26. Brenna
26
brENNA
“I am so not looking forward to this drive.”
Mell shoves a large bite of pancake in her mouth unceremoniously, making a show of chewing it. I laugh, even though nothing about the moment is funny. Really, if anything, it’s to keep from crying. Mell and I have said goodbyes like this before—even though they aren’t really goodbyes, more like see ya laters—but that doesn’t make them any easier. No matter how you spin it, it still sucks.
“At least you have your mom.”
Mell huffs out a sigh, her whole body deflating. “That’s a whole other thing. I love her, but fourteen hours in a car with her…if one of us doesn’t end up on the side of the road dead, it might be a miracle. Especially after living together this summer. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be back in my parents’ house after being on my own.”
I nod, understanding that all too well. After all, that’s why I moved into Brandt and Milo’s loft in the first place this summer—to avoid my family. My sister specifically. My parents I like. And I’ve spent plenty of time with them this summer. All of it away from the family home and the hot mess that is Bryce.
The bell over the door tinkles, cutting through the faint conversation in Dolly’s. It’s midmorning, so the major early morning breakfast rush has gone, leaving only those who have time to linger, allowing for a much calmer atmosphere. One where you could hear yourself think and even have a semiprivate conversation. Providing the right mix of people are—or aren’t—present, that is.
Mell and I both look up, watching as Alice Evans, owner of Oh, My Lard!, the town bakery, and one of Dolly’s best friends, breezes in, making her way straight to the back. She doesn’t bother to stop and say hi to anyone, clearly on a mission, and for a split second, I wonder what it is. Then, I stop myself. I will not let myself get caught up in any of that. Not my business.
“Speaking of your parents…” Mell says, bringing me back to our conversation.
“We weren’t talking about my parents.”
“Sure we were. We were talking about mine, so ipso facto we were talking about yours.”
“Okay…”
I have no idea where she’s going with this, but I take a long sip of my coffee, trying to buy myself some time.
“Do they know about Milo?”
“He’s been Brandt’s best friend since they were three, and Dad is the head of payroll at Hayes, so I’m pretty sure they are aware of Milo’s presence at this point,” I quip.
“But do they know you’re fucking him?”
I lurch forward, the hot coffee slamming to a halt in my throat, causing me to choke. I should have known better than to take a sip. Should have known where she was taking this. But no, I trusted that she was going to behave. Twenty-plus years of friendship should have taught me better, and yet, here we are.
Mell arches an eyebrow, looking very proud of herself, despite my almost requirement of the Heimlich. The little look tells me that I’m not getting out of answering this.
“Such specifics have not been discussed, no,” I sass, still trying to catch my breath.
“But they know, right?” she asks again. This time, her tone is softer, more serious. It’s an actual question, rather than just best friend banter.
I lift a shoulder, not really sure of the answer. “I guess? The four of us had dinner the other night, and nothing was said, but…it felt implied? And let’s not lie to ourselves. We haven’t been entirely discreet, and Hickory Hills is what it is, so I’m sure the underground network has gone wild with stories. Mrs. Chamberlain was in the drugstore interrogating Milo like he was on the witness stand. I’m sure my parents have put together that there’s something between us. For all I know, it was one of them who sent the photo to Brandt.”
“Something still undefined.”
Mine…
Milo’s words echo in my head, so clear he might as well be sitting next to me saying them. My heart squeezes and my insides go fuzzy with each repetition, the gentle reminder meaning more and more each time. Because I know he meant it. The same way you know when it’s going to rain. You just do.
Which is also why I’m not pushing for a definition. Maybe that makes me na?ve. But I know the realness of it, even without a name.
“Says the girl who was ‘just friends’ with some guy and then all of a sudden had a ring on her hand.”
I throw her a knowing look, staring her down for a long moment. She has the good sense to look semi-embarrassed, her own words coming back to bite her. Mell had met Jon during our spring break trip junior year and was smitten the second she saw him. Not that she admitted to it. She insisted they were “just friends,” despite being glued to her phone, texting him whenever possible, ditching me the second he would show up while on leave. Six months later there was a ring on her finger, and they were married two weeks after graduation.
They are perfect for each other, and I love seeing her happy. However, she has no room to talk here.
“Has Brandt said anything else since he asked about the photo?” Mell continues, ignoring my point.
“Not to me.”
“What about Milo? Has he told his best friend what’s really going on?”
I swallow hard. Now that’s one question I can’t answer.
Because I have no fucking idea.
“I…I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I wish I was going to be here for that,” Mell laughs, sitting back in the booth. “Can you record that and send it to me?”
“What? No! Why would I do that? Brandt’s going to be cool with it.”
I think…
“Brandt’s gonna be cool with it…” Mell repeats, as if I just said the words in ancient Russian.
“Yes,” I defend.
Mell studies me for a second, and I let her, sure of my answer. I’ve thought about this, and I know my brother. We’re close. Sure, we’ve spent most of this summer playing phone tag and trading one-off texts rather than actually talking like we usually do, and sure, I lied to him when he asked about the photo, but that doesn’t change that I know him. And that I know that what he wants for me is to be happy. When he gets back to Hickory Hills and sees how happy I am with Milo, then he will be happy for us.
“You really believe that.”
“I do. Mell, Milo is his best friend. Has been his entire life. If there is someone that he knows, that he trusts, that he thinks is a good enough person to be his best friend and business partner, wouldn’t that person also be good enough to date his sister?”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Exactly.
I stab victoriously at a stray piece of omelet on my plate, popping it my mouth. The eggs have gone cold, but I swallow it anyway, washing it down with a long swig of coffee.
I need to change the subject. Only problem is, I don’t know to what. The only two things I can think of are the two elephants fighting for space in the room, neither of which we want to talk about—her leaving this afternoon and my relationship.
“Brenna!”
I perk up, never more excited to hear my name. I shift in the booth, my eyes landing on Doc Galindo, our local GP, smiling brightly as he approaches the table.
“Doc.”
“And MaryEllen,” he greets, tipping his pretend cap as he spins a chair from a neighboring table around and straddles it at the edge of ours. “Just the ladies I wanted to see.”
“I didn’t do it,” Mell quips.
“Fair enough, it’s more Brenna. But, I’m happy you’re here too, since I’m hoping maybe once you hear my pitch, you’ll take my side and we can gang up on her together.”
Gang up on me? I’m not sure I like the sounds of this.
“How can I help?”
A good-looking man in his late forties, Doc Galindo has been the town GP since I was little, having taken over from his father. Another one of the original Hickory Hills families, the Galindos have been in charge of the medical practice in town since before the Civil War, and if rumors are true, at least one of Doc’s kids plans on continuing the family tradition.
“Rumor has it you passed your boards. Congratulations.”
News sure does travel fast…
“Thank you.”
“Rumor also has it that Wally Hovland has been trying to get you to stay and take over the drugstore.”
I sigh. Here it is. The guilt trip. I have to admit, I didn’t see it coming from the doc. Others in town, sure. But not him. I’ve always liked Dr. Galindo. He’s gentle, caring, easygoing, and a really good listener. He’s never been one to dismiss someone quickly or tell them that something is in their head. Even a semi-hysterical teenage girl who is convinced she has an STD—even though she’s still a virgin—and it turns out it’s simply a bad case of ill-placed poison ivy.
Not that I know that last part from experience or anything.
“Also true.”
“And are you considering it?”
The hopeful look on his face is enough to make anyone feel contrite. Still, I can’t lie to him.
“I haven’t made up my mind about what my plans are, to be completely honest.”
“I need you to take it. In fact, I’m begging you to take it,” he says.
Begging. Wow. That’s a strong verb there. One that I’m not really sure what to do with.
Doc Galindo must see the shock on my face because he doesn’t wait for me to respond before continuing. “I need a partner in the pharmacy, Brenna. I’m sure you’ve spent enough time there to know that Wally refuses to do vaccines.”
I nod. I have noticed that. It’s impossible not to, considering there is a large sign posted in the pharmacy that vaccines aren’t administered there. When I asked about it, Mr. Hovland told me he couldn’t be bothered with them. That didn’t make sense to me. It’s not like the store is so overrun with prescriptions to be filled that it would take too much time away from that function of the job. Also, it’s not that much additional paperwork with the insurance companies.
“Flu season is around the corner,” Doc says. “Which means that it’s vaccine season. Hickory Hills Drugs not being an option for the vaccines only leaves my office here in town. Which means people have to make an appointment, and I have to charge them a co-pay. Then I don’t have appointments available for people who need to be seen for other reasons— real reasons. Over something that can be handled at the pharmacy.”
“And you’ve talked to Mr. Hovland about this?”
“Many times. He refuses. Says he?—”
“Can’t be bothered,” we finish the sentence in unison.
My insides squeeze. Knowing that so many people in town don’t have an easy option to get the vaccines they want or need breaks my heart. Part of the oath of a pharmacist is to consider the welfare of humanity—and putting your community in a situation where they can’t get a doctor’s appointment or have to pay a co-pay they might not be able to afford is not doing that. At least not in my opinion.
Things I didn’t realize I was going to be upset about today.
Still, it’s not that easy.
“Doc, I hear you. I get it. But…” I sigh. “Even if I were to say yes, sure, I’ll stay, and I’d be open to doing vaccines, ei ther right away or after Mr. Hovland retires, we’d still have to clear that with whomever actually owns Hickory Hills Drugs. And I don’t know who that is.”
“Hovland.”
The answer hits me smack in the face. Like it’s an arrow and I’m the bullseye.
Mr. Hovland owns Hickory Hills Drugs. Did I know this? I think back to all the conversations he and I have had about me taking over the pharmacy. About him retiring and his plans. My brain moves as fast as it can, scanning each conversation in detail. But I come up shorthanded. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Not once did he mention that he owned the store. That him retiring and me taking over would mean that I would take over the entire business, not just the pharmaceutical part. Holy shit. That changes things. All the things.
“Mr. Hovland owns the whole store?” Mell asks, stealing the words from me.
“Yeah,” Dr. Galindo confirms. “You didn’t know that?”
I shake my head. “He left that part out.”
“Unless there is something I’m missing, which I don’t think there is from the way he’s talked about it to me, he’s hoping to turn the whole thing over to you. Which is why I’m hoping I can convince you to do this. Because like I said, I need a partner. Someone I can work with. There is so much we could do between the practice and pharmacy for this town.”
“From the sounds of it, just getting the vaccines out of your office would be a game changer.” I chuckle.
“Brenna, you have no idea. But more than that, the people of this town—they’re not getting any younger. And more and more, we’ve got folks who don’t just see me, they see specialists over in Tifton. So I have no idea what meds people are on when they do come see me, and askin’ them…it can be a nightmare.”
“You’d be open to doin’ MTM?” I perk up, my pulse jumping with excitement.
“MTM?” Mell asks, looking between Doc and me, clearly lost.
“Medication Therapy Management,” I explain. “Once a month or so we’d invite people to come in, bring all their meds, and we’d sit down and review them, then make a comprehensive list. I can review what’s what, so that we can know if there are any potential interactions we don’t want, plus then Doc here can keep that list some place safe in case it ever needs referencing. It’s a big thing in senior communities.”
I fight back a smile, excitement coursing through me so fast I’m almost vibrating. These are the kinds of programs I want to run. The reason I became a pharmacist. The reason I don’t want to work for Big Box USA. None of this would ever fly with all their corporate red tape. Hell, when I asked about doing it with the Well Nest, that seemed sticky enough. The only saving grace there was that I was told that once I had a few years under my belt with the store, I would have more flexibility to set up community outreach. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
Is it really possible that what I’ve been looking for could be mine, and in Hickory Hills? It all feels a little too good to be true. As if the universe is playing a trick on me. I need to control my emotions and not get ahead of myself. Just because Doc Galindo says all this, doesn’t make it real. I need to confirm all this with Mr. Hovland first.
“So, whaddya say?” Doc asks.
I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“That’s all I ask. ”
Drumming his hands on the table, Doc stands up, spinning the chair back around and putting it back at the table where he found it. He says his goodbyes, leaving Mell and me, both of us more than a little taken aback by the conversation.
“So, just one question,” Mell says, breaking the silence.
“What’s that?”
“Are you going to accept the silver platter? Or do you need it spoon-fed to you?”
I throw my head back laughing, loving the way she calls me out. Something only a bestie could do.
Without wasting another second, I slide out of the booth and rush over to give her a hug.
“Love you, drive safe, let me know when you get there. Don’t kill your mom.”
She squeezes me tight, holding me for a beat longer. “We don’t leave ’til this afternoon, so if this all turns out to be a lie and we need to go kick the doc’s ass, just let me know.”
I snort. Then I’m out the door.