Chapter 5 #2
After Bryn left with her box of cookies, Victoria scurried into the back room.
While “O, Tannebaum” played over the sound system, she sat at her desk and plotted.
Picking up her landline, she made a quick call to the urgent care center, holding her nose to disguise her voice.
“Hello, is Dr. Darling on duty this morning?”
“No, he worked last night.” Thankfully, the woman did not sound familiar. “He might be over at the clinic. Can I take a message?”
“Oh, no. That's all right.”
Smiling wickedly, Victoria did a quick online search for nearby clinics.
Eventually she came to “The Open Hearth Clinic.” The name made her feel cozy all over.
She clicked and voila, there was Dr. Darling.
No white coat. Just a smile, surrounded by a few other people.
Bryn had it right. The clinic was in Amblebury.
She couldn’t help noticing a lot of other articles about the mines closing. Daddy had mentioned that. The loss of jobs had hit their economy hard. The small towns were trying to come up with some answers for their unemployment problem.
Popping a steno pad and pen into her tote, she stopped into the rest room. After refreshing her lipstick, she smoothed the tangled blonde hair that flowed past her shoulders. Today she was wearing her black jeans with the red boots. She’d pinned a piece of holly on her short red jacket.
Before she left, she peeked into the shop. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” she tossed out. Busy with customers, Maisy waved her away.
Victoria slid out the back door and took a deep breath.
Although it was December, the weather was mild in the Carolinas.
She loved that about the southern states and would never live anywhere else.
Although the leaves had fluttered down from the liveoaks, moss still hung from the branches.
The towering magnolia tree in back was a beautiful dark green.
With one click, she unlocked her car. She wished Daddy would build her a garage back here, but he’d said that it would take up too much room. “You have to think of other people, like your customers. Make the best use of that space.”
So okay, she’d felt like an idiot. Getting into her car, Victoria was tempted to put the top down but her hair would be a mess by the time she got to Amblebury.
Not today. When she switched on the radio, José Feliciano was singing “Feliz Navidad” and she pumped it up.
As she drove through town, she sang along, humming when she forgot the words.
What a great day. She felt so good about how the shop was shaping up.
And she had Palm Beach to look forward to.
Since Dr. Darling was a long shot, she might meet the next love of her life over the holiday break.
Mama had mentioned that Spencer Hutchinson might be there, on break from law school.
In high school, she’d had a huge crush on Spencer, who was three years older.
Amblebury was located off the main highway.
Before too long, she was headed down smaller roads that passed cotton fields, some tufts of white left in the flat fields.
Once she got close to town, she tapped the brakes and followed the signs to Main Street.
The small town didn’t have a square like Sweetwater Creek.
On Main Street, shops with names she didn’t recognize faced each other.
Wreaths hung from light posts, their bright red ribbons fluttering in the breeze.
But there weren’t many people shopping. Barrels with toiletries and Christmas decorations had been rolled out in front of their General Store.
But the end of the street was a completely different story.
The Open Hearth Clinic was easy to spot.
Men and women sat in mismatched rocking chairs, coffee mugs in hand.
Little girls played hopscotch on the sidewalk, while boys tossed a ball.
They looked happy. Beat-up pickup trucks sat in an adjoining lot, along with a jeep that looked familiar.
Hadn’t she seen this parked at the urgent care center? Her hopes lifted.
Feeling totally conspicuous in her red car, Victoria drove about a block past the clinic and parked. Step outside your comfort zone. Well, Bryn, this sure felt uncomfortable. Her stomach clenched.
Pushing open the car door, Victoria realized that this flashy red car had become her comfort zone. In it, she was Victoria Pomeroy, the girl who had everything.
Without it? She had no idea. But she was about to find out.
Just put one foot in front of the other, Victoria.
She took a step. Then another. The sun beat down through the bare branches of the towering liveoaks.
They’d probably been planted long ago when the mine was humming.
The group in front of the clinic had turned to look as she approached. The ball stopped bouncing.
“Good morning.” She dug deep for that perky tone. Conversation stopped and people parted. Did her nervousness show? Smiling, she passed.
“Good morning,” they answered in a ragged chorus. One man rushed to open the door.
“Thank you.” She ducked her head, feeling a hot flush color her cheeks.
He swept a cap from his head. “You're welcome, ma’am.”
Inside, the broad space was bright and crowded.
The first thing she noticed was the lack of that antiseptic hospital smell.
Instead, the place smelled like coffee and hot food.
Against one wall sat a long table. Behind it women were serving eggs, potatoes, bacon green beans and a big pot of grits.
Donuts were stacked on a plate. Some of the women in line had small children who looked up at her shyly.
People sat on folding chairs around long tables.
Children played in the corners. A card table held a puzzle and a dart board hung on the wall.
A Christmas tree in the corner caught her attention.
All of the ornaments, including the garland, seemed cut from construction paper.
Many of the shapes were trees with words scribbled on them.
The tree had been decorated with love. Uncertainty shimmering through her, she cast her eyes about. At least, no one asked her to leave.
On the wall across from the food were three doors, and one was closed.
What was behind door number three? Probably Dr. Darling.
Her false courage failed. No way was she going to knock on that door.
Victoria had no business here, and the thought nearly took her under.
Her jacket felt warm. The whole outfit was too dressy, or so she realized now.
Feeling like an imposter, she turned to leave when the door in the corner swept open.
She took a deep breath to calm her jangling nerves.
Dr. Darling escorted an elderly woman from the room, talking to her in a soft undertone.
Victoria inched closer. No white lab coat today.
Instead Derek Darling wore jeans and a gray Henley shirt that deepened his smoking hot eyes.
What would she say? Her mouth turned dry.
He hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she should creep away.
This reminded her of the first time she’d entered Escada in Palm Beach.
The polished store and disapproving stares from the staff had quickly melted her thirteen year-old confidence.
But Daddy had been behind her. When he extended a hand to the nicely dressed man, the man’s expression immediately warmed.
“Marcus, good to see you. Want you to meet my little girl.”
“Why of course.” Suddenly the attitude was all different. Suddenly everyone knew she was a girl who could whip out her Daddy’s card and buy anything in this store.
Today she was on her own. Slumping, she turned. I have to get out of here before he sees me.
“Ms. Pomeroy.” Unlike the man at Escada ten years ago, Dr. Darling’s tone wasn't welcoming. Instead, he sounded surprised and maybe a little irritated.
Looking up, she managed a little wave. Breathe, just breathe.
After making sure that the elderly woman was seated safely at a table and that one of the women had brought her food, Dr. Darling strolled toward her, hands in the pockets of worn jeans. He looked so darn cute in those running shoes. “Your concussion okay?”
The back of your head, Victoria. Her hand went up. “Yes. Thank you for asking. I’m fine.”
The look in his eyes told her that he already knew that.
Derek Darling realized she’d faked an injury to see him.
Under the overhead lighting fit for a supermarket, his eyes deepened to charcoal.
The guy was fit beyond belief, shoulders stretching the knit shirt that looked soft to the touch.
Victoria didn’t want to think about what lay beneath that shirt.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, in a tone the police probably used with shop-lifters.
Reaching into her tote with a shaky hand, she pulled out the notepad. “Guess I should have made an appointment. I wanted...I wanted...to interview you about the clinic. Open Heart?”
He frowned. “Hearth. The name is Open Hearth.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t see a fireplace anywhere.”
That brought the flicker of a smile but it faded fast. By that time she had a pen in hand. Man, she hoped it worked. “If you don’t have time today, I can always come back.”
When his soulful gray eyes looked into hers, she felt a little faint. Maybe she did have that brain concussion after all.
“Who is this article for?” His words were stiff as her hair brush.
“The Sweetwater Gazette. I do some, um, freelancing for them.” Oh mother mercy.
“They’ve already published one article.” Suspicion clouded those gray eyes.
Think fast. “This is a follow-up piece.” Somehow she pulled these words from a long-ago journalism class.