Page 15 of Sweet Trouble
“Oh no,” she murmured.
Of course she had known that snow was inevitable in the hills of Vermont. But she had been hoping the worst of it would hold off until January. From what she could see out the window, there seemed to be at least a few inches of the white stuff on the ground already, and it was still falling.
It’s fine,she told herself.I have time to shovel.
But she wasn’t really sure she did have time. The driveway was long, and she still had to get the girls ready for their day.
She headed to the door and began bundling up. Snow shoveling meant she wanted a vest with a coat on top, a scarf, a hat, and then waterproof gloves and boots.
She was completely outfitted when she remembered that Grampy kept the shovels in the basement. He said it was easier to reach the basement than the shed in the backyard when there was deep snow.
So she shuffled awkwardly in her bundled condition back through the house, turning sideways to navigate the narrow cellar steps with the wooden shelves of canned goods on one side.
By the time she got back up with the good shovel, she had begun to sweat.
At least it’s a break from feeling cold.
She headed out the front door, enjoying the blast of snowy air that hit her the moment she stepped outside.
The open porch wasn’t too snowy, which was a little odd, but a good thing.
It wasn’t until she reached the steps that she realized what was really going on.
Someone had already shoveled.
There was a perfect path down the center of the steps, and the walkway to the driveway was cleared. So was the front part of the driveway, wrapping around toward the rear.
She could just hear the sound of a shovel scraping the gravel out back, and she panicked at the thought of her grandfather doing this much work by himself.
The worst part was that she was pretty sure he wouldn’t even be out here if it wasn’t for her. He and Gram probably just stayed home during bigsnows these days. He was only doing this because Jillian and the kids needed to get out for school. If he got hurt, it would be her fault.
She shuffle-ran down the driveway, her heart in her mouth. This was a heavy snow, maybe dangerously heavy for an old man’s heart.
She arrived in seconds to find a bundled-up figure bent over near her car, working away.
“What are you doing?”she panted in relief and frustration.“This is exactly what I’m here for…”
But she swallowed the rest of her words as the man straightened up, bigger and taller than Grampy had ever been.
“Hey,” the big figure called back to her in a familiar voice.
“Tripp?” she said in surprise.
He strode over with a friendly expression on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I thought you were my grandfather.”
“No, I’m me,” he replied with his crooked smile.
She felt a wave of warmth in her chest, like she was standing on a beach in the tropics instead of her grandparents’ snowy driveway.
“Well… thank you,” she managed. “This was so kind of you.”
“I’m just right up the street,” he said, shrugging. “It’s easy enough to finish up at my parents’ place and just keep going. I’ve got a snowplow on my truck for the driveway.”
She looked past him to the truck with the plowattachment that she hadn’t even noticed in her worried state.
That would certainly make the driveway easier, but he had still shoveled the porches and walkways, and dug out the cars all by hand.
