Willowleaf Lane (18 page)

“You didn’t know? Mary Ella said the only reason Harry is so willing to open his wallet is because Spence is so committed to A Warrior’s Hope. He doesn’t think it has a chance of failing.”

Spence had said nothing of making a big donation to the organization on Saturday night. The colors of beads seemed to merge in front of her in a shimmery rainbow. Why hadn’t he mentioned it? Oh, it was difficult to protect her heart when he continued to sweep her legs out from under her like this.

“He’s not quite the villain we all want to think, is he?” Angie asked.

“No,” Charlotte answered softly, eyes burning with emotion. She looked back down at her beads, unable to bear the scrutiny of their gazes.

When the chimes on the door rang out, she was grateful—an emotion that turned to surprise when she saw the beloved figure who walked in.

“Pop!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Dermot gave a hearty smile. “I brought you all a bit of pie. We made too many blackberry and chocolate cream today and I was trying to think what to do with them when I remembered you had this class today. Thought you ladies might be able to help me get rid of it.”

He turned his considerable Irish charm on the girls, who giggled. Charlotte was amused to see her father looked anywhere but at Katherine, who was concentrating quite fiercely on the intricate braided seed-bead necklace she was making.

Charlotte didn’t understand why the two of them didn’t just get it over with and go on a date. Theirs had to be the slowest courtship in Colorado.

She had to wonder how her mother and father had ever gotten together and managed to conceive seven children if Pop could be this shy and awkward around a woman he was interested in, but she found it endearingly sweet, too.

“What an unexpected surprise,” Charlotte said with a grin. “I can’t imagine why you would think of
us,
completely out of the blue like that.”

He gave a stern look, fully cognizant of the reason for her teasing. “If you don’t want them, I’ll take them back to the café.”

“You will not,” Claire said. “You wouldn’t deny a pregnant woman, would you? I’ve had a craving for a piece of your blackberry pie for weeks. How did you know?”

Dermot gave his charmer of a smile. “Just a guess, my dear. Would you like me to cut them now or just leave them for you when you’ve got a moment?”

“Now works for me,” Claire said. “Macy, what about your group?”

“We could all use a little break, I think,” Macy said.

For the next few minutes, String Fever was busy with the sound of chatter as everyone filled their plates. Peyton didn’t take a piece, Charlotte noticed with concern, and wondered again if the girl was feeling ill.

“I’ll have just a sliver of the blackberry,” Charlotte said to Dermot. “No whipped cream.”

She had learned she could eat anything in moderation, as long as she didn’t overindulge. Another lesson of the past eighteen months was that she stuck to her new healthy eating efforts much better if she didn’t deprive herself of anything she really craved and Pop’s pie was close to the top of her list.

“Mmm. Dermot. This is fantastic. How do you always get that crust so perfect every time?” Angie asked.

He and Alex’s oldest sister talked for a few moments about high-quality ingredients and dough temperatures.

When their conversation lapsed, Katherine finally spoke to Pop. “How is Dylan doing after his surgery in Denver?”

He glanced at her, eyes wide. “How did you know about that?”

She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “I bumped into him at the grocery store.”

“And he told you he had a procedure?” Dermot looked shocked and Charlotte didn’t blame him. Dylan was notoriously closemouthed, even with his family.

“He didn’t want to, but I can be...persuasive.”

For the life of her, Charlotte couldn’t figure out why Katherine didn’t turn her skills of persuasion to convincing Pop they should take their relationship a step further.

“I noticed he was favoring the prosthetic,” she went on. “He was trying to lift a big bag of dog food, and I stepped in to help him.”

Oh, Charlotte would bet Dylan loved that, having the very elegant city council member—and senior citizen—help him with his dog food.

Charlotte had been trying to back off and give her brother space since his return from Denver but perhaps she needed to take a drive up Snowflake Canyon after they finished here to check on him.

“He’s holding up,” Dermot said. “Of course, it’s not been easy for him but he’s tough. He’s a Caine, isn’t he?”

Charlotte’s mouth tightened. She adored her father but he sometimes saw what he wanted to see. He hadn’t seen anything wrong with making a thirteen-year-old girl a four-scoop ice cream sundae after school or a big batch of buttered popcorn every time they watched a movie. To him, seeing her eat a hearty meal had meant he was doing his job as a parent.

She wondered if he really couldn’t see how Dylan spent his days drinking and feeling sorry for himself.

“Well, I suppose I’ve done my duty to the lovely beaders of Hope’s Crossing and should be on my way.”

“Thanks a million for the pie. It was divine,” Claire said. She got up and kissed Dermot’s cheek, earning a blush.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. Next time you get the craving, come into the café. I’ll make sure we’ve always got a slice of blackberry just for you.”

He said his goodbyes to everyone and hugged Charlotte. She smelled the familiar scent of Old Spice and his particular kind of laundry soap and felt a wave of love for her father, who had done his best after raising six sons to comfort a grieving daughter the best way he knew how.

“The pie was a nice touch,” she whispered in his ear. “Maybe next time, you should think about flowers. She’s particularly fond of white roses.”

“Oh, hush,” he said with another stern look, then picked up his pie tins and the leftover paper plates he’d brought along and headed out of the bead store.

“Well, that was a fun break,” Angie said. “But I’m afraid I’m never going to finish this tonight if I don’t hurry.”

They all returned to their beading. About a half hour after Pop left, Charlotte was nearly done with her necklace and was holding it up to show Claire her progress when she heard Peyton ask where the bathroom was.

“Through that door, on the other side of the office,” Macy told her.

“Thanks,” Peyton said.

Something was wrong, Charlotte thought with concern as the girl walked past their table. She reached a hand out, intending to touch her arm and ask if she was ill, but before she could make contact, Peyton’s steps faltered, her eyes rolled back in her head and she toppled to the floor.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I
T
WAS
A
strange, surreal moment. Time seemed to grind to a halt and nobody moved for perhaps half a second, then Charlotte slid her chair back so hard it toppled over. She rushed to Peyton, whose eyes were now closed, long lashes fanning her cheeks.

“Peyton? Honey, are you okay?”

It was one of those lame questions people asked in moments of crisis. The girl was obviously
so
not okay. She was pale and appeared limp and lifeless, though Charlotte could see the rise and fall of her thin chest under her T-shirt.

She felt paralyzed by shock.

“What happened?” Claire asked. “Do I need to call the paramedics?”

Charlotte’s medical background was limited to the Red Cross babysitting class she took in junior high school. Panicked fear and a vast sense of inadequacy overwhelmed her at the sight of the pale, deathly still girl on the ground. What should they do?

“Let’s check out the situation first.”

Relief surged through her at Evie’s calm voice taking charge of the situation. Evie would know what to do. She
did
have a medical background, had spent years in California as a rehab therapist.

Evie knelt beside her and picked up Peyton’s hand to feel her pulse. “Steady,” she murmured. “A little slow but steady.”

“What happened?” Charlotte asked. “She was fine one moment, the next she just...fell.”

“She apparently passed out,” Evie said. “The question is, why. Peyton, can you hear me? Peyton? Look. She’s starting to come around.”

Peyton’s lashes started to flutter and after a moment, she opened her eyes all the way. Her brow furrowed as she took in the ring of faces around her. She didn’t seem to know why everyone was huddled around her.

“What...what happened?” she asked, a little color beginning to seep into her cheeks.

“Good question,” Charlotte said, striving for calm. “You passed out, my dear.”

“I...fainted? Oh.” She scrambled to sit up but seemed too light-headed.

“Just wait for a moment, until you catch your bearings,” Evie said.

The girl looked more embarrassed than concerned to find herself flat on the ground, which Charlotte thought an odd reaction.

“I’ll be okay in a minute,” she said. “Could I have a drink of water?”

“Of course,” Claire said quickly. She hurried to the water cooler she had recently installed for her employees and customers.

She brought a cup to Peyton, who drank it slowly. When the girl lowered the cup, she gave a hesitant smile.

“I should be okay. Usually, I only need a minute or two to sit down and catch my breath and then I’m fine.”

“Usually?”
Charlotte seized on the word. “Has this happened before?”

“A few times. It’s no big deal.”

“I noticed you didn’t have any pie. When was the last time you ate anything?” Evie asked.

A curiously guilty expression crossed Peyton’s thin features. “I don’t know. I had some toast for breakfast, I think. Oh, and some crackers for lunch.”

A terrible suspicion grabbed hold of Charlotte’s mind and wouldn’t let go.

“You probably need something to eat,” Evie said.

“I’ve got a protein bar,” Charlotte offered. She grabbed her purse off the back of her chair and rifled through, grateful she never went anywhere without something to snack on. She had learned early that her worst binges came when her blood sugar dipped.

She handed the bar over, and Peyton nibbled one corner of it then closed the wrapper again. Charlotte studied her, trying to think if she had ever seen her eat anything. She remembered that day at the café, right after Spence and his daughter had moved to Hope’s Crossing. Peyton had eaten a big hamburger—and then had gone into the bathroom and thrown up, claiming illness.

She was so very skinny. And when they had gone on a bike ride, she had been too weak to go very far. That must have been why she turned back.

Charlotte had worried about the girl’s weight but had assumed she took after her supermodel mother’s angular shape. She had never considered Peyton might have an eating disorder.

She had no proof now, she reminded herself. Only speculation and worry.

Nevertheless, she pulled her phone out. “What’s your dad’s cell number?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

Horror sent more color seeping into Peyton’s features. “Why do you need that? He doesn’t need to hear about this. I just fell down.”

“You didn’t fall down,” Evie corrected gently. “You passed out. And it sounds like this isn’t the first time, is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Probably not. But whatever the reason, you really need to be checked out by a doctor. Your dad needs to know about this.”

She looked around at the other girls, who were watching her with worried eyes. Tears filled Peyton’s eyes and she scrubbed at them sharply. “Don’t call him! This is so stupid. I’m fine now. See?”

She rose a little unsteadily and walked to the worktable and back. All of them could see she was shaky and weak.

“I’m sorry, Peyton. I am,” Charlotte said. “But your dad has to know. He can then make the decision about taking you to a doctor. What’s his number?”

She remained stubbornly quiet. Charlotte was thinking she would just call the recreation center and have them track him down when Taryn handed her a phone.

“This is Peyton’s phone. She left it on the table. Her dad’s number is probably in there.”

“This is stupid! Oh, I hate it here. Why can’t you all just leave me alone?” Peyton said. She sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. Charlotte wanted to pull her into her arms but Macy and Taryn and the other girls stepped in before she could.

She had a feeling Peyton would appreciate comfort from her peers more than Charlotte anyway right now. She grabbed Peyton’s phone and took it to Claire’s office. She quickly found Spence’s number and made the call.

He answered after three rings. “Hi, hon. How’s the bead class? Are you ready for me to come get you?”

She shoved down the heat fluttering through her at his voice. “This isn’t Peyton. It’s Charlotte. I’m using her phone.”

“Charlotte! I was just thinking about you. What a surprise.” And not an unwelcome one, she could tell by the warm tone of his voice.

She wanted to just close her eyes and savor that, but she pushed it away, focusing on what was far more important right now.

“I’m at the bead store, Spence. With Peyton. She’s had an...incident.”

He paused for only a heartbeat. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing but...she just passed out. She was unconscious for maybe a minute, maybe two.”

Time had been such a blur in the craziness of the moment, she really wasn’t sure.

“She fainted? Seriously? She’s okay now, though, isn’t she?”

He didn’t seem to grasp this could be a major issue. She hoped she was wrong but all the signs seemed to point otherwise.

“She’s awake and she’s talking. She’s angry that I’m calling you.”

“Big surprise there.”

“She wants to sweep it under the rug, Spence. I think she doesn’t want you to worry about her.”

“But you think I need to be worrying,” he guessed astutely.

She sighed. “When she woke up, she didn’t seem at all shocked to find she had passed out. She says it has happened before.”

His voice sharpened. “What? When? She’s never said a word!”

“She didn’t elaborate, only said she had passed out a few other times but was usually fine after a moment or two.”

“What the hell? Why wouldn’t she think her father might want to know she’s toppling at the drop of a hat?”

The hurt in his voice made her ache for him and their complicated relationship—and for the further complications she was very much afraid were in store.

“Spence. I have to ask. I want you to think about this carefully. Is there any chance Peyton might have an...eating disorder?”

Her words were met by a vast, awkward silence. “Why would you ask that?” he finally asked.

“I’ve just rarely seen her eat much more than a bite or two.”

“She has a small frame and a small appetite to go with it,” he answered, a hint of defensiveness in his words and his tone. “She eats, though. Once in a while, she eats like a horse. You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”

“The one time I’ve seen her eat more than a smidgen of food was that night at the café. And then she immediately went into the bathroom and threw up.”

“You think she’s throwing up her food? Deliberately
starving
herself?”

“I have no idea. I doubt she would talk to me, and I’m not at all an expert anyway,” she answered.

“No. You’re not.”

The words stung like a slap, and she wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. No. Not when a young girl’s physical and mental health might be at stake.

“My friend Evie Thorne is here. She’s a physical therapist, not a doctor, but she seems to think the fainting spells are concern enough that Peyton really should see a physician.”

He was silent again for a long moment. “Okay. Okay. Whatever I need to do. I have no idea of any doctors around here but I’ll figure something out.”

“My general practitioner is wonderful. Susannah Harris. I’ve been going to her forever. I can call her clinic, see if she might be able to squeeze in Peyton tonight.”

It was five-thirty, almost past office hours, but she knew Susannah would agree to see the girl, given the circumstances.

“I’m leaving the rec center right now. Give me fifteen minutes to make it down the canyon.”

“Okay.”

“Charlotte. Thank you for worrying about her.”

“I really hope I’m wrong, Spence. I hope this is an anomaly. Maybe she’s just got a virus or her blood sugar dipped or something.”

“I’m going to hang on to that for now.”

He hung up and she used her own phone to quickly call Susannah’s office. When she explained the situation, Susannah’s receptionist—a woman who had once dated her brother Jamie, as had half the women in town—patched her through to the doctor immediately.

Charlotte quickly went through the situation with the doctor. “I don’t want to presuppose you toward any particular diagnosis, but can I share my concern?”

“Of course,” Susannah said.

“I barely know the girl, really, so I might be completely off base here.”

“Charlotte, just tell me your thoughts.”

“She’s painfully thin. I’ve rarely seen her eat anything and, when she does, it’s either a very small amount or it’s far more than a girl her age ought to need. Feast or famine, I guess you could say.”

“You think she has an eating disorder.”

“I don’t know. It worries me.”

“That’s understandable, given your own issues with food. I should tell you, there could be any number of reasons for syncope—that’s the medical term for fainting—in a young girl. Hypoglycemia, anemia. At the nasty end of the spectrum would be a cardiac issue. We can look at everything when I examine her.”

“Thanks, Susannah. I owe you.”

“A lovely box of that almond toffee fudge I love would probably cover it.”

“Done,” she said promptly and hung up.

When she walked back out, she saw the others had tried to return to some level of normalcy. Everyone was back at her table, though she intercepted several solicitous looks toward Peyton.

She handed Peyton her cell phone. The girl pocketed it and gave Charlotte a wary, resigned look that was blessedly free of resentment.

“Did you call him?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s on his way from the recreation center. He’s taking you to be seen by a doctor in town. Her name is Susannah Harris and she’s very nice.”

“I don’t need a doctor!” she said again, hands clenched on the pliers she had been using to close a jump ring. “Why is everybody making such a big deal? I just fainted.”

“You’ll like Dr. Harris,” Taryn said. “She’s pretty awesome.”

“Really?”

If the very cool Taryn Thorne gave someone the stamp of approval, apparently that was enough for Peyton.

“Yeah. That’s who I go to for most of my follow-up stuff now, though I still have a neurologist in Denver.”

“Why do you have to go to a neurologist?” Peyton asked, curious.

“That’s a super long story,” Taryn said. “I’ll tell you about it while we wait for your dad. If we hurry, you can finish that cool bracelet you were working on.”

“If you want,” Charlotte offered, “I can make some matching earrings, then you can wear everything to the doctor’s office.”

“Thanks,” Peyton said. She gave a tiny tentative smile of gratitude, but it was enough for Charlotte.

* * *

W
HEN
S
PENCE
PUSHED
open the door to the bead store, he was met with an immediate assault to his senses. Color and light, the soft murmur of female voices, awash in mingled feminine scents of lavender and vanilla. Under other circumstances he might have found it appealing in a funny sort of way but right now he couldn’t think of anything but his daughter.

His gaze found her instantly, her dark-haired head bent toward a silky golden-blond head he recognized as Charlotte’s. Something tugged inside him at seeing them together. It just felt...right, in a way he couldn’t have explained.

Nobody noticed him until the door closed behind him and chimes rippled through the room.

About ten female faces turned toward him but he barely registered anyone else except Peyton and Charlotte.

His baby girl looked a little pale but otherwise normal. Why the hell had she fainted?

“Oh. You’re here.” Charlotte was the first to speak. “That was fast. Hang on. Can you give us one quick minute? We’re almost done.”

He didn’t quite know how to respond to that, especially after he had quite possibly broken several traffic laws in order to rush here as fast as he could.

“Never get in the way of a girl and her beads.” Katherine Thorne stood up and he dutifully kissed her cheek. He had hung out with her son, Brodie, a bit back in the day, though Brodie had been a killer skier and Spence could rarely afford a lift ticket unless somebody else paid for it.