I didn't realize how much I needed that until I was in it. And I feel like I matter to these people. Not that I didn't matter, in San Francisco. I know I was doing important work there too. But it's more personal, here. It's hard to explain, exactly. But I haven't regretted the change a bit. And it gives me some time to myself, which is nice. No mornings like this, working at the hospital in the city."

Margo blinked slowly at him, a small smile on her lips as she took another drink of her latte. "So you're saying you didn't bring every patient who fell victim to unfortunate circumstances a personal cinnamon latte?"

He felt his face flush immediately at that. He couldn't help it, and he knew from the way her smile grew that she'd noticed. She'd been trying to see if she could get a bit of a rise out of him, and she'd succeeded.

"How long will it take for this to get better?" Margo asked, gesturing at her leg. "A few weeks?"

Spencer winced. "Six to twelve," he said honestly. "If you follow all of the instructions, and take good care of it, and don't overdo things, it'll be more toward the lower end of that, hopefully. Otherwise, you're looking at a solid twelve, if not more."

Margo's face fell instantly. "Oh," she said softly, and he could feel her disappointment. It was palpable.

He could tell she was used to being on the go. She was clearly someone who was typically active and outgoing, and this injury had taken the wind out of her sails. It was undoubtedly marring what would probably have otherwise been a good visit home.

He didn't say anything out loud. But to himself, he resolved to find a way to make it up to her.

He wanted to make her time back in Evergreen Hollow as memorable as it possibly could be.