Brad didn't have time to dwell on the text he received from Colin earlier that morning, the one saying the doctor had overslept and wouldn't be coming to breakfast. He just grimaced, feeling a bit disappointed that he wouldn't get to see the doctor's cute face that morning.
But he quickly pushed that thought out of his head. He needed to focus on what really mattered—the here and now, and the work that was waiting for him. Yesterday, Lipski had to go to the school about Olivia, so he hadn't been able to help Sally much at the little restaurant. And the restaurant, well, it was practically screaming for a man's hand.
Doc isn't coming to breakfast? Fine. That just means Brad has more time to focus on the restaurant. As for the doctor…
Don't think about it, he told himself with frustration.
And he did manage to not think about it as he drove to work, or when he took out the trash from yesterday, or even while cleaning the clogged pipes in the sink. When he threw himself into his work, he did it completely.
He wouldn't have even known he'd sighed if it hadn't been for Aunt Sally.
"What's with the sighing?" she asked. "Is the sink that bad?"
The older woman was wiping her hands with a dish towel, looking at him with concern. A fish was sizzling away in the pan, filling the kitchen with the familiar scent of hot oil and, well, fish. The first customers were already waiting, hungry.
Brad gave Aunt Sally a crooked smile as he twisted the sink pipe, a distinct, unpleasant smell drifting up.
"It'll live," he explained. "Just needs cleaning. Too much grease, so it got clogged."
She nodded, her eyes still fixed on him.
"Now do you know why I hired you?"
"Because with me around, you don't have to call a plumber, an electrician, a builder, or kitchen help separately?"
"And a waiter," she added firmly. "Don't forget you'll be serving at the table too."
"In that case, maybe I should be cooking too," he shot her a teasing look.
"Oh? What, you offering? You know how to cook, huh?"
"The girls don't complain," he grinned.
"Well, well, I wonder who cooks more in your house—you or Angela?"
"We share the duties equally," he shrugged, not stopping his work on the pipes. "And for Angela, cooking's a passion."
"She's a resourceful girl," Aunt Sally nodded approvingly. "She'll make a good wife someday."
Like her mother, Brad thought but didn't say anything. No need to bring up the dead. The truth was, Angela was damn similar to her mother in interests and potential, just as Olivia was like her father.
"You know, nowadays girls don't dream about getting married?" Brad remarked, cleaning the sink pipe.
Aunt Sally huffed, like an offended cat.
"I don't understand the younger generation," she muttered. "People are herd animals, loneliness isn't good for them. Lonely people perish. Only together can we face hardships. Though," she added with more distaste, "people nowadays are so selfish they wouldn't know how to give to someone else. But not Angela. And not Olivia. They've got the blood of the Lipskis in them."
Hm, Brad thought, smiling faintly. He felt Aunt Sally's gaze on him. He didn't comment on her words, though. Instead, he quickly screwed the clean pipe back in place.
"Done," he said, rising from the floor. To confirm, he turned on the faucet, and water flowed smoothly from the sink. "What now?"
"Now, you take care of this." Aunt Sally pointed to a sack of potatoes, and Brad knew that his great adventure as a potato peeler was just beginning.
"French fries don't make themselves," he shrugged, washed his hands, and got to work.
***
"My son is what he is now because of the Lipskis."
Jonathan Anders' words wouldn't leave Colin, not even for a second.
The moment the man had said goodbye and left, the doctor picked up Miles' medical chart again. "Head trauma caused by blunt force impact," it said. That told him a lot, but not enough. Such injuries came from falls, collisions, and... blunt force blows, like from a baseball bat. There could be many causes, but none of them seemed natural. A simple fall wouldn't cause that kind of damage. It had to involve force, speed, or both.
Two years ago. This had happened two years ago—wasn't that around the same time Brad had started looking after his nieces? So if Joseph Lipski was the one who had brought Miles Anders to such a state, did that mean he was the father of the girls?
Had Brad mentioned his brother's name? Damn it, Colin hadn't paid enough attention to that detail.
"Doctor Stone…" Stacy's red head poked into his office. Colin looked up at her. Was it his imagination, or did the girl look a bit embarrassed?
"Another patient?"
"No. We had fewer people today, so you've got an hour for lunch."
"An hour?" He raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"I'll make it longer next time…"
"No, no, an hour is... definitely plenty."
Back at his old job, if he got lucky, he'd manage to grab twenty minutes to dash to the cafeteria. Usually he had just enough time for a quick sandwich.
"If you want, I could show you a great little spot. It doesn't look the best, but most of the locals grew up on that food. It's tasty, and the prices are for locals, not tourists... But if you'd prefer somewhere fancier, I can show you that too," she added quickly.
"I've heard of a rule: eat where the locals eat. I'll gladly give it a try."
"Great! I'll drive you!"
"Should we eat together?" he suggested. "You have to eat too."
Stacy blushed.
"Of course!"
"I'll be ready in a minute," he said, standing up. Before logging off and turning off the computer, he glanced again at Miles' medical records. His eyes scanned the section on his condition once more.
"Everything alright, Doctor Stone?"
He jumped, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.
"What? Why do you ask?"
She looked a little awkward.
That's when Colin remembered—Stacy was close to Brad. She must know something about this situation.
"You're friends with Brad Lipski," he said. "Jonathan Anders and the Lipskis…"
She stood in the doorway, letting out a sigh.
"It's no secret," she admitted, "but it's a bit of an unpleasant topic…"
He didn't want to press her, and maybe he shouldn't, but…
"Anders said Joseph Lipski is the reason his son is in this state. Is that true? Is Joseph the father of the girls?"
"Yes, Joseph is Olivia and Angela's father. Brad's older brother. And yes, it's true; he caused Miles' injuries. But it was a tragic accident," she added fervently.
Colin remembered the scene in front of the supermarket, the tension between the men and the crowd. No one intervened, everyone just waited. For what? For blood to spill?
He shuddered.
No, it wasn't about blood. There hadn't been bloodlust or a desire for entertainment in the onlookers. It had been something else, a heavy tension, as if they were all preoccupied with something.
"The two families hate each other, don't they?"
"Yes," she admitted with resignation, or maybe deep sadness. "It's…"
"A difficult topic," he finished, seeing that Stacy really didn't want to talk about it.
"A great tragedy for our town," she added. "I'm sorry, but…"
"It's fine, you don't have to talk about it," he said, hanging his lab coat on the hook. "Let's not ruin our appetites. Let's go to lunch."
"Let's go," she agreed enthusiastically, with clear relief. She grabbed her handbag and practically ran out of the clinic, as if she were trying to escape Colin, or at least the topic he'd brought up.
So, he wouldn't ask her again, he decided. Yet, in his stomach and his heart, he felt an uneasy knot. He really wanted to know what had happened between the Lipskis and the Anders family, especially with Miles in a coma and Joseph absent from his daughters' lives.