Sugar Rush. Elaine Overton

oven in the back.”

      “Uh-huh,” Wayne muttered, moving to the side to make way.

      Despite his seeming lack of interest, Sophie knew from experience that Wayne’s mind was like a trap and he would remember precisely everything she was saying.

      “And if you have a chance can you review that contract for the Fielding wedding? Sheila Marks called this morning; apparently she and her fiancé are beefing again. Check the cutoff date for the deposit return.” She shook her head. “This is the third time she’s done this to me.”

      After checking her vitals, the paramedics gently lifted her to the stretcher. “Oh,” Sophie added, “and remember to—”

      “Sophie!” Wayne snapped.

      Sophie’s eyes widened. Wayne hardly ever raised his voice.

      “I got this,” he said, returning to his typical monotone. “I got this.”

      Sophie took a deep breath. “I know.” And she did, but the habits of the last five years were not easily broken.

      They heard a commotion at the front of the building.

      “I’m going with you,” Mae announced, pulling her stained apron over her head.

      “Grandma, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

      “Hush, child.” She glanced at Lonnie and Dante as they led the way into the back area. “Lonnie, run upstairs and get my purse.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” The girl hurried away.

      Sophie started to argue, but what was the point? It was a well-known fact in Selmer that Sophie Mayfield had inherited her stubborn nature directly from her grandmother.

      Wayne and Dante watched in silence as the paramedics rolled her down the hall leading to the storefront.

      “Back to work, guys,” Sophie called playfully. “We have a growing business to support.”

      “I want to keep you overnight.”

      “What?!” Sophie stared up at her doctor. “But you said you could just cast it and send me home.”

      “That was before I saw the X-rays.” Dr. Michelson frowned at her over the top of his bifocals. “That break left a pretty nice tear, young lady. For it to heal properly you are going to have to stay off your feet.”

      “Fine—send me home and I’ll stay off my feet.”

      He huffed in disbelief.

      Sophie frowned. That was the problem with a small, tightly knit community. Sometimes your neighbors and friends knew you too well. “But, Dr. Michelson, I have a business to run.”

      “Well, it looks like Mae and Wayne are going to be on their own for a while.” Dr. Michelson continued to scribble something on his pad. “I’m confining you to bed rest for the next six to eight weeks.”

      “Six to eight weeks?!”

      “Sophie, I would appreciate it if you would stop screaming in my ear.”

      “Sorry. Dr. Michelson, but we just signed this really important contract. Is there anything you can put on it to protect it? I know—maybe if I were on crutches or even in a wheelchair…”

      Eric Michelson watched her for several seconds before crossing the room to pick up one of the X-rays. Holding it up to the light, he pointed to a blurry white patch. “See that? That is the broken bone. Because of its location the healing could go either way. If I set it and you keep it still for the next six weeks, it should heal completely and you will be as good as new. If not, the bone will not heal properly—and for the rest of your life, you will probably have chronic pain in your ankle. Is that what you want?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Then let me do my job. That bakery was standing long before you were born, and since I delivered you I can attest to that fact. Trust me, it will survive without you for six weeks.”

      Sophie bit her bottom lip to keep from expressing her own doubts about that. Before she was born her grandmother was a young woman working alongside her new husband, helping to build their family business. But today, her grandmother was an eighty-year-old woman with a failing memory. And Sophie had noticed that a few times Mae seemed to just stop paying attention right in the middle of a conversation. But when Sophie had asked, Mae was too proud to admit that anything was wrong.

      “Sophie,” Dr. Michelson said. He watched her with compassionate eyes. “You’re a grown woman. When I release you tomorrow you, of course, can do what you want. But I want you to understand the price you’ll pay for the stubborn streak you seemed to have been cursed with.”

      She nodded. What was she supposed to say? Yes, Dr. Michelson, I want to be crippled forever. As much as she hated it, she knew she would take his advice. It was the only reasonable thing to do.

      As he turned to leave, her mind was already calculating what needed to be done over the next six weeks. “I’ll go get you a room and let Mae know what’s going on,” he said. As he opened the door, Mae shuffled past him.

      She wrapped Sophie in a tight hug, as if Sophie had been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

      “The nurse in the hall said they were checking you in to the hospital.”

      “Grandma, I’m fine.”

      “I’m keeping her overnight to allow the cast to set, and afterwards, she’s going to be on bed rest for six weeks.” The doctor pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Mae, I need your assurance that Sophie will be off her feet for six weeks.”

      Mae’s eyes narrowed on her eldest granddaughter, and she nodded with determination. “Don’t you worry, Dr. Michelson, she will.”

      Sophie did not miss the small smirk on Dr. Michelson’s face as he glanced at her once more before letting himself out of the room.

      “Grandma, I left my cell phone at the store. Can I borrow yours? I need to call Wayne and let him know what’s happening.”

      Mae dug around in the bottom of her worn purse and came up with the small cell phone.

      “Where is your leg broke exactly?”

      “Actually, it’s the ankle. Thanks.” She turned it on, and the phone immediately shut off.

      “Ankle? Never heard of anybody breaking their ankle.”

      Sophie frowned at the phone and turned it on again. And once again it automatically turned off. Her lips twisted as understanding came. “When was the last time you charged your phone?”

      “I don’t know.” Mae pulled a small stool closer to the bed. “Did you want me to bring you something to eat? Hospital food is so bland.”

      “Um…no. Where’s your charger?”

      “My what?”

      Sophie frowned again. “Never mind.”

      She settled back against the stretcher, deciding to just wait until she was assigned a room and call Wayne from there. But, unfortunately, the useless cell phone in her hand gave her a bigger and more immediate concern than the goings-on at the bakery.

      She knew her grandmother would insist on driving herself home, instead of waiting for someone from the store to come get her. She glanced at the window, where the light was already beginning to fade. “Maybe you should get going. It’s getting late.”

      “No, I’ll stay until they get you settled in for the night.”

      That’s what I was afraid of. She twisted her lips, considering whom she could call or depend on to come if they said they would, and out of her large family there was not a single one. It would have to be someone from the store.

      Sophie had bought the phone cell for Mae almost six months before,