Farraway Mist ?A Wattpad featured story?

Chapter 6: An Illuminating Afternoon

Scout spent the day in George's bed, listening to the comings and goings of various workmen as they presumably began work on the broken doorjamb and door of her bedroom. George wouldn't let her out of his bed, threatening to fire her if she stirred from it. She didn't know him well enough to tell if he was serious or not, but figured she'd better not tempt fate. She was still feeling a little wobbly, anyway, and was more than happy to stay in his comfortable bed, the comforter drawn up around her knees, though she did feel a little strange to have him waiting on her, bringing her food and tea all day long.

"I can at least go downstairs to eat," she protested when he appeared at her bedside with a tray laden with lunch things in the early afternoon.

"Nah, better for you to just stay put this first day," he said with a shrug. "I'm not doing anything anyway, and the dogs are getting a lot of exercise following me up and down the stairs hoping something falls off the tray, so everyone wins, right, guys?" He turned to Jess and Bandit, who were indeed watching their master and the contents of the tray he carried very attentively.

"Well, wait a sec, aren't you going to stay and eat with me?" Scout asked when George turned to leave.

"I only brought enough for you, though," George said.

Scout gestured to the tray. "I can't possibly eat all this myself," she said. "Please. Or I really am going to have to share with the dogs."

George looked from her to the tray, then back at her, finally shrugging. "Okay," he acquiesced, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

Scout picked up half the sandwich, motioning to the other half, which George picked up, and they ate as they chatted.

"So, what do you do around here by yourself all day?" Scout asked.

George shrugged again.

"I read a lot. I write music, watch movies, go for walks with the dogs, play golf--"

"There's a golf course?" Scout asked.

"Well, it's technically a 'links'," George replied. "Something to do with being next to the sea, I believe, but don't ask me what the difference is," he continued with a smile. "It's part of Farraway Mist, I mean it's private, I own it. Why, do you play?"

Scout nodded. "I come from three generations of golfers. My cousins belong to the same golf club as the Kennedys, even."

George raised his eyebrows. "Impressive."

Scout shrugged dismissively as she fed the crust of her bread to the dogs, breaking it in half so each would get a piece and not feel slighted, and George was glad he didn't have to explain to her why this was how it was done. "Yeah, sports and stuff was always really important to my family. Certain kinds of sports, I mean. Like tennis, skiing, golf, of course." She rolled her eyes. "My brother Chip was never very athletic, not like the rest of us, you know? So sometimes Susan, Bobby, and I would try to not be as good as we were, so the fact that Chipper sucked so bad wouldn't show? And our dad would figure out what we were doing and he'd get so mad at us." Scout shook her head, smiling at the memory.

"Kids!" she said in a gruff imitiation of her father, George assumed. "You're only making Chip weaker when you aid and abet him like that! Instead of covering for him, why don't you help him improve? Work with him?" She looked at George. "But you know how some people just aren't coordinated? They just don't get it?"

George nodded.

"Well, that's Chip. If he remembered to swing the racket, he forgot to move his feet. If he remembered to dip his elbow, he forgot to pivot or whatever. And he was afraid of the ball. And he didn't like to go fast, so forget skiing. Poor guy. I had to ski down the slope holding on to him in Stowe one time, because he couldn't come down by himself. And once, when we were out riding, he lost his nerve because the horse he was on was a little too spirited, and he had to dismount and wait while I jumped both of our horses over this fallen tree because he just couldn't."