Chapter 3 #2
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up worse.
A piece of tinsel clung to his shoulder.
“I’m always busy. It’s—” He glanced at the waiting room, at the patients watching them with interest. “Give me ten minutes. Please. Then we can talk. And maybe you can help me find baby Jesus because I’ve been looking for him all morning. ”
She nodded.
He disappeared again.
Lili looked down at the incomplete nativity scene and spotted baby Jesus under a pile of pharmaceutical pamphlets. She placed him in the manger.
The woman with the toddler leaned toward her. “You’re a lifesaver, honey. That phone’s been driving us all crazy.”
Lili wasn’t sure what else to do, so she answered the next call.
And the next.
Then she started tidying. Not reorganizing. That would be presumptuous. But she plugged in the Christmas tree lights, picked up the fallen construction paper Santas, and retaped them.
By the time Brenda, a woman in her seventies who moved like every joint hurt, showed up wearing a sweatshirt that said, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas... But I’ll Settle for Wine”—Lili had taken eight messages, checked in two walk-ins, and made the waiting room look more festive.
Brenda stopped in the doorway and stared. “Did Christmas elves break in?”
“Just someone who can’t stand a ringing phone.”
Brenda laughed. “Well, bless you. I’ve been trying to convince Doc Ellis to hire help for months, but he keeps saying he’ll manage.” She gestured at the decorated waiting room. “This looks better than anything I’ve managed this week, and I’ve been on the decorating committee for twelve years.”
“You’re organizing the lights contest?”
“Organizing, coordinating,” Brenda lowered herself into the desk chair with a sigh. “It’s a whole production. Dr. Ellis is supposed to judge it again this year since his grandfather always did it. But I don’t know how he’ll manage with everything here.”
Lili glanced toward the closed exam room door. “How long has he been working alone?”
“Six weeks? His nurse went on maternity leave, and the temp he hired fell through.” Brenda shook her head.
“And this is his busy season. Flu, plus all the people who put off doctor visits trying to squeeze in at the last minute to get in before they have to pay new insurance deductibles in the new year.”
Lili glanced toward the exam rooms. “He still has patients back there?”
“At least three more.”
“I’m a nurse practitioner,” Lili said. “I could help. Take vitals, get their chief complaints, speed things up for him.”
Brenda’s face lit up like Christmas. “Would you? That would be like heaven. He’s been doing everything himself.”
So Lili did.
She roomed the next patient, took vitals, documented the reason for the visit, then handed Miles the chart. He glanced at it, nodded, and headed in.
While he examined and treated, she prepped the next patient. By the time he finished with one, she had the next ready. No wasted time, no awkward coordination, just efficient workflow.
By noon, the waiting room was empty, and Brenda headed home.
Miles found her cleaning up the last exam room. “That was... thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” She wiped down the table. “But I was here, so I figured, why not?”
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Where did you find baby Jesus?”
“Under some pamphlets about high blood pressure.”
“Who knew?” He studied her. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I came to return your sweater. It’s at the front desk.”
“You could’ve kept it.”
“It’s yours. You need it for the ugly sweater party.”
“If you keep it, I have an excuse not to go.”
They stood in the cluttered office, neither quite sure what to say next. Christmas music played “Holly Jolly Christmas.”
Lili broke first. “You need help.”
“I know. I had someone. She took off to have a baby, and her replacement never showed up.”
“You didn’t call the temp agency for another one?”
“I’ve been meaning to. I just—” He gestured. “It’s hard to look for help when you don’t have help. And now it’s the holidays, which means everything is twice as busy, and no one’s looking for work.”
She understood that trap. It was the same one she fell into at the hospital. Working too many hours to fix the problem of working too many hours.
“You’re a nurse practitioner,” he said.
“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve been working at Parkland in Dallas in the ER for the past few years.”
“Right, last night you said you were burned out. Big city ER will do that to you.”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to explain the rest, how the long hours were an escape at first, then became their own trap; how being needed by strangers was easier than dealing with David; how work had been the only place she felt in control until it stopped feeling like control and started feeling like drowning.
“I’m just trying to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life. ”
Miles was quiet for a moment. “Would you like a job? I mean until you figure out what it is you want to do.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I need help. Desperately.” He said it like he’d been thinking about it all morning and was afraid if he didn’t get it out now, he never would.
“Work at the clinic. Two weeks, two months, however long you need. No pressure. No commitment. Just help me keep my head above water until my nurse gets back from maternity leave.”
“Miles, I can’t—”
“Why not?”
“Because—”
“It’s not logical? Maybe that’s why you should do it. Do something that doesn’t make sense on paper but feels right anyway.”
She opened her mouth to argue, to list all the reasons this was a terrible idea, but the words wouldn’t come.
Because the truth was, sitting in this clinic that smelled like antiseptic and peppermint, talking to this exhausted doctor who cared too much and worked too hard, she felt more settled than she had in months.
“The clinic has an apartment,” Miles said. “Behind the building. It’s small. Just a bedroom, bathroom, tiny kitchen. But it’s empty. You could stay there. Have your own space. Independence.”
“You’re offering me a job and an apartment?”
“I’m offering you a chance to breathe. To figure things out without the pressure or expectations and—” He stopped. “And yeah, I’d get help in the process. So it’s not entirely altruistic.”
“It’s not altruistic at all. You’re desperate.”
“For sure.” He smiled. “But that doesn’t make it a bad offer.”
“Can I see it?” she asked. “The apartment?”
He grinned. “Of course.”
The apartment was as he’d described. Small. Dated. But clean. A bedroom with a double bed and a dresser. A bathroom with a shower but no tub. A kitchen barely big enough for one person, with a two-burner stove and a mini-fridge.
But it had windows that let in light. Locks on the doors. No three-year-olds jumping on the couch at 6:47 in the morning.
“It’s not much,” Miles said, standing in the doorway like he wasn’t sure he should come in. “It was a mother-in-law cottage when the house was built in the 1950s. My grandfather rented it for extra income, but we haven’t had a tenant in over six months.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Really?”
“It’s quiet and available. That’s all I need.”
He handed her the key. “I’ll get you some clean linens.”
“Thank you.”
“So is that a yes? You’ll take the job?”
She should say no. Should stick to the plan, help Rose through the holidays, leave when the new job came through, start the logical next chapter.
But the new job in a new state felt distant and cold. And this, Kringle, the clinic, Miles, the quiet apartment, felt warm and possible.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
“Should we exchange contact info?” He waggled his cell phone.
“Sure. What’s your number, and I’ll text you mine.”
* * *
Miles stood in the empty apartment after Lili left
She’d said yes.
He’d been so sure she’d say no. So certain that offering her a job after knowing her for one day was too much, too fast, too desperate.
But she’d said yes.
He pulled out his phone and typed a text to Nina:
Lili took the job.
Three dots appeared. Then:
WHAT JOB???
I offered her a job as my nurse practitioner. She starts tomorrow.
The phone rang.
“You did what?” Nina’s voice was half-laughing, half-incredulous.
“I offered her a job.”
“Miles. You’ve known her for less than twenty-four hours.”
“I know.”
“You threw barbecue sauce at her.”
“I’m aware.”
“And now she’s working for you.”
“Yes.” He sat on the apartment steps, looking at the clinic parking lot. “Is that crazy?”
Nina was quiet for a moment. “Honestly? No. It’s the sanest thing you’ve done in months. You needed help. She needs space. It works.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Good. Now go eat something. You sound exhausted.”
He stood, locked the apartment, and walked back to the clinic. Patient charts waited.
But it felt different now, because of her.