She grinned as they strolled through the festival, apparently on their way back to Josh’s rig. “Ya, Christmas was kind of my parents’ theme. Mamm went into labor with me on Christmas Day, and I was born a day later.”
“You were born on Second Christmas?”
“I was. My sister, Ivy, was born almost two years later on December twenty-first, and my brother, Red, was born two years after that on December twenty-ninth. Though technically he’s named after my Daed, Ezra. I was born at home, and because of the holiday, my parents had a lot of extended family visiting, all waiting in anticipation for me, the firstborn of my parents’ relatively new marriage. They had married ten months earlier. The story is that after recovering from the daylong birthing process, my Mamm and Daed paraded me, all swaddled tight, and placed me on blankets on the table in the center of the Christmas wreath, among all the decorated foods and Christmas cards. It’s why my community still calls me Holly Noelle, though I prefer just Holly.” She smiled, remembering all the times her Daed had told the story.
Josh beamed back at her. “That’s quite the birth story.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any stories that interesting. I’m afraid that by the time I came along as kid number thirteen, my parents pretty much put a basket in my hands immediately and said, ‘Go to work and help your siblings gather eggs.’ Not a lot of excitement there.”
Holly pointed at him. “I don’t believe that for a second. I saw how your parents fussed over you.”
He laughed. “I was kind of blocking that out and hoping you’d forgotten.”
“No such luck, Joshua Smucker the first.”
He groaned while still chuckling. “You’d have to go back at least two hundred years, maybe two thousand, to find the first Joshua Smucker.”
“True. And we might need to travel to Europe to figure out if that name crossed over with the Amish or if it began in America.” She snapped her fingers. “Add it to our list, Josh.”
She’d meant it to be funny, but he glanced at her, looking a bit confused.
You are here to work, Holly. But it was so easy to fall into joking and laughing with him. Still, it wasn’t right or fair to behave as if she were open to dating him. She could never be available for more than friendship.
But Josh needed to find someone, and suddenly a solution sprang to mind. Since he got along with her, he would get along with Ivy. And he’d mentioned being interested in music. That would go great with Ivy’s annual caroling project, which she would start soon.
They climbed into the rig. Taking the reins, Josh turned to her. “So you want to resume our Sam Miller list by following some leads on Monday evening?”
“Actually, I was wondering what you were doing on Sunday evening. My sister, Ivy, is starting caroling practice for this year, and she could really use a strong male voice. If I’m recalling right, you’re a musician.”
“Well, as much of a musician as one can be while tending chickens all day and living in a community that forbids musical instruments. But, ya, I do enjoy singing. That sounds like fun.” He smiled at her before looking away, cheeks a bit flushed.
Despite herself, she could feel heat creep up her own cheeks. For both their sakes, he needed to connect with Ivy.
Brandon was on hold with yet another doctor’s office trying to reach any doctor who might have seen a Sam Miller. Thank goodness the full stringency of the HIPAA laws didn’t prohibit communication between a patient’s pharmacy and the doctor’s office. This was the fifteenth office he’d tried this week. Finally the bland on-hold music stopped, and the line clicked.
“This is Nikki, Dr. Smith’s nurse. I was looking in our computer system, and it appears we do have a patient named Sam Miller.”
Thank You, God. “Excellent. The receptionist may have told you, but this is Brandon over at Greene’s Pharmacy in Raysburg, Pennsylvania. I need to know if Dr. Smith prescribed five different heart medications for Mr. Sam Miller. Our pharmacy is missing some information on the prescriptions.” Brandon readied a pen to write down anything she might tell him, hoping she would confirm this was the right patient.
“Oh, hmm. I’m not seeing any information that this Mr. Miller is on any heart meds. What’s his birthday? We may be talking about a different patient.”
Brandon sighed. Of course. “I’m afraid that is part of the info we’re missing. This Sam Miller is probably around fifty, and he’s Amish.”
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid we must be talking about a different patient. I saw our Mr. Miller two weeks ago. He is definitely not Amish. Are you sure you have the right practice?”
“No, unfortunately I’m not.” Brandon stifled a scream of frustration.
“Oh. Well…good luck with what you’re looking for.” Click.
Apparently even chipper nurses had a limit to their patience, not that Brandon could blame her. He was annoyed too.
He hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. Four o’clock. Holly was still at some Amish fall festival looking for Sam Miller. Luckily they had Sandy, their part-time tech, who was reasonably fast, and of course Todd, who had years of experience on the bench. The pharmacy didn’t seem behind. He logged off the computer, and then a random thought struck. Maybe in his dad’s confusion he had put a note in that day’s financial ledger instead of the proper place. Brandon headed toward the storage room.
He walked into the small room, pulled out the large finance book, and set it on the desk. He flipped through it until he found October, which was toward the end of the large tome. No notes appeared to be tucked in the book as he turned the pages, but a number in red ink jumped out at him at the bottom of October’s financial overview.
That can’t be right. He can’t be that far behind. He flipped back to September, then August, then July. Each month the pharmacy was barely breaking even. How on earth could Greene’s be so busy and so unprofitable?
He closed the book and tucked it under his arm and then headed up the stairs to look for his father. He knocked and opened the door. “Dad?” Brandon called out, entering the apartment.
“Back here, Son.”
He followed the sound of his dad’s voice to the small “office” that was mostly filled with aging books on pharmaceutical studies and outdated business practices. Dad had apparently been on the phone, and he put the cordless handset for the home line back in its base.
Dad grimaced. “I was calling a few other pharmacies in our area to see if they had filled anything for our patient. Nothing.”
“Yeah, same here. I’m afraid I had no success in finding Sam’s doctor today.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am about this whole thing.” He leaned back in the creaking leather chair. “Today I also started the process of filing to get some extra security footage from a third-party company. They put their cameras in the pharmacy a few months ago, but I let the contract lapse last month. It’s lots of paperwork, and it may not lead to anything.”
Brandon wasn’t sure whether to step inside the office or wait at the door. “I’m sure we’ll figure out what happened. Maybe Holly was successful today. But I wanted to ask you about something else. I had an idea that maybe the missing script note was filed in the wrong place, so I opened your financial ledger.”
His father groaned. “I really wish you hadn’t. The pharmacy’s finances are my business.”
Brandon walked forward and placed the book in front of his father. “Look, you want Greene’s Pharmacy to meet the needs of this community, but I’m concerned you aren’t modernizing in ways that could help you stay open.”
“If modernization means not taking care of my patients, then I’m not interested. I’ll find a way to stay open.”
“While making no headway toward saving for retirement? That’s not okay, Dad. I’m not talking about getting rid of your Amish patients or even charging them more. The other day I
used the pharmacy’s log-in info to look at the official CMS.gov site, and Greene’s has only three of five stars. The good news is the public can’t see that. It’s only for insurance companies, the government, and professionals within the industry. Remember that your rating determines how much the insurance companies can charge you to keep your insurance contracts every month. A bad rating can cost even a small pharmacy more than six figures in a year.”
Dad waved his hand as if to dismiss the notion. “I don’t have time to keep up with the games the politicians dream up. Stars. Sounds like those video games you used to play when you were a kid. It’ll be something different soon enough.”
“Maybe. But until then you really should keep up with these things. Right now you’re losing money on every Medicare script you fill. Those patients make up a large portion of your non-Amish customers.”
“And you know how to get that rating up?”
“I have some good ideas of where to start. For one, when you give medicines away, you still have to document it for the insurance companies. Otherwise, they think the patients aren’t taking their meds every month, and you get dinged on compliance. Also, when was the last time you gave an immunization?” Brandon started to cross his arms, but he lowered them, hoping to keep his posture humble.
The last thing he wanted to do was come across as if he thought he was a better pharmacist. He wasn’t for a lot of reasons, starting with the fact that he would never have his dad’s dedication or stamina to give so selflessly. But his dad was lacking in areas that were Brandon’s forte. Dotting i’s and crossing t’s to satisfy the higher-ups came naturally for him, which was good, because corporate pharmacists daily dealt with long lists of such matters.
Dad shrugged. “Most people would rather their doctor immunize them.”
“Some. But you have the potential of making good money offering flu shots for your insured patients.”
“Brandon, don’t you think we have enough going on right now with this lost information? Can this stuff wait?”
“That’s the problem. When you run a pharmacy, there are always issues that come up. You need to make time to look at this with me.”
“You win. I will. Soon.”
Brandon stifled a sigh. Soon, later—same thing, Dad, and it means not now, which means never. “Okay. Do you need anything?”
“Haven’t I seemed capable of taking care of myself over the last few weeks? I’m good. I’m going to make a few more phone calls.”
Brandon nodded and exited the room, leaving the money ledger on the desk and closing the door behind him. Though they had made real progress in their relationship, the old strain was still there. If only he could come up with a good plan to help his dad understand modern pharmacy practices. Maybe Mila would have some ideas. He pulled out his cell, went to Favorites, and pushed her name, which was the top entry.
“Heeey!” She sounded rather high spirited. The background noise made it seem as if she was standing in the wind.
“Hey, what are you up to?” Brandon smiled, thinking of her long hair blowing in the wind.
“Impromptu road trip.” He heard a female voice giggling in the background. “Katy and Laura from school sprang it on me. It’s my three-day weekend off. That must sound like a foreign language to you.”
“Yeah. Look, do you have a minute to talk, or can you call me back later?”
“It’s really hard to hear you right now, and calling later will be hard to do tonight. We’re going to a newly opened restaurant and then a country music concert. Katy even brought me a cowboy hat.” More giggling. “I would have invited you, but I already knew what your answer would be.”
“True. We can talk later. Have fun.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” The phone beeped as the call cut off.
He lowered the phone, staring at it. If they actually managed to talk tomorrow, he’d be surprised. Whenever one of them called to talk, the other one was too busy. That’s how it’d been for the last two weeks. He was beginning to think that wherever he was, he didn’t fit—not here in work-hard-for-no-money Raysburg or in the carefree lifestyle Mila had built for herself in the city.
Feeling rather displaced, he shoved the phone into his pocket. He needed a walk.
Joshua lifted his voice to sing the countermelody of the chorus of “The First Noel” and was satisfied that he’d hit the right notes, making a pleasant harmony with the melody most of the carolers were singing.
“Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel, born is the King of Israel.”
“Excellent job, Snow Buntings!” Ivy clapped her hands. Earlier when she was stepping onto a wooden box that appeared to have once held vegetables, she explained that she needed to stand there so everyone could clearly see her hand motions and so she could make eye contact as needed. The small singing group of about fifteen was arranged on benches in what was usually a craft shop, with the large tables pushed aside to make room.
“Do we have to be called the Snow Buntings?” a male voice called out. Snickering followed.
“Ya, we do. I’m the leader, so I get to pick. Our youth group is the Finches, and snow buntings are also songbirds, but that name gives us a Christmasy feel.”
Another singer groaned, and several more laughed.
Ivy held her hands up to call the group to order. “Josh, thanks for doing that part I asked you to sing. You’ll have to teach the rest of the men that part.”
“Sure,” he mumbled, not caring much for the attention of the entire group on him. Ivy had asked him to sing the countermelody, but he didn’t count on her drawing attention to him about it. He glanced over to the women’s section of the choir. Where did Holly go? When he’d arrived, he’d spotted her across the room. Their eyes had locked, and she smiled, but all they managed was a wave before Ivy brought the gathering to order, putting the men on one side and the women on the other.
“Very gut.” Ivy smiled as she lowered her arms from directing the singers. “This may be the best-sounding group of carolers we’ve had yet.” Ivy squinted, looking at a clock on the far wall. “Ach. Sorry. I’ve run thirty minutes past when I said I would end the practice, so that’s it for today. Thanks for coming. You can stack your lyric sheets on this crate. Remember, the weekly singles singing for tonight is at Amity’s home in about…ten minutes. See you all next week!” She hopped off her crate.
The singers started chattering among themselves as they made their way toward the door and stacked their papers as instructed. Joshua hung back, waiting for the room to clear so he could talk to Ivy. This was a good place for caroling practice. There were several long tables that were covered in craft items and pushed against the walls, so he figured it was an oversize room for making Amish crafts.
When the room thinned out, he placed his music sheets on the pile. But several of the girls stayed to talk with Ivy. He still hadn’t seen Holly. Maybe Ivy knew where she was, but Ivy was still talking with a few of the choir members. When she finished her conversation and waved goodbye to them, Joshua approached her.
“Hey, Josh. Denki for coming.”
“No problem. It was fun.” As much as he loved all things related to music, he didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy the medium. “But…I’m really only here because Holly invited me.” He looked across the room once more. “Where did your sister disappear to?”
Displeasure seemed to fill Ivy’s eyes. “Ya, about that.” She sighed and held up a lyric sheet. “Apparently she passed this to one of the singers next to her, and that person passed it to me a few minutes ago when everyone was turning in their lyric sheets.” Ivy gave the paper to him. There was a note written on the back: “I’m really tired, and I’ve got work early tomorrow. Josh is a great guy, and I know he won’t mind taking you home after practice. u—Holly”
“I saw her leaving and tried to mouth for her to stay, but I didn’t want to int
errupt our rehearsal by drawing attention to sibling stuff. Because if she was doing what I thought, we would’ve argued right then and there.” Ivy rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you realize what is going on here every bit as much as I do.”
Oh. Joshua felt his cheeks burn. Holly hadn’t invited him to caroling practice so she could spend time with him outside of work-related tasks. She was passing him off to her sister.
Ivy’s face mirrored his embarrassment. “Don’t worry. When I get home, I’ll let her have it. I should’ve suspected something earlier when she kept going on and on about you and how I would like you and how you love music and I love singing. I’m sorry.”
Joshua stared at the ground. “It’s not your fault. I’ll drive you home.” He drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Unless…Would you rather I drop you off at the youth singing?”
“Nee, but denki. Normally I do attend, but Mamm and I have a house cleaning scheduled at six tomorrow morning, and if I went to the singing, I wouldn’t be home until late.” She tapped her papers against the crate, stacking them neatly before she tucked the pile under her arm. “Shall we?”
They walked outside and toward Joshua’s waiting horse and rig. The other carolers had hurried off to get to the last of the games before the singing began.
“Ach. Just now thought of this, but”—Ivy opened the door to the carriage—“how do you have a horse and buggy here since you live so far away?”
Joshua held the door while she got in. He had intended to open it for her, but she beat him to it. “I had a driver drop me off at a cousin’s place. Still in the next district over but not too far from here. The horse and rig belong to him.”
Ivy’s eyes met his, and the look on her face said she understood exactly what he’d done and why. He closed the door and walked around to his side.
Rather than having the driver drop him off here, he’d borrowed a horse and rig, thinking he was going to have the privilege of driving Holly home or maybe riding around with her for a while, getting time alone. How stupid could he be?
The Christmas Remedy Page 12
