Chapter Five
WHOA, TALK ABOUT the perils of small-town life. Mrs. Kline had toppled Amarie’s blissful existence faster than Oprah’s Harry and Meghan interview. To make matters worse, she’d painted a Cristal-and-caviar level of luxury by spilling the tea on Prince and the designer luggage of unmentionable origin. Not that her private affairs, or how she came to be in West Virginia, required a security clearance, but what would Eli think if he saw proof that her past swerved into the unprepared lane most days? Three words summed up Eli: exact, ordered, and immovable. Would his military mindset demand immediate termination?
How unfair because she really could help him run the practice with improved efficiency.
Already Amarie had tidied her small desk twice, no, three times. Once had been plenty, but Eli watching her every move with his all-seeing eyes had ratcheted up her stomach acid production to gastric Chernobyl levels. She was one hairy eyeball away from a bathroom blowout of epic magnitude. To her credit, she’d sought expert advice, not on the gas bubbles arm wrestling her sphincter, but rather on a best practices blueprint from the American Veterinary Medical Association. The website had too many words and not enough pictures for her taste. In the end, she’d resorted to YouTube videos less than ten minutes in length explaining the day-to-day operations of a small veterinary practice. Today she planned to peck out a to-do list in the notes section of her smartphone, prioritize the action items from one to ten, and implement the top three. Small, yet monumental, baby steps.
In actuality, animals and humans needed much the same. There were medical consultations, physical examinations, vaccinations, acute care, laboratory studies that could be billed without actually seeing a doctor, and of course, grooming services. Basically, she was a nurse in training for quadrupeds.
But all her investigative work would be wasted if she got canned.
Maybe Leah could help. Well, she already had.
The Calvary family matriarch had followed Amarie onto the porch yesterday, where they had discovered Vali slumped in a rocking chair, a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound snoring toddler stewing in her own juices, literally.
Amarie quickly apologized a dozen times. Vali, being Vali, had laughed off her mountain adventure, stating the trip was worth it to meet Amarie’s goat trio, who she’d named Billie, Jean, and Diana. Leah had sprung into supermom mode. She’d tucked the luggage into the sewing room, batting away Amarie’s protests. Within minutes, Vali’d had a travel mug of Leah’s special blend cradled to her lips and what Amarie considered the best baked dough north of the Mississippi in her tummy.
Now Eli wanted answers. But she’d rather not divulge the details before she had time to sort things out. Like transportation, housing, and the rest of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
“Amarie,” Eli barked.
“What, you big bully?” She ignored the flash of warning in his eyes. “I’m thinking.”
Even with his lush midnight beard, Amarie saw the muscle in his jaw tick. “Don’t think. Talk,” he demanded.
“Stop rushing me,” she mused. Not that she wanted to be difficult, but what if Eli condemned her decisions? Like her father, would he use it as an excuse to remind her of how inadequate she was at… everything? Just like Russell, she would be giving him the ammunition to extinguish this little flame of success she’d ignited.
“I’m not a patient man.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “As if that wasn’t obvious.”
“Talk,” he ordered.
At a crossroads on day two. She’d hoped to avoid questions. Particularly those of interest to Eli “Doberman Pinscher” Calvary, whose very presence dizzied her wits, which was hard to do, while simultaneously curling her toes. Instead of socializing, something she worked hard at, she chose to power her productivity with positive vibes. She’d jumped at the chance to apply her nursing knowledge during Adele’s surgery. Sterile technique, hydration status, urine output, she’d done it all without him directing her to assist. Up next, implementing her baby steps to success, which would benefit him even if she received a different kind of pink slip.
So, here she was. Tell him the truth. Get fired.
Delay the truth. Get fired. But at the end of the day, she’d be two hundred and twenty-four dollars richer.
“I’m not a patient man,” she repeated, buying herself two measly seconds. “I think that’s a line from the Forrest Gump movie. You a fan?”
“No. And it’s not.”
“Okay. Okay.” Maybe she could negotiate a settlement like those cheesy injury lawyer commercials. “You have to promise not to fire me, first. No matter what you hear.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Have you never negotiated? There are trade-offs involved. Quid pro quo.”
“Keep dragging this out and firing is what you’re gonna get.”
They were both healthcare providers, trained to be empathetic. He would understand, maybe even agree with her. She ventured a look up at those jeweled eyes that no print media could capture. Nope. No agreement in his stony features. Eli Calvary had a warring, avenger, dark-lord vibe. For now, she was under his command.
“So, Prince and I had a rough Monday,” she began.
“Why? Did something bad happen?” He waited for her to continue and explain who and where her Prince had disappeared to. Eyes intent, focused on the words as they hung, unspoken, behind her lips. Lips he traced with his gaze.
“In a manner of speaking,” she cleared her throat, “yes.”
“Forget a manner of speaking.” Their glares locked. “Tell me the matter-of-facts.”
“Now see here, Eli Calvary. I still have a right to my privacy. Since when is my commute your business?”
No one had ever been interested in her comings and goings. That had bothered her for years. Then she’d found comfort in others not having any expectations of her. When no one cared, it didn’t matter what your choices were, good, bad, or indifferent.
“You’re hiding something.”
“I’m a woman. I’m allowed secrets. A lady should possess a certain amount of intrigue. Just accept that I’m a mythical creature. As such, I can never be fully understood. Just move on.”
“Ah, that’s rich. You’re rambling and BS-ing again.”
Of course, he was right. It was one of her telltale signs whenever she got overwhelmed. She could do this. Amarie Walker failed at many things, actually most things, but no matter the circumstances, she finished what she started.
She sighed, not seeing any way around spilling the details Mrs. Kline missed.
“So, here’s the deal—”
The bell above the door dinged. Eli turned just as Amarie looked up. In walked a colorful caravan of ladies waving pink flyers.
“Oh no you don’t,” Eli started, but Amarie seized the opportunity of distraction.
“Excuse me, boss. Customers before conflict.”
“Howdy, Eli.” A rail-thin woman with gray roots and blonde-frosted tips grinned. “Mrs. Kline said the new girl has livened up the place and to git here quick as lightning. I got questions about you and your brothers being up for grabs, too. Which one of you is into feet?”
“Noah,” Leah and Eli yelled in unison.
Amarie so forgave Mrs. K for gossiping right now. She used the interruption to focus on her job. Eli’s inquisition averted. “Happy Tuesday, ladies, step right up and I’ll get you checked in. I’m Amarie, the new girl-slash-receptionist. I have a new intake form with our payment options for each of you to complete and then you can see the doctor.”
Eli swung around so fast, Amarie took a step back.
“They don’t even have pets.” His voice practically boomed in the small space.
“Then I’ll book them as walk-in consultations,” she hissed, leaning in. “Let me handle this, please.”
“You,” he sputtered, “are not off the hook.” Eli tapped the side of his temple, threatening her with his one-track mind. “Come on, Hiccup.”
The canine resting at her feet lifted a brow in response but stayed put.
“Traitor,” Eli barked.
Hiccup barked back and that was that.
For the next several hours, Eli had to stop his eagle eye routine and actually attend to his clientele.
Problem was, Calvary Vet had more females than felines filling the reception area. Well, that wasn’t actually true, there were definitely some cougars with their claws ready to swipe at the only masculine prey. The exam room door opened, and an impatient Eli escorted the last of the ladies out the door.
It was the end of the day and Amarie had used the time to make herself invaluable—un-fireable.
“Why is my phone pinging with tomorrow’s appointment reminder?”
“Because I wanted to remind you about tomorrow’s farm appointment today,” she said slowly, as if he had trouble understanding her.
“First off, I don’t need reminders in my own clinic. Who told you to take the appointments online?”
“You did.”
“Now, that there is a fib. Lying to me will get you booted out the door.”
“You said the front desk is my problem.”
“Yeah.”
“So, that makes me management.”
“That’s not in the policy.”
“I read your single-sheet policy manual. It’s not expressly prohibited. I took creative liberties.”
“Well don’t. Post-it notes did the job.”
“For you. All the YouTubers recommended this free cloud-based software for the practice.”
“Anybody ever tell you the internet’s not real? I’m running a business. Not an entertainment profile.”
Amarie was quick to defend her process improvements. Social media had been her constant companion. With tens of thousands of people tuning in for her PerkyLateBloomer InstaG reels and TikTok videos, she’d found a safe place to share her authentic self.
“Leveraging social media is a great way to get your brand message in front of potential customers,” she defended.
“And how’d you get my cell phone number?”
“From the employee roster.”
“Momma,” he bellowed. “What in—you gave her—that’s confidential information.”
His mom peeked her head out. “You said it was for employees only. That’s me and Amarie.”
“Thank you, Leah.” Amarie gave a mock high-five. “As the office manager, we have transitioned to an online patient management system that allows our pet owners to schedule appointments via our web-based portal twenty-four hours a day. That means they don’t have to wait for one of us to answer the phone. And then there are Zelle payments.”
“Don’t need it. Cashbox worked for my father. Nothing was wrong with the way it was,” Eli said through clenched teeth.
“Trust me, you’re too impatient for my dissertation on the high cost of operational inefficiency. So, in addition to old-school cash and checks—ew, can you say dirty money?—we now accept contactless online payments. The money is deposited directly to the clinic’s account for immediate availability.”
Eli brows pitched low, his expression thunderous. He glared at his mother. “Tell me you didn’t give our financials to a complete stranger.”
“She’s a part of the team, Eli.”
“Fine,” he spat. “Come tomorrow, I want you to teach me everything you’ve changed.”
“Really?” she asked. Russell had never been interested in anything she did as long as it was done.
“This is still my business.”
“I know,” she said, her tone gentling.
Leah chimed in. “Wow, did you see how excited the women are about the bachelor auction? They booked out the afternoon schedule.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of weird to make this much money for the clinic from bachelor auction–generated consultations.” Amarie offered a half smile, trying to envision Eli as gallant as the women described the man in the photo. “I still can’t believe you looked that good in your military uniform.”
“You made that point yesterday,” Eli grumbled.
“The picture doesn’t look like you up close nor at a distance,” Amarie chirped.
“Whatever, you.” He rolled his eyes, before dragging the conversation in a different direction. Though Amarie could stay right here, with the focus off her.
“So, they actually paid the consultation fee?” His tone was disbelieving.
“Yes.” Amarie nodded. “Your time is money. Count on me to collect every penny owed.”
“Imagine that. Asking your customers to pay for services rendered.” Leah smiled, a little more than vindication in her voice. There was a large dose of I told you so.
Amarie fisted the dollar bills from the cash box and paraded the small booty in front of Eli’s wide eyes. “Six hundred and seventy-eight big ones.”
“Give me that,” he said, pocketing today’s revenue.
“Way to go, Amarie,” Leah cheered. “Let’s celebrate your second day with dinner at the Black Bear.”
“Ah, I’ll stay and lock up.” She’d dodged the question about her car, but she didn’t think the same tactic would work twice if he asked where she stayed in town.
“This is Service. We don’t lock doors. Now go on.” Eli pointed to the door.
Where could she go? She didn’t have the money for lavish restaurant food. Anxiety gripped her stomach. Panic ripped through her chest. Breathing against the clawing pinch of her airway heightened her discomfort. Fear of discovery spread, biting into her until she felt genuine pain seize her limbs. Her nostrils started to burn, first inside, then moving higher until tears swelled and her head spun. She pushed back against the rushing tide. It had been many years since she’d slept in the back of a car. But she’d survived it once. And this time it would be her choice.
“Please, come.” Leah hooked her arm through Amarie’s elbow. “It’s my treat.”
Amarie wavered on now-trembling legs. With one hand she gripped her desk, her world slowed. Waters receded. Rotation ceased.
“Yes.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you.” She gripped Leah’s hand tighter than called for. “Thank you so much.”
“Pick up the mail while you’re in town, office manager,” Eli called from his office. “Momma’s got the box key.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Amarie sniffed, grabbing her purse from the desk drawer before relocking it. “I’m ready.”
“Amarie.”
She stiffened at the stern timbre in Eli’s voice. She’d almost made it. She envisioned the champagne waterfall on the way into town—plunging down, like her; crashing, like her; swept up, like her—until the current scattered the last of her pummeled remains. Turning, she braced herself the impending rejection.
“Yes?” That sounded too shaky, but at least it was just her voice.
“You earned another day on the job.”
Amarie followed Leah out the front door, but not before saying to Eli, “Thanks… boss.” She smiled so big, her jaw hurt. He actually wanted her to stay. Nothing could ruin her day. The thing about being wrong was that she rarely saw it coming before it hit her in the face.