Waiting for Daybreak (14 page)
Ora crossed her arms, her lips set firm. “Nonsense. You came here for some reason, right? Get on with it. Don’t mind me. I’m just waiting for my coffee.”
“Your coffee?”
“Yep. Name’s Ora Vaerge, by the way.” She extended a hand.
Cory shook it. “Uh, pleased to meet you. Cory Griffin’s mine.”
“You like coffee, Cory? Paige always makes a pot.” She looked over his shoulder toward Paige. “Go ahead and get it started. I’ll keep young Cory company in the meanwhile.”
Paige held her giggle until she got to the coffeepot, then allowed her shoulders to shake with the force of it. It took all of her willpower to remain focused on coffee making. She really wanted to watch the exchange that was taking place behind her.
When the Mr. Coffee started sputtering, she walked out to the front in time to hear Ora saying, “I drink a cup with her every morning. She doesn’t make very good coffee, but I’m working with her on it.”
Paige laughed outright this time. “What can I say? I’m a slow learner.” She looked at Cory. “Sorry to keep you waiting. What’s up?”
“I . . . uh . . .” He looked toward Ora. She tilted her head ever so slightly toward Paige.
He licked his lips. “There’s a new deli on the other side of the square. You want to try it at lunch?”
Ora shifted in her seat. “Kids these days. No idea how to ask a girl for a date.”
Paige willed the earth to open up and swallow her right then. Could this be any more embarrassing? She looked at poor Cory and realized it was even worse for him. “Well . . . sure. I usually take my break about noon.”
“I can go anytime. Why don’t you just come find me upstairs when you’re ready?”
She nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Okay, see you then.” Cory nodded toward Ora, then walked out of the store.
Ora cackled. “That one’s got it bad, I’d say. Anytime they lose their tongue like that, you can count on it.”
“You’re the one who intimidated him into silence, not me.”
“Girl, you need to open your eyes.” Ora set down her cup. “I’d say he’s a prime candidate for the mystery flower man. Wouldn’t you?”
“You gave me the wrong stuff.”
Only the fourth customer of the day and disaster loomed. Paige felt her breath go shallow, her blood leave her hands as she looked at the middle-aged woman who stood across the counter. She wished the robot Paige would take over as she had once before. Today . . . the robot did not come to help. It was the flesh and blood Paige, the one who was terrified. Alone.
Put on
a professional face, be courteous, get to the truth
. Deep breath. “What seems to be the problem?” Her voice caught twice in the short sentence.
The woman smelled of sweat and fried foods, and she ran her fingers through her short, dirty curls. “I said—” her voice grew louder with each syllable “—you folks gave me the wrong thing. Like to have killed me, is what you did.”
Stay calm. Be professional. Turn and run.
Paige somehow managed to shut off the last voice and reached out her hand. “May I see that?”
The woman pulled her hand back. “You ain’t taking it from me.
I might want to show it to my lawyer, and this here is evidence.”
“I promise I’ll give it back to you, just let me take a look.”
The woman finally handed the bottle to Paige.
Take one tablet daily. Zebeta 10 mg.
Paige opened the container and saw the white, heart-shaped tablets with B3 on one side. She looked at the name on the prescription label. “Ms. Feldhouse, this
is
Zebeta 10 mg in your bottle. This is the correct medication.”
“No it’s NOT! I felt all light-headed this morning.”
Warmth seeped back into Paige’s fingers. This was not about mistakes. “That can be a side effect with Zebeta—most beta-blockers, in fact.”
“I’m sure you’re right. And if I needed a . . . whatever block, I’m sure I’d have to deal with that. But I don’t need no block.”
“Your doctor must think—”
“My doctor does
think
, you’re right about that. I went to see my doctor this morning. He says this stuff you gave me is for blood pressure. My blood pressure’s just fine—in fact he says that’s the reason I’m dizzy, because it’s too low after this stuff you gave me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I have high cholesterol. You were supposed to give me THIS.” She thrust a piece of paper in Paige’s face with the words
Zetia
10 mg
written on it.
Paige’s stomach knotted. “Ms. Feldhouse, why don’t you have a seat. I’ll pull out the prescription and call your doctor’s office. We’ll get this all straightened out.”
“Get
your mistake
straightened out. Yeah, why don’t you do that.” The woman remained at the counter. Paige frantically ran to the filing cabinet, praying that she would find the doctor’s handwritten prescription that called for Zebeta. She could show Ms. Feldhouse that the mistake was his, not theirs, call the office, get everything worked out. Soon she’d be going about her day, perhaps even with an apology from Ms. Feldhouse for being so rude.
She fingered through the numbered files until she pulled out the 25200 file. She set it on the counter and looked through until she found 25232. When she saw what was on the paper, she concentrated all her efforts on keeping her knees locked and her self upright.
The order had been called in to the pharmacy two days ago, taken on one of their blank pads. The handwriting was not Paige’s, for that she was thankful. But she also knew that it did not belong to Clarissa. That left one alternative.
Clarissa’s eyes looked red when she came into work that morning. “I think I’m catching a cold,” she sniffled and put her purse away.
Paige didn’t care if Clarissa had the pneumonia at this point.
But she knew she needed to wait until Dawn wasn’t around before she asked Clarissa about the prescription.
“Can I pay for this back here?” A teenager stood at the pharmacy counter, holding up a bottle of vitamins in her hand.
“Sure you can.” Dawn bounced down to the cash register and took the bottle from her hands.
Time to act. “Clarissa, I’ve got to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“Ms. Feldhouse came in this morning with a bottle full of Zebeta 10 mg. She’d been taking it a couple of days and felt a little light-headed.”
“Yeah, that’s a common side effect.”
“But
this
side effect was caused because she was taking an anti-hypertensive when she was supposed to be taking Zetia for her lipids.”
“What’d the doctor write for?”
“He didn’t write for it. He called it in.”
“Well, then it’s his word against ours. The doctor can say what he believes he called in, and no one can prove he did or he didn’t.
That’s the unfairness of it all. She’s all right, right? Ms. Feldhouse, I mean?”
“Yes, she is all right. But Clarissa . . .”
“What?”
“That prescription was phoned in on Tuesday. The handwriting belongs to Dawn. You promised me you wouldn’t leave Dawn alone anymore.”
“What, are you a handwriting expert now or something?”
“Come on, it doesn’t take a genius to recognize Dawn’s loopy cursive, especially since you always print.”
Clarissa crossed her arms. “Yeesh. Are we getting a little worked up here?”
“Yes, I’m worked up. It’s
illegal,
it’s
unethical,
and besides that it’s just plain wrong and you know it. There are reasons that only a pharmacist is supposed to take a phoned prescription. Someone could get hurt. Clarissa, if this happens again I’ll have no choice but to call Gary Powell and tell him what’s going on.”
“You can tell him how you lied to him the first time while you’re at it.” Clarissa’s cell phone chirped in her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at the display. “I need to take this.” She walked to the back room.
Dawn tried to concentrate on her work, but given Clarissa’s current mood it was difficult. Something had happened this morning, and Dawn hadn’t quite figured it out yet. Clarissa acted all nicey-nicey when Paige was around, smiling at her, talking to her, teasing her about some apparent dinner with her uncle. But as soon as Paige was out of earshot, Clarissa was nastier than ever. Dawn understood why Clarissa first disliked Paige—Clarissa’s grandfather had hired someone without even consulting her, for crying out loud—but she didn’t understand why the anger continued, and now seemed to grow worse. Given all the hours Clarissa had been working, you’d think she’d be a little more grateful for the help.
Clarissa sank into a chair. “That’s what I hate about retail. One minute you’re so busy you can’t even breathe. The next, there’s nobody here at all.” She squeezed her shoulder blades together. “All this standing makes my back hurt.”
Dawn stretched and picked up a refill label. “I know what you mean.”
“I wonder what’s taking Perky Paige so long. I’ve never seen her take more than fifteen minutes for lunch.”
“Oh, I bet she’ll take the whole time today. I saw her leaving with that Cory guy from upstairs.”
“What?” Clarissa tossed a paper clip across the counter. “I hate this place.”
Dawn stared at her, hoping to find some piece of this puzzle that was Clarissa’s mood today. She saw nothing. “You okay?”
“Peachy.” Clarissa went to the sink and washed her hands.
Paige walked into the pharmacy, carrying a single long-stemmed pink rose. She put the flower in a water bottle and put it on the front counter, humming beneath her breath.
Clarissa walked over and pretended to smell it, but Dawn had the distinct impression she wanted to grind the petals beneath her feet. “My, my. Yet another flower for our darling little Paige? Everyone loves Paige, don’t they?”
Paige stepped back and looked at her. “Clarissa, are you all right?”
Clarissa smiled and batted her eyes. “Just peachy. How about you?”
“I’ve got some not so great news.”
Paige rarely answered her cell at work, but when she’d seen her father’s name on the caller ID she panicked. His voice, though they’d just talked last night, had lost all its levity. She had noticed the change over the last few days. The strength seemed to be oozing out of him, like a slow bleed that could not be stopped. “What is it?”
“Your mom’s blood test came back positive for RSV. Stands for respiratory . . .”
“Respiratory Syncytial Virus.” Paige knew what it was. The infection would manifest itself as nothing more than a bad cold in a healthy adult, but in infants or people with compromised immune systems, from chemo, say, it could be deadly. Just the thought of her mother gasping for breath made Paige’s own lungs burn. “Is she having trouble breathing?”
“Not yet. Still just that same little cough she’s had for a while now. Seems to feel okay other than being sick from the chemo. She’s still upbeat as ever.”
“What are they doing for her?”
“Well, they’re putting her in this tent for a few hours at a time and giving her some sort of medicine through the air in there.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“I’m back at the apartment. They don’t want me in the room while they’re doing the tent treatment, I don’t really understand why. Even when they’re done I have to wear this big yellow gown and mask. I look like a giant banana when I go into her room. They said I can get—whatever it is she’s got—and even though it wouldn’t hurt me, I can spread it to other patients around here. They told me I might as well sleep back in the apartment because they’re going to come in and kick me out every few hours anyway, so that’s what I’m doing. Sitting here and waiting.”
“I know how that feels.”
“I never realized just how bad it was for you to be back there, just waiting for information, not being able to do anything about anything, until today. I’ve felt so helpless here all afternoon. I’ve taken to watching televangelists just to fill the time.”
“Oh, Daddy. What are we going to do?”
“Just keep praying. That’s all we can do. Doctor says it’s a good thing we caught it early—should only need treatment for a few days.”
“That’s good, at least.”
“Yeah. She wanted me to ask you how things are going. She’s so worried about you.”
“Worried about me? With everything she’s got going on?” Paige knew her mother well enough to know it was true. “She never thinks about herself, does she?”
“Honey, as far as she’s concerned, you are herself. You’re what she’s leaving behind when she goes—whether this cancer takes her or old age.”
“I vote for old age.”
“You and me both.”
Clarissa looked around at the pharmacy she’d built. Here, after closing, was when she loved it the most. The peace and quiet after a day hard fought.
She was going to show them all. She was the best person to run any pharmacy, and it was time everyone realized that. But she needed to take steps to protect herself. She couldn’t have Paige going to the board because of something as idiotic as a five-minute break.
Time to take the offensive. She pulled out a clean yellow legal pad and rubbed her hand across the smoothness of the top page.
“You are my new best friend.”
She sat at the desk and tapped the pencil on her chin.
Let’s
see, what should I write up first?
“I’m in a hurry.” The elderly man pulled on the straps of his overalls and rocked back and forth on his feet. “Could you make it quick?” His forehead creased with agitation, accentuating the lines baked into his skin by a lifetime of hard work in the hot sun.
Paige looked at the paper in her hand. “Mr. Pauling, is this a new medication for you, or have you been on it a while?”
He released one strap in order to slap his hand on the counter. “What’s it matter? Quit your blabbing, I ain’t got the time for it.”
Deep breath. Calm voice. Help him understand.
“It matters because the doctor didn’t write the strength. If you know what you take, I’ll fill it now and confirm with his office later. If you don’t, I have to call now.”
“I know what I take—the strong one. It’s kind of pinkish-orangish.”
A tug began to pull in her gut. “Have a seat. I’ll get this as soon as I can.” She picked up the phone.