Read That Certain Summer for Free Online

telltale flush creeping across her cheeks. “Okay.”
    Although she gave the effort her all, the man across from her did the lion’s share of lifting, based on the impressive bulge of muscles below the sleeves of his T-shirt.
    Once Margaret was on her feet, he gave Val an engaging grin. “Mission accomplished.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œNot a problem.” He turned his attention to her mother and held out his hand. “Margaret, I’m David Phelps. I’ll be working with you for the next few weeks.”
    â€œHow do you do?” Margaret took his hand. “This is my daughter, Val.”
    The man smiled at her again. “Nice to meet you. Will you be staying for the session?”
    â€œI can, but I’d hoped to do some grocery shopping.”
    â€œThere’s plenty of food at the house.” Margaret scowled at her over the top of her glasses.
    â€œI want to pick up a few other things.”
    â€œNo problem. Margaret and I will be fine by ourselves. Right, Margaret?” The man fixed his charming smile on the older woman.
    Soft color suffused her mother’s cheeks and she patted her hair. “Yes, I expect we will. You go along, Val. I can see I’m in good hands.”
    Reprieved!
    She grabbed her purse. “I’ll be back in an hour, if that’s okay.”
    â€œThat will be fine.” David took her mother’s arm. “Once Margaret and I are finished, I’d like to spend a few minutes with both of you to go over her therapy routine.” He directed his next question to Margaret. “Do you have a walker?”
    â€œNo. I’m not an invalid. I just have this cane—and not for very long, I hope.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit. If I had more patients like you, I’d be out of a job.”
    Preen was the word that came to mind as Val watched her mother flutter her eyes at David.
    Amazing.
    Chalk one up for the therapist’s boy-next-door good looks and easy charm.
    â€œYou run along.” Margaret gave a regal, dismissive wave with her good hand. “We’ll see you later.”
    Val was out the door before her mother had a chance to have second thoughts.
    And she took full advantage of her hour break. She downed a container of yogurt as she waited in the checkout lane, indulged in a latte at the coffee shop next door to the grocery store, and picked up enough fresh fruit, vegetables, whole-grain bread, and lean meat to last until the weekend.
    By the time she returned to the therapy center with five minutes to spare, she was feeling much more relaxed.
    No sooner had she settled in with a magazine, however, than David summoned her from the door of the waiting room.
    â€œHow did it go?” Val edged past as he moved aside to let her precede him.
    The man had nice manners.
    â€œWe had a productive session. Your mother was very cooperative, and she has a lot of spunk.”
    Val could think of many adjectives to describe her mother. “Cooperative” and “spunky” weren’t among them.
    â€œMom can be pretty determined about going after what she wants.” It was the kindest thing she could come up with short of lying.
    â€œThat’s a good quality—under these circumstances, at least.” He closed the door behind him.
    â€œTrue. But to be honest, I’m a little surprised. I almost had to drag her here.”
    â€œA lot of patients feel that way. Part of our job is to help them see the value of therapy, persuade them it will speed up their recovery.”
    That argument might work with most people, but she was surprised it had swayed her mother. Speeding up her recovery meant less dependency. It meant her daughters wouldn’t have to care for her with quite the same level of attention—and Margaret liked to be taken care of, sick or well. Why else would she have sold the car twenty years ago, after Dad died? She could have learned to drive, become more independent.