Covet thy Neighbor by Denise Carbo

Author:Denise Carbo [Denise Carbo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Denise Carbo
Published: 2020-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

A thin, white, layer of frost covers the ground. The weather changed seemingly overnight as it’s prone to do here in New Hampshire. At least we weren’t trudging through a foot of snow on Halloween—which has happened before. Barely November, but it’s time to drag out the kids’ winter coats, boots, gloves, and hats. Hopefully, they’ll still fit at least until after Christmas. If I can wait that long, then the stores will start putting the winter gear on sale to make room for spring lines.

“Mom?” Timmy calls from upstairs. “I don’t feel good.”

Uh oh. I place my mug of coffee on the counter by the kitchen sink and head upstairs. It can’t be an overdose of Halloween candy. I’ve been judiciously handing those out—unless they found the stash.

Timmy huddles in his bed with the covers wrapped around him and a tired pout on his face. I glance over at the twin bed on the opposite side of the room. Tommy is still fast asleep.

I walk over and put the back of my hand against his forehead. He’s hot.

“Come on, bud.” I free him from the covers and wrap my arm around him to guide him into my room. If I can separate them early enough, maybe Tommy won’t get whatever Timmy has. Wishful thinking most likely, but I have to try. “Climb into my bed. I’ll get the thermometer and be right back.”

He lays down on my pillow and I cover him up, brushing his hair off his forehead. I grab the thermometer out of the bathroom and confirm his fever.

I lie down behind him and wrap my arms around him. “Is it your tummy?”

He nods.

I kiss him on the back of his head. “Be right back.” I jog downstairs to get a bowl in case his tummy launches a full-scale rebellion.

Obviously, he can’t go to school. Which means I need to decide what to do about work. I can’t ask my mom. She works mornings at the bank. Besides, I would hate to expose her and possibly Dad to something contagious. I really wish Oli was still here, but he left on Sunday to go back to Boston.

Which means I have to call Franny—unless Ryan could pitch in? No, I can’t do that. I would expose potentially hundreds of customers to whatever Timmy has.

I return with the bowl and settle back in behind him.

“Mom!”

Uh oh, please don’t let Tommy be sick too. I scoot off the bed and hurry to his room. He’s sitting up holding his stomach. Tears fill his eyes and he turns white.

I run back to my room, grab the bowl, and rush back to his room. He bends over just as I shove the bowl under his face and empties the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Once he’s done, I carry it to the bathroom to dispose of it, clean it, and get a wet washcloth for him.

He’s lying down. “Where’s Timmy?”

“In my bed. He doesn’t feel good either.”

“Can I go in there too?”

I nod and help him up.

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