When Eli saw Nettie again, she sat in a wicker wheel chair in a voluminous while nightgown, with one of the sleeves cut off at the elbow to accommodate her splint, which was bound up to her chest with a crisp white sling. Over that, she wore a flannel robe that Eli didn't recognize.
The doctor repeated his instructions to Eli, aspirin, waking once every two hours to check on the concussion, and at least two days bedrest. Eli nodded, but Nettie frowned.
"What about the shop?" she fretted. "Missing one day was bad enough, but people want their newspapers. I can't stay in bed for two more days."
"You can, and you will, if I have to tie you down." Much as he liked the Websters, Eli was damned sure going to see to it that she followed the doctor's orders. "We'll sort something out." Surely i
