Because of Audrey. Mary Sullivan

he didn’t have a sweet tooth, he bit into a doughnut. Hilary grinned.

      Stifling a sigh, he turned away to socialize, asking about spouses and children.

      When the last of the employees had finally dribbled in, Gray called for their attention.

      He thanked them for their loyalty over the years and their hard work. Then, with Arnie by his side, he unloaded his bombshell.

      “We’re canceling the benefits package my dad gave to all of you a few years ago.”

      The eruption of complaints hit the rafters, the sound level sending the throbbing in Gray’s temples into overdrive.

      “Cripes,” he mumbled to Arnie. “You’d think I was killing a litter of puppies.”

      “Can I say I told you so? Once you’ve given something to people, they take ownership. You try to take it back and they don’t thank you for having given it to them in the first place. Instead, they think they’re being robbed.” Arnie shrugged. “Human nature.”

      Once Gray got the crowd under control again, he got right to the point. “Here’s the alternative. Layoffs.”

      Again, more grumbling, but this time more subdued. Shock, no doubt.

      “I’m fighting tooth and nail to not have that happen. I’ve kept you all on and plan to continue to do so, but you have to work with me. We need to cut corners like crazy. The economy is bad across the country.”

      Mumbling all around. The employees’ fear smelled metallic, like spilled blood.

      “My concern,” Gray continued, “is that once I let any of you go, you won’t get another job. The retail, hotel and restaurant sectors of Accord are doing well because of tourism, but industry is suffering. We need to fight hard to save Turner Lumber.”

      He stalked to his office and slapped a hand against the office wall he’d slid open earlier. “This,” he said, “will be open all day most days. If any of you have ideas on how to cut costs, how to improve service to the customers so they’ll return more often, how to change anything that will help this company stay in business, you come to me and I’ll listen.”

      Tired to the bone, he all but mumbled, “I’m heading out now. I’m sure you all have a lot you want to discuss without the boss hovering, so stay as long as you need to. Everyone still has jobs for now. See you tomorrow morning.”

      He left the office. Where minutes ago, it had been full of noise, now it was silent. Perhaps they finally understood the situation. Despite how he’d tried to make changes recently, they had resisted and hadn’t understood fully how bad things were.

      But Gray had. Maybe now they did, too.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “AUDREY!” THE PANIC in Dad’s voice had Audrey dropping the dress she was sewing and running downstairs. It was seven in the morning, and she’d been up since six.

      After her run-in with Gray yesterday at the greenhouses, she’d planned to wear something bold today to bolster her morale. The red dress with the huge white polka dots that she was hemming would have been perfect, but she would opt for something else.

      She rushed into the living room. Dad sat in his favorite recliner rubbing his shins.

      “What happened?”

      “Walked into the coffee table. Why did you move it?”

      She hadn’t. His eyesight was failing rapidly if he couldn’t see the monstrosity in front of the sofa that could house a small village.

      “You have to remember to turn your head when you move. Learn to use your peripheral vision.” Macular degeneration caused vision loss in the center of the field of vision. Dad could no longer see and recognize faces, not even his own daughter’s. Or his own, for that matter. Good thing. It was probably a godsend that when he looked into a mirror, he wouldn’t see how much he’d aged in the past year.

      “It’s hard walking forward while turning your head sideways,” he said, voice ripe with frustration. “I try.”

      “I know you do. It’s a huge adjustment.”

      She sat on the table and lifted his pant legs. “You’ll be sporting some impressive bruises tomorrow.”

      She glanced up at his impassive face, his vibrancy drained by his affliction.

      “The skin isn’t broken. I’m sorry, Dad. There’s nothing I can do.” She rubbed his shin gently to soften that news, then stood and walked to the hall. “I’m going back up to my sewing.”

      “Don’t.”

      She stopped in the doorway and watched him expectantly. Stress had ravaged his once handsome face. Deep creases bracketed his sullen mouth. Oh, Dad.

      “Read to me,” he said, sounding so much like a little boy asking for a bedtime story she almost smiled. She had wanted to work in the greenhouses before heading into Denver today.

      But Dad needed her.

      The more and more trouble he had with his eyesight, the more childlike he became in his demands. An avid, lifelong reader, Dad could no longer read to himself. He resisted listening to the audio books she got for him from the library. She knew it was more than stubbornness. It was fear. If he started using them, it would be an open admission of how much he had lost in his life.

      And he had more worry hanging over his head. Dry macular degeneration had already caused a blind spot in the center of his vision. If his condition changed to wet macular degeneration, blood vessels could grow under his retinas, leaking blood and fluid, and distorting what was left of the little vision he still had.

      The doctors couldn’t predict whether it was a given.

      Poor Dad.

      It would be arrogant of Audrey to believe she understood how taxing Dad’s life must be these days. Her eyesight and her health were perfect.

      “Dad, I have to get to work. I can read to you this evening.”

      “You call that work? That shop? Mucking about with flowers?”

      Audrey braced herself, heartily sick of this old argument. “The shop allows me to live in Accord with you.”

      “I don’t need you to live with me. You didn’t have to come home.”

      Oh, Daddy. Of course she did. She’d returned to town as soon as Dad had been diagnosed a year ago. How could she not have come home? Dad might be stubborn and unrealistic in his views that he could live alone, but she loved him. They belonged together, especially in his time of need. She was all he had left.

      “I can get around this house just fine,” he insisted.

      “And town? Do you get around town fine?” Dad sucked in a breath. She wasn’t being cruel. Just realistic. “You refuse to leave the house. How would you get your groceries?”

      “I’d have them delivered. Or hire a kid to pick them up.”

      But they wouldn’t be Audrey. They wouldn’t read to him because he could no longer read to himself. They wouldn’t cook him the meals he loved. Or force him to eat the healthy stuff he hated. Or spend time with him in the evenings.

      Audrey held her tongue and picked up the print book from the end table. It tied into Dad’s fascination with World War II. Audrey didn’t get how Dad could listen to talk of war when his own son had been killed in Afghanistan.

      She opened to the section on the Berlin Airlift.

      Please, please, please, let me read something uplifting.

      When she started reading, though, Dad said, “Not that stuff. Turn to the Invasion of Normandy. All the good stuff, all the turning points happened in the battles.”

      “But the good stuff for me is