“Liar!” Charlotte came up behind me in full indignant glory, not one bit scared of this stranger. “This is Uncle Felix’s cabin. His grandpa built it and everything. You’re a burglar!”
“No, I’m not.” The man tried to stand, then abruptly sat back down before digging in his coat pocket. “I swear. I’ve got keys. I didn’t break in.”
He held up a ring with three keys on it. And a familiar fob, a garish cat made out of glittery beads.
“F—” I caught myself. The girls were still wide-eyed and listening intently to every word of this exchange. “Is this Tim’s idea of a joke? He can’t handle that he didn’t win—”
“No, I won,” the man corrected me. Infuriatingly, he had a nice voice, deep and patient, not angry or mean. Honestly, his tone was a lot calmer than mine. “At a private poker party last week. This Tim dude had paperwork and keys for me and everything.”
“He was supposed to drop off the keys for me weeks ago. Tim’s my ex-husband, and he tried to get this place in the divorce settlement, but the court awarded it to me. It’s been in my family decades now.”
“You don’t say.” He groaned as he shifted on the floor. “F—fudge. I knew there was a chance this might be a hoax because who the h—heck bets an entire piece of property, but he had paperwork that looked pretty damn legal.”
I appreciated the effort he was making to not curse in front of the girls. And his calm demeanor didn’t hurt either. “Tim’s a former paralegal turned personal chef. I don’t doubt that he handed you something, but this place is legally mine, not his to give away.”
“He didn’t give it away. I won it.” The guy might be calm, but he was also stubborn. “And I can show you the papers if I can figure out how to put weight on my ankle here.”
“You’re hurt!” Charlotte’s eyes went even wider. “Uncle Felix, you have to fix him.”
Oh no, I don’t. Strange guy claiming ownership of my cabin? I wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic.
“How badly are you hurt?” I asked, pulling out my phone. If I could make this someone else’s problem, so much the better. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“Not that bad.” Grimacing, he tried again to stand and this time succeeded by leaning heavily on the banister. “Definitely not ambulance bad. Twisted my ankle. Doubt it’s broken. Been there, done that, and this isn’t as sharp a pain.”
“He’s bleeding.” Madeline wrinkled her nose and pointed at the guy’s temple, which had a thin line of blood dripping toward his ear.
“Am I?” He touched his head and frowned as his fingers came away red.
“I’ll get the kit,” Charlotte announced, all self-important, turning back to the porch. “Don’t worry. Even if you are a burglar, Uncle Felix will fix you up. He’s a doctor.”
Thank you, Charlotte, for sharing that little tidbit. I sighed as she headed back to the car. She was obsessed with all things medical, and it was easier to let her fetch my first-aid kit than waste time trying to talk her out of it.
“Is he gonna die?” Madeline’s voice wavered.
“No one is dying.” I kept my voice stern, like that could prevent this mess of a situation from getting any worse. Charlotte returned with my kit in short order, shaking the snow from her curly hair. “Thank you, Charlotte. Now let’s have a look at your head, Mister...”
“I’m Calder. Calder Euler. And I’m a chief in the navy. ID is in the car too, but I’m not a criminal.”
“No, that would be Tim,” I muttered under my breath, then said louder, “What is a naval chief doing playing high-stakes poker? Surely there’s some regulations about that.”
He shrugged, his eyes taking on a sheepish cast. “There’s some guidelines. No gambling in uniform, no gambling on base, no gaming with subordinates, that sort of thing. And it’s a hobby, not a sideline for me. I was there to have fun, ran into a bit of luck, and wasn’t about to turn down a major score.”
“Of course not.” I truly did not care for this Calder one bit, but I also couldn’t exactly leave him over there bleeding with both girls watching on. Opening the kit, I took out a pair of disposable gloves and approached him. “Let me see how deep the wound is. Do you feel foggy? Light-headed at all?”
“I’m fine.” He winced as I reached for his head. Of course he’d have to be tall, and I wasn’t about to ask him to stoop down for me, so I tried to subtly pull myself up taller.
“I’m going to look anyway.” I used my patient doctor tone even if I wasn’t feeling soothing in the least.
“What I am is confused as to how the he—heck this is happening because I’m not a gullible guy, but my brain’s not foggy. I’ve had a concussion recently. None of those symptoms here. Didn’t even pass out.”
“You had a recent head trauma severe enough to lose consciousness, and you hit your head just now?” My medical training pushed past all my anger at Tim and Calder both. “Maybe we need that ambulance after all.”
“I didn’t hit my head. Scraped my temple maybe. Trust me, I’ve had enough MRIs and other tests to know the difference.”
“Scraping hard enough to draw blood is still worrisome under the circumstances. You could have taken a harder blow than you think.” I examined the wound, which did seem to be largely superficial, no swelling and not deep enough to warrant stitches. “I’d advise a call to your neurologist, simply to be safe. I know it’s about to be the weekend, but they might want you to come in Monday or something.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Calder’s tone suggested he’d do no such thing. “I’ll make that my second call after I find a lawyer to try to straighten out this ownership thing.”
Excellent. All my week from hell needed was another costly legal battle. Apparently Calder wasn’t simply going to take my word that this was my place, not that I could fault him on that. I’d already admitted to a contentious divorce, and for all he knew, I was the liar, not Tim.
“I’ll get you my contact information.” I kept my tone curt but professional. Using an alcohol wipe from the kit, I quickly cleansed the wound and applied a small bandage. “There. Now what about your foot?”
“I’m ninety percent certain it’s a nasty sprain, but sure, do your worst, Doc.” He settled himself on the second step and stuck out his sock-covered foot.
I gently peeled off his sock so I could get a closer look at his foot and ankle. Unlike his head, there was definite swelling here. No bruising yet, but his level of grimace when I touched it said it wasn’t some minor injury either.