Prescriptions and Promises

by Jessica Matthews

  While Carrie wandered around, Jenny found the end roll of newsprint she’d bought and a package of magic markers. She tore off a large section, placed it on the floor, and sat Indian-style in front of it.

  The words for her new sign came easier and with a lot less emotional torment.

  ‘New hours. Monday through Friday. 11 to 5 p.m.’

  Under ideal circumstances, she would have remained closed until she’d completed the most involved remodeling projects, but people would still need their prescriptions filled, whether she was open for business or not. This way, she could keep Noah Kimball happy and not lose any income, however small it might be.

  As for Dr Kimball, now that time had let her view the situation more objectively, she grudgingly admired him for his protective interest in the pharmacy’s fate. In spite of their discord, she couldn’t find fault with a doctor whose actions were motivated out of genuine concern for his patients, even if he was opinionated and over-bearing.

  ‘Jenny?’ Carrie called out from across the room as Jenny carefully printed her message. ‘There’s a lady outside, wanting in. She looks mad, too.’

  Filled with a sense of impending doom, Jenny scrambled to her feet. Her aunt’s cupped hands framed her sour face as she peered through the plate-glass window.

  Jenny inwardly groaned. Eunice was early, much too early, and Jenny hadn’t mentally prepared herself for their meeting. How like Eunice to ignore their arrangements and then act inconvenienced because Jenny wasn’t at the appointed place.

  She quickly unlocked the front door and forced a cheerful note in her voice. ‘Aunt Eunice. What a surprise. Is it seven o’clock already?’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Eunice snapped, her black pillbox hat perched on top of gray hair worn in her usual tight bun. Jenny had made the mistake one summer of allowing her aunt to put her hair up, and had paid the price. Her headache had lasted for a week and her eyelids had taken just as long to feel normal and not slanted.

  Eunice’s black suit was reminiscent of the sixties, probably because she’d owned it since then. She purchased fabrics guaranteed for long wear and totally ignored current fashion. Since she kept all of her clothes for years, the styles eventually came back into vogue. To Jenny’s knowledge, the last time Eunice had bought a new dress had been in 1975 for Twyla Beach’s daughter’s wedding. Since then, she’d never passed up an opportunity to complain about the cost.

  ‘I wanted to get home before dark,’ Eunice stated, ‘so I came early. Although any time I’d hoped to gain I lost looking for you. Why I let you talk me into coming by this late at night, I’ll never know.’

  The idea of talking Eunice into doing anything that she didn’t want to do was ludicrous. Nothing ruled her aunt except her own wishes. As for it being late, the large wall clock showed five-fifteen.

  ‘I offered to save you a trip and mail the check,’ Jenny reminded her, who’d been willing to fork out the extra fees required for certified and registered mail. The money spent would have been worth the opportunity to avoid dealing with her aunt in person.

  Eunice snorted. ‘As if I’d trust the US postal service with my inheritance.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You do have it with you, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jenny motioned to Carrie whose instincts had apparently warned her to keep her distance. The youngster approached with a wary look in her eyes.

  ‘Would you, please, get my bag?’ Jenny asked her. ‘It’s on the desk.’

  Carrie nodded as she scampered to obey.

  ‘Who’s she?’ Eunice demanded to know.

  ‘My friend’s daughter. She’s spending a few weeks with me while her mother finishes her research project and thesis.’

  Eunice’s mouth fell into a disapproving line. ‘I might have known. Another woman who can’t take care of her own brats and pawns them off on someone else.’

  Jenny stiffened, aware of Eunice’s backhanded slur against Jenny’s mother. She’d loved spending her summers with her uncle since he’d been her only link to her father’s family. She’d enjoyed them even more after her aunt had moved out of town.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Jen said coldly. ‘Susan is a friend in need.’

  Eunice sniffed. ‘That’s what Earl would say before he took in every stray he could possibly find. Both of you are just too soft-hearted for your own good. It must be in your blood.’

  ‘Why, thank you,’ Jenny said, knowing her aunt hadn’t meant to be complimentary. She wanted to add that being soft-hearted was much better than being mean-spirited and growing old alone, but in the interests of peace she kept silent. After she transferred these funds, Jenny didn’t plan on seeing her aunt for any reason ever again.

  Carrie rushed forward with the bag in both hands and passed it over. ‘Thanks, hon,’ Jenny said, tugging on Carrie’s ponytail.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Carrie skipped back to whatever had occupied her interest before being interrupted while Jenny withdrew two white envelopes from her bag. Handing one to her aunt, she said, ‘It’s a cashier’s check. Just like you wanted.’

  Eunice’s eyes brightened as she eagerly snatched it out of Jenny’s grip. Apparently greed was the only emotion she could experience with any degree of enthusiasm. She tore open the flap and studied the figures. In the next instant, she reverted back to her contemptuous self. ‘Such a paltry sum for a lifetime of work,’ she said.

  ‘It’s exactly one-half of Earl’s estate.’ Jenny had the appraisal to prove it. She removed the page from the envelope in her hand and snatched an ink pen off the counter, wishing all of this had been handled under Terrell Hawver’s legal eye. He’d prepared the actual sale papers and personally obtained the necessary signatures. The forms awaiting Eunice’s signature today were a mere formality to show that she had received her share of the money.

  ‘If you’ll sign here on the dotted line, everything will be finalized.’

  Eunice refused the pen to glance around the room. ‘I see you’re going ahead with your foolhardy idea of running this place.’

  ‘Yes.’ Jenny dangled the pen under Eunice’s nose. Take it and sign, she mentally urged, feeling a sheen of nervous perspiration form across her forehead at the delay.

  ‘Maybe I shouldn’t let you buy me out after all.’

  Jenny crossed the fingers on her free hand. If Eunice knew how much Jenny wanted to cut all ties—especially the financial ones—she’d refuse to sell her portion even at this late date. Terrell might have the notarized bill of sale in his safe, but Eunice was crafty enough to spot any loopholes Terrell might have missed.

  ‘That’s your choice,’ she said evenly, hoping Eunice wouldn’t see through her act of indifference. ‘I can certainly put your portion of the money to good use. I’m short on inventory and the remodeling alone will take a huge chunk of change. Rewiring is so expensive, but it has to be done. We can’t risk an electrical fire. Being a businesswoman yourself, you’re aware of how one must spend money in order to make it.’

  Jenny reached out and lightly pinched the edge of Eunice’s check between her thumb and forefinger.

  Eunice snatched the cashier’s check away and tucked it into her black patent leather handbag for safekeeping. ‘Where do I sign?’

  Jenny bit back a relieved sigh as she once again held out the pen and pointed to the appropriate line on the form. ‘Right here.’ Without realizing it, she held her breath until Eunice had scrawled her name on the document.

  ‘Don’t think you can come crawling to me for a handout when you can’t make a go of it,’ Eunice warned on her way to the front entrance. ‘I’m not a bank.’

  It had been a well-known secret that as an only child of an only child, she’d inherited a vast sum from her own relatives. She could easily afford to give up her parsimonious ways for the rest of her life and still live in style, even if she lived to be a hundred and twenty.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Jenny opened the door. ‘Have a safe trip.’

  Eunice stu
ck her nose in the air and marched out. Jenny didn’t waste any time sliding the deadbolt home.

  Carrie joined her and the two of them watched Eunice drive away in her white Mercedes. ‘I’m awful glad she left. I was afraid she’d be here for hours.’

  Jenny shuddered at the thought. ‘Me, too, squirt. Thank heavens she wasn’t.’

  ‘She’s not a nice lady.’

  ‘No, she’s not.’

  ‘Was she always this grouchy?’

  ‘For as long as I can remember,’ Jenny said honestly.

  Carrie’s eyes widened. ‘Gosh. I can’t imagine wanting to live with someone like her.’

  A deep sadness filled Jenny as she contemplated how Eunice had made her beloved uncle’s life a living hell. He’d deserved someone far better than the woman he’d married. As for herself, she’d learned a valuable lesson—it was better to never marry than to marry the wrong person.

  ‘Neither can I,’ Jenny admitted.

  ‘Maybe something happened a long time ago and it made her grumpy.’

  Jenny smiled down on Carrie. ‘Could be, but I’ve never heard. Some people just aren’t happy unless they’re making other people’s lives miserable. I’m afraid my aunt is one of them.’

  ‘Too bad. She’s missing out on a lot.’

  For a kid, Carrie had remarkable insight. ‘You’re right, she is.’ Pushing aside the maudlin thoughts, Jenny clapped her hands together. ‘Give me a few more minutes to hang my sign, and then we’ll go.’

  She’d crouched down to pick the poster off the floor and noticed a shadow falling over her shoulder. She glanced up and nearly lost her balance at the sight of her latest—and equally unwelcome—visitor.

  Jenny rose, finger-combing her hair away from her face. ‘How did you get in?’ she demanded. After dealing with her aunt, she wasn’t in the mood to match wits with Noah Kimball. And since she had an impressionable audience, she didn’t want to stage a repeat performance of their earlier shouting match.

  He shrugged. ‘Through the door.’

  ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘The back door isn’t.’

  ‘It’s not for customers. Private use only.’

  ‘I’m not a customer,’ he pointed out.

  His face revealed something she couldn’t quite define—uncertainty, sympathy…A horrible idea took hold.

  She glanced in Carrie’s direction, hoping a trinket had captured her interest, but it hadn’t. She stood in the far corner and studied the two of them with undisguised curiosity.

  Jenny lowered her voice and narrowed her eyes as she pinned her most frosty gaze on him. ‘How long have you been listening?’

  He hesitated for only a few seconds. ‘Long enough.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  NOAH watched a variety of emotions flit across Jennifer’s face—horror, embarrassment, then outrage—before she raised her chin to a stubborn angle.

  ‘Is eavesdropping a habit of yours?’

  ‘No, but when I walked in, you and your aunt were deep in your…’ he cleared his throat ‘…your discussion. I didn’t feel I should interrupt.’ He’d told himself to leave and wait for her outside near her car, but he’d been so stunned by the specifics of their conversation that his feet had somehow become rooted to the floor.

  ‘I suppose I can expect the whole town to know what went on by morning,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘I hear rumors, but I don’t spread them.’

  She didn’t appear convinced, although he understood why she didn’t trust him. He’d either avoided her for the past month or vented his anger on her. After overhearing Eunice’s comments, he was more confused about Jennifer Ruscoe than ever.

  Then again, maybe he wasn’t ready to admit that he’d misjudged her—that she really did care about Earl’s legacy and the needs of the community.

  She motioned in Carrie’s direction. ‘If you’re here to create a scene, forget it. I won’t let you upset her.’

  He held up his hands in surrender. ‘That’s not my intent. I stopped by because people have been speculating about you all day. I want to separate fact from fiction.’

  ‘I’m sure the facts aren’t nearly as interesting as the stories.’

  ‘Maybe not, but the truth has a way of easing people’s worries.’

  ‘All right. All right. I can see you won’t rest until you’ve asked whatever is on your mind, so go ahead,’ she said crossly as she folded her arms against her chest and tapped one foot impatiently against the tile.

  ‘Let’s see.’ He ticked off the points on his fingers. ‘First of all, they say you’re not closing.’ He pointed to her sign on the floor. ‘It looks like one rumor’s true.’

  Surprise flashed across her face. ‘I can’t imagine how that could be making the rounds already. Unless Tom at the bank said something to someone.’

  Noah thought of Della. ‘He hasn’t mentioned a word.’

  She frowned, as if contemplating how the story might have leaked out. ‘Then how—?’

  ‘Your original “Going Out of Business” notice disappeared.’

  ‘That’s quite an assumption to make from such flimsy evidence.’

  ‘My receptionist considers herself an amateur detective,’ he added wryly. ‘Between the missing poster, your late hours and people seeing you in the bank on several occasions last week, they drew their own conclusions.’

  ‘If everyone keeps such close tabs on everything they see and hear, Springwater doesn’t need a newspaper.’

  He grinned. ‘We don’t have one. Most people subscribe to the Hays Daily. Their staff does a good job of covering our local events and anything else that comes along.’

  ‘Like an old business under new management?’

  ‘Exactly. I can make a phone call and you’ll be featured in Sunday’s business section.’

  ‘Thanks, but this place isn’t ready for publicity yet,’ she said, glancing around the store. ‘Maybe in a few weeks.’

  ‘How long are you keeping those hours?’ he asked, motioning to her poster.

  ‘It all depends on how quickly the contractors finish the remodeling and repairs. Have I answered all of your questions?’ she asked, her tone clearly one of dismissal.

  ‘No.’

  She stared at him. ‘There’s more?’

  Noah nodded. ‘I understand you’re here to stay.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t commute from Grand Junction, you know.’

  ‘To stay long term,’ he corrected.

  ‘Your source is wrong,’ she said flatly, as her gaze drifted across the room. ‘I’ve moved in, but I’m strictly a temporary resident. I’ll be leaving in the fall, after I turn the store over to someone else.’

  ‘What made you change your mind? I thought you didn’t want to be bothered by all of this.’ He gestured as he glanced around the room.

  ‘Thinking about taking credit for influencing me?’

  His denial was vehement.

  ‘Why does it matter what changed my mind? If memory serves me…’ she tapped her temple ‘…you didn’t care who provided the pharmacy services, only that those services were provided. I simply chose to temporarily fill in the gap.’

  ‘I’m curious. That’s all. You made it sound like you were on the verge of bankruptcy, yet you’ve obviously bought out your aunt’s portion.’

  She paused to nibble on her lower lip. For a few moments he thought she might break down and confide in him, but her expression changed. She’d obviously talked herself out of using him as a sounding-board.

  When she spoke again her voice was laced with quiet strength. ‘Uncle Earl taught me a valuable lesson about dealing with the public. Never discuss religion, politics, or finances. I won’t deny that money will be tight for a while, but the status of my bank account is none of your business, Dr Kimball.’

  ‘If you’re strapped for cash, I know of someone who’d be willing to underwrite your venture.’

  She raised one eyebrow. ‘Who? You?’
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  His offer had been impulsive and he was surprised she’d guessed correctly. ‘Why not? I can always use an investment.’

  ‘Isn’t that a conflict of interest?’

  He thought quickly. ‘Not if I invest in the building. It’s not my fault that a pharmacy just happens to occupy the space.’

  Carrie walked toward them, carefully holding a small music box. ‘Hey, Jenny. Look at this. Isn’t this neat?’

  Jenny took the little ballerina with the faded red net skirt and dutifully admired it from every angle. ‘Very pretty.’

  ‘And she works, too.’ Carrie wound the key several turns. The dancer slowly pivoted to a tinny rendition of the ‘Blue Danube’ waltz. ‘What are we going to do with all of this neat stuff?’

  ‘Most of this “neat stuff” isn’t worth keeping, much less selling,’ Jenny said. ‘We’ll probably throw most of it away.’

  Carrie’s face registered her horror. ‘Oh, we can’t do that. Why don’t we have a garage sale?’

  Jenny didn’t appear enthusiastic. ‘You get very little in return for all the work it takes to get ready.’

  Noah couldn’t keep silent. ‘One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Carrie seconded, flashing him a big smile which he returned. ‘I’d bet we’d earn more money than you think, too.’

  Jenny shook her head as she glared at him. She obviously didn’t appreciate the way he’d sided with her young charge. ‘We don’t have time for—’

  ‘Springwater merchants always hold a sidewalk sale on the last Thursday of June,’ Noah felt compelled to mention. ‘Everyone clears out their stock to make room for their fall shipments. It’s usually very successful at drawing people into town, which is why the Chamber of Commerce turned it into an annual event.’

  Carrie clapped her hands. ‘It’ll be perfect. Can we do it, Jenny? Please? Can we? Can we? I’d rather find a good home for things like the music box than to just throw them away. It’ll be good for the environment, ’cause we’re recycling.’

  The moment Jenny’s eyes twinkled, Noah knew they had won the battle. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But you’re in charge of it.’