That explained Eunice’s scorn over Jenny giving her friend the same helping hand Earl had given her mother. Giving of oneself was obviously a legacy she’d learned from Earl.
‘Every year, I spent six to eight weeks with my uncle until I graduated from high school. I loved those days.’ She glanced around the sunny yellow kitchen. ‘I can’t believe he’s gone. Everything looks just like it did back then. It amazes me how the refrigerator still works. They bought it in the early sixties.’
‘I’ve wondered the same thing,’ he said, eyeing the unit with its outdated lever-style handle.
‘Sometimes I catch myself expecting to see him walk through the door and ask for a root beer float.’
Noah heard the catch in her voice and he reached over to touch her hand. ‘I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘I visited here quite often myself.’
‘I’d give up all this in a heartbeat,’ she said, motioning with her free hand, ‘to have him back. Some days, I’m so angry with him for leaving this to me.’ She paused. ‘You must think I’m a terrible person.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I think you’re an honest one. Anger is one of the stages of grief, so what you’re feeling is healthy. Where’s your mom now?’
‘She and a friend are motoring across America. I keep thinking she’ll call and tell me I’m getting a stepfather, but it hasn’t happened yet. Do you like to travel, too?’
‘Hey,’ he protested lightly, happy she’d freely shared more information about herself. ‘You’ll have to wait your turn to ask questions.’
She grinned. ‘Then be prepared to lose.’
‘Says who?’ he said, pretending affront. In actuality, losing to Jenny wouldn’t be a bad experience.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE next three weeks passed quickly. Jenny thought of the store now as hers rather than her uncle’s. She’d arranged her stock to her liking and knew exactly what she had on hand and where to find it.
Noah arrived like clockwork every evening after he closed his office, and she found herself listening for his familiar footstep and throaty greeting. Although they’d played basketball often, the physical contact of their first game was never far from her mind. The more they were together, the more she longed to experience what she was certain would be a toe-curling kiss. Their chaperone, however, put a damper on the situation and so Jenny poured her frustrations into her work. Between the three of them, they refinished the antique pieces they’d dragged out of the basement and polished others to a high gloss, before turning them into display cases for her new shipments of goods.
After devoting exceptionally long hours to her projects during the past weekend, she came to work one Monday morning filled with an immeasurable sense of pride as she viewed the fruits of her labor.
A cherry-wood pie safe stood against one wall, filled with her new herbal products. A grouping of several round end tables and a newly restored trunk with polished brass fittings stood in the center of the room. Inside the trunk, a variety of sunscreen and sunburn products leaned against a collection of sand toys, children’s sunglasses, a beach umbrella, and a floppy hat.
One table held a display of Medic-Alert bracelets and necklaces and the corresponding literature. On another, Carrie had stacked a variety of summer allergy products around a pot of silk flowers. Where she’d found the large plastic bumble-bee, Jenny didn’t know, but it added a crowning touch to the display.
Now that her vision of modernizing the pharmacy had become a reality, Jenny decided to move into the next phase of her plan—providing services. She’d scheduled a PharmCo technician for fingerstick cholesterol screening as part of a promotion on cholesterol-lowering drugs. As soon as her funds permitted, she would install a blood-pressure machine for her customers. She’d also volunteered to work with the local health department during their diabetes screening clinics.
Things were definitely shaping up.
She retrieved the morning mail from the box outside the front entrance and began shuffling through the envelopes. Her heart skipped a beat as she came across two on distinctive personal stationery. Neither name nor return address were familiar.
Immediately she slit those open first. Inside both were letters of introduction and résumés—one from a pharmacist who’d heard about her job from a friend, the other from a woman who’d responded to her ‘Help Wanted’ ads.
Excitement bubbled inside as she scanned the letters again, hardly able to believe her good fortune. At long last, she’d finally generated interest in her job. Noah would be pleased to know that the fate of the pharmacy wouldn’t hinge on a lack of personnel. If two people saw the possibilities of practicing in Springwater, then others might also.
To her surprise, her euphoric feeling soon passed, leaving in its wake one tinged with regret. She wouldn’t be around to personally oversee the programs and services she’d worked so hard to implement.
On the heels of her startling discovery came the gentle reminder of her teaching contract. For the first time, she toyed with the idea of resigning her position at the high school, but her sense of preservation overruled it. She’d simply have to hire a manager who embraced her vision and would oversee her plans with the same enthusiasm.
Her resolve somewhat strengthened, she studied the candidates’ curricula vitae and called each of them to schedule interviews.
Later, as she lay in bed, listening to Carrie’s breathing across the hall, the creaks of the old house and the hoot of an owl, she discovered regret for something else as well.
Leaving meant an end to her evening workouts with Noah. Sure, she could find someone else to pit herself against, but her enjoyment had little to do with the actual exercise and everything to do with his company.
She’d learned that he loved history and liked to visit historical sites. He hadn’t played basketball in college, but had been his high school’s star forward for three years. His father had been a banker, his mother a secretary. They had divorced when he was thirteen.
Intuitively, she’d sensed a deep hurt in him as he’d recited the bare bones of the story. Perhaps, in time, he’d be more forthright.
She also admitted to counting the hours from the time he left until their next competition. Their question-and-answer period had been more rewarding than painful. The topics had been innocuous so far and she hesitated to ask something more personal, although she knew the moment was coming. Once she crossed the line separating general interest and deep soul-searching, he would reciprocate. She might be ready to see if his kiss came close to her fantasy, but she wasn’t really sure she was ready for that.
Early the next morning, Mary Beth’s daughter, Miranda, called and asked Carrie to spend the day at her house. Since it was Tuesday and time for summer kids’ movies, Jenny couldn’t say no. Her young charge deserved a break for working like a trouper. She’d stocked the shelves and tidied up the place to the point where even the dust motes fled in terror. The accumulation of odds and ends in the basement had waited this long for attention—they could wait a few more days.
Promptly at eleven o’clock, Jenny unlocked the front door. To her surprise, Herb was her first customer. The look on his face as he did a double-take on the room thrilled her to pieces.
‘You really have changed things.’ His gaze landed on her herbal product display. ‘Was that the pie safe from the basement? It looks completely different.’
‘It cleaned up nicely,’ she said, remembering its condition only a few days ago. It had been stuffed with dog-eared ledgers, which they hadn’t taken time to read, and the doors had hung loosely on broken hinges. ‘I’m still amazed at what we found underneath all the old wax. It turned out to be a real treasure.’
His voice sounded flat. ‘Yeah. A treasure.’
She got to business. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I came by to see if you’ve run across some papers of mine. I’d run out of room at home, so Earl let me store a few boxes in the basement.’
‘I’m afraid I�
��ve contributed to the mess down there,’ she told him. ‘If you want to look for them yourself, good luck.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. Twenty minutes later, he returned. ‘They weren’t where I thought they’d be.’
‘We’ve been moving things around to get to the furniture, so I’m not surprised. When we start cleaning, I’ll keep my eyes open.’
‘I hate to make you go to the trouble on my account. I’ll drop in again soon to dig around for myself. The papers aren’t that important, but I’d hate to lose them. You know how the IRS can be when it comes to documentation for taxes.’
‘I will,’ she promised. In the next breath, she gave in to her impulsive question. ‘By the way, I wanted to ask you about my uncle’s bookkeeping.’
His black eyes grew wary. ‘Yeah? What about it?’
‘I noticed some discrepancies between the invoiced drugs and our inventory. We seem to be missing a great deal of stock.’
He visibly bristled. ‘I don’t recall anything missing before. If you’re trying to pin something on me—’
‘I’m not accusing you of anything,’ she said, taken aback by his sudden hostility. ‘The errors seemed too big to be clerical errors. I just thought you might have an explanation.’
He lifted his chin. ‘I don’t. Earl handled all the paperwork.’
She pressed on, hoping he’d drop a clue. ‘Could he have loaned his stock to another pharmacy?’
He frowned. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘I don’t know. It was just a thought.’
‘Come to think of it, I do recall him saying something about it once. But he took care of the details, so I can’t help you,’ he reiterated, edging toward the door. ‘If anything, you found some oversights. Your uncle didn’t always function on all cylinders.’
She didn’t like his innuendo. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Earl sometimes hit the hard stuff. He said it relaxed him. Take it from me, he came to work some days awfully relaxed.’
She stared at him, speechless for the few moments it took to understand his meaning. ‘I don’t believe my uncle was an alcoholic.’
He shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
‘Why haven’t I heard this before now?’
‘I covered for him. Not many people knew he hit the sauce. I was probably the only one. So if there are mistakes in the books, they were probably made on the days when Earl wasn’t himself.’
‘When did this start?’ she asked, unable to grasp the idea of her uncle inebriated. If he hadn’t touched a drop of liquor during the years of his stressful and loveless marriage, she couldn’t imagine what had recently driven him to drink. ‘Why?’
Once again, Herb shrugged. ‘I wasn’t his psychiatrist.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d stay and visit, but I’m due at work.’
Her mind raced to sort through the new information. ‘Sure. Thanks for stopping by.’
‘You’ll let me know if you find those boxes before I can look for them myself?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
As soon as he’d left, Jenny went to her desk. Herb’s accusation couldn’t be true, but curiosity forced her to examine the ledgers.
Sure enough, the handwriting on certain days was more scrawled than on others. She’d thought it had meant her uncle’s arthritis had flared up but, armed with Herb’s news, she feared otherwise.
An unwelcome realization hit her and a new load of guilt landed on her shoulders. Had alcohol been a factor in his fatal accident? Had he not been able to deal with his financial problems?
By leaving him alone for so long, pushing him out of her life, had she inadvertently been responsible for his death?
To Jenny’s relief, she didn’t have to preserve a brave front for Carrie’s sake, but she still had to maintain some semblance of normalcy to her customers. It took every ounce of will-power in her body to make it through her day.
Too upset to eat during her lunch-break, she reached for the phone to call Noah. However, before she dialed the number, she realized what she was doing. She was about to pour out her troubles to him, which mean that at some point in the past few weeks she’d crossed the line defining their relationship. He wasn’t a casual acquaintance any more. He’d suddenly become important—someone she could confide in, someone who would listen and be supportive, someone whose opinion she valued. When had she stepped over the boundaries she’d originally set for him?
And what did that mean? Was she falling in love with Noah?
She replaced the receiver as her mind staggered under the impact of her new-found knowledge. She didn’t know what troubled her more—the mystery surrounding her uncle or her new attitude toward Noah. Although both issues presented unexpected complications, the situation with Noah would have longer-lasting consequences. If she grew to depend on him—to love him—it would be so hard to walk away. Almost impossible…
The doorbell broke her concentration and she reluctantly postponed her soul-searching to greet her customer. With any luck, she’d have her thoughts and feelings in order before she saw Noah this evening.
‘I’m a diabetic,’ the forty-five-year-old man announced as she gave him her attention. He wore faded blue jeans, a blue T-shirt and a Chicago Cubs baseball cap. ‘My glucose meter is on its last legs and I need a new one.’
‘What brand do you have now?’ she asked.
He gave her the particulars. ‘I’ve had it a long time. In fact, I bought it when I was first diagnosed. That’s been…’ he scratched his head ‘…ten, twelve years, I’d say.’
‘That model isn’t made any more. There are several much more accurate ones on the market now. Take this one, for instance.’ She pulled a unit off the shelf and placed it on the nearest counter. ‘It uses less blood, is quicker, and holds its calibration longer. Also, the strips cost less than other brands so it’s cheaper to operate in the long run.’
His eyes brightened. ‘No kidding?’
‘Yes. Here’s how it works.’ She took time to demonstrate its features, explain its memory capabilities, and discuss the storage of the strips and calibrator solutions.
‘If you have any problems with it,’ she said at the conclusion of her sales pitch, ‘bring it back and I’ll see if I can sort things out for you.’
‘Sold!’ he said, whipping out his check-book to sign his name—Rodney Meder—with a steady hand.
A long-haired, buxom peroxide blonde in her early twenties passed him on his way out. Rodney’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he slowed his pace to plainly enjoy the view she presented.
Her black leather skirt barely covered her buttocks and her scoop-necked black vest-top clung to her chest as if she’d been poured into it. A rose tattoo was visible on her collar-bone and several other roses graced her arms and ankles. A pair of strappy high heels revealed red-painted toenails, and a silver bracelet circled one ankle. She’d covered her face liberally with make-up and two small silver hoops pierced her left eyebrow.
Jenny could only guess at what other body parts had been pierced as well, and she cringed at the thought of enduring the process.
The phone rang and she excused herself to answer it.
‘How’s it going today?’ Noah asked in her ear.
Conscious of her customer waiting for service, Jenny didn’t go into detail. ‘I’ve had my moments.’
‘Busy?’
‘Right now, I am.’ It wasn’t the time to mention Herb’s revelation.
‘Then I’ll keep this short,’ he said, his tone becoming businesslike. ‘Harriet Winkler just left my office. Two weeks ago, I started her on allopurinol. I want her to continue with the same daily 300-mg tablet.’
‘For how long?’
‘Thirty days. I may decrease it in two weeks, but if I do she can cut the pills in half. We’ll see how her labs look. She’ll be in shortly to pick it up.’
‘I’ll have it ready.’
‘Are we still on for this evening?’
‘Absolutely.’ She did
n’t mean to sound frantic or worried, but she obviously did because his voice became concerned. She imagined a worry wrinkle on his forehead.
‘Is everything OK?’ he asked.
Jenny eyed the woman who was lingering by the herbal remedies. ‘Yes. No. Maybe. Not really.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll tell you about it tonight.’
She replaced the receiver, drew a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face. ‘Hello.’
‘Hi!’ The girl popped the gum in her mouth. ‘I need a prescription filled.’
Jenny accepted the slip of paper and deciphered the handwriting as a request for an anti-protozoal medication. Immediately, she guessed the woman had a Trichomonas vaginalis infection.
‘It will be just a few minutes,’ she advised her. ‘You can either wait or come back.’
The girl popped her gum again. ‘I’ll wait.’
Jenny checked the name recorded. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t read your last name.’
‘It’s Budd. My name’s Rose Budd.’ Rose smiled as she popped her gum. ‘It’s my stage name. Kinda cute, isn’t it?’
‘Very unusual,’ Jenny agreed, understanding the significance of the rose tattoos over her body. ‘You’re not from around here, are you?’
‘I’m only in town for a few days. I’m dancing over at The Ruby Slipper this week. If you’re free, drop in tonight and bring your friends.’
‘Thanks for the invitation,’ Jenny said with a straight face as she carefully counted out the prescribed amount of tablets. She’d seen the ads in the paper featuring this week’s draw-card of strippers. ‘Unfortunately, I have other plans.’
‘Too bad. Maybe you can make it Friday. The club will have something special for everyone.’ Rose winked.
Jenny doubted if Rose’s idea of ‘something special’ matched hers. The fellows who managed to book a private showing with Rose would take home more than just a pleasant memory. They’d have the dubious honor of paying twice for their evening—once to Rose and once to their doctor. It would be interesting to see how many Springwater men would drop by in the weeks ahead to fill similar prescriptions.
Prescriptions and Promises Page 10
