Chapter 3 #2
She pulled back enough to look at me, but her hands remained clasped on my arms. “I knew your mom was endeavoring hard to get you home this year, but I have to admit I didn’t think she’d pull it off.”
“It appears I am no match for a supersized serving of mom guilt.”
Squealing, she hugged me again. “You’re staying through Christmas?”
“As if I could get away with less.”
“Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”
I groaned. “I haven’t even started.”
“Toby! That’s practically a crime! All those shops in Boston, and you haven’t done any shopping?”
“I’ve been busy.” I defended myself. After seeing patients all day, the last thing I felt like doing was battling the crowds.
“Well, you’re here now and will have lots of time.”
“Not as much as you might think,” I amended.
Her lips pursed, and she looked down, taking in the scrubs I was wearing beneath my open winter coat. Eyes snapping to mine, she said, “Are you going to be working here with your dad?”
I smiled, and her lips stretched into a wide grin. “Really?” She was hopeful.
“I’m actually going to be filling in for him. He’s going to take a little time off.”
Concern drew her eyebrows low. “But he’s doing okay?”
“Oh, yeah. My mom just wants him to take a break. Plus, I think it was her way of trying to convince me to come home. Give me something to do, you know?”
Brandy nodded. “Well, I’m excited. Not only is my bestie home for the holidays, but now I get to spend even more time with him at work!”
“Your organizational skills are on point,” I said, motioning toward the desk.
“You should see the cabinets in the back.”
“Oh, I already snooped through them,” I told her. “I’m impressed.”
Brandy slid her coat over her arms and headed into the back to hang it up, and I followed. “What the heck does he keep the heat on in here? It’s freezing,” I muttered, catching the fur-lined hood on a hook and rubbing my hands together.
“We turn it down every night before leaving,” she said, unwinding a red-and-green scarf from around her neck. In a voice meant to imitate my father, she went on. “Saves on the utility bill.”
“Seems like it would cost more to heat the place back up every morning than to just keep it at a consistent temperature,” I hypothesized while repeatedly tapping the button on the thermostat. “So fill me in on the day’s schedule and what time the rest of the staff comes in.”
As she talked, I went to the coffeemaker, pretty sure it was the same one he’d been using since I was in high school, and lifted the stained carafe off the burner.
Seeing my grimace, Brandy paused midsentence to giggle. “I bring mine from home,” she confessed, gesturing with her thumb toward the counter out front.
Through the archway, I could see her travel mug sitting on the top.
“Well, I can see why,” I said, sliding the pot back onto the hot plate. “There’s making good use of what you have,” I said reasonably, then pointed to the thing masquerading as a coffeemaker, “and then there is that.”
Her white teeth flashed when she threw her head back. “Want me to go across the street to Babs and get you a latte?”
“Oh my God, she makes lattes now?” I asked.
“This might be a small town, but times are changing.”
“Tell that to my father.”
Brandy laughed. “The tourism has picked up a lot over the last few years, and they love their lattes. They go especially well with her eggnog cream puffs.”
I groaned, thinking of the seasonal pastry that had once been my favorite.
Sometimes I still craved them, even after ten years.
If you didn’t get there early enough in the day, then you didn’t get one because they sold out every morning.
Sometimes before noon. Something I learned the hard way.
Shaking away that thought, I kept my focus on the present.
“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that I can even get it with oat milk.”
“You’re such a city boy,” she teased.
“I’d rather be a city boy than bloated.”
“One oat milk latte coming up,” Brandy said, grabbing her coat once more.
“With a pump of mocha?” I hoped.
“How about peppermint and mocha?”
“Babs has gone bougie!” I declared.
“I’m going to tell her you said that,” she hollered from the front.
“I’m gonna tell her myself!”
Brandy appeared with a file folder. “Here’s the list of patients for the day. It’s a full day.”
I flipped it open and scanned the list. “Five?” I asked, lifting the paper to look for more. “Is that all?”
“We might have peppermint mochas with oat milk now, but this is still a small town,” she explained.
“I see double, sometimes triple, this a day in Boston. Easily.”
“Well, now you’ll have time to do all that shopping you procrastinated.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What is this work-life balance you speak of?”
“And…” she emphasized, batting her long lashes. “You can come to the mistletoe raising tomorrow night!”
“There is not enough peppermint mocha or oat milk in all of Vermont for that to happen,” I deadpanned. Just thinking of that stupid festival made me want to get in my car and speed back to my apartment.
“Oh, come on, Tobes. It’ll be fun.”
“Yes, because nothing says fun like the vibrant memory of being humiliated and rejected.”
“But that was one time. Does that really overshadow all the other great memories you have?” she asked.
Considering all of my other great memories were focused around the person who also created that one, yes.
When I said nothing, Brandy sighed. “Have you seen him yet?”
I focused on the patient list but didn’t actually see the words. “No, and I plan to keep it that way.”
“It’s been a long time. Maybe if—”
I cut her off. “We should probably get to work. I need to look over the patient files before they arrive. I’d like to be at least a little familiar with each one.”
“I’ll go get that latte for you.”
I pulled a twenty out of my scrub pocket and held it out. “Get one for yourself too. And maybe an eggnog cream puff?”
She took the offered cash but then grabbed my hand. “I really am glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I said, giving hers a squeeze. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”
On her way to the door, she called over her shoulder, “All the files are in the cabinet. Organized alphabetically.”
“No iPad?” I asked.
“Yeah, right!”
Shaking my head, I went into the back toward the wall of file cabinets—yes, an entire wall.
Probably had over thirty years of records in them too.
On the way, I noted the old radio on the counter and paused to switch it on.
Surprisingly, the local station came through clearly, and “Frosty the Snowman” filled the air.
A blast of nostalgia hit me hard, and I was seven years old again, the same radio playing the same song as I stole Christmas cookies out of the tin on the counter while wearing a stethoscope around my neck.
“Tobias, come in here, son. Let me show you how to listen to a cat’s heart.”
I’d always loved animals, but my passion for caring for them all started here.
Tucking the memory back inside my heart, I moved to the cabinet, coughing from the dust flying up from the rows of paperwork.
“If Babs can upgrade the bistro, then there’s hope for you yet,” I murmured and got to work pulling the five files I would need for the day.