Waiting for Daybreak (2 page)
Paige took the prescription from the woman’s hand. When she looked at the words scrawled in black ink, she took care to keep her face solemn. “Of course, Mrs. Stonehenge.”
She hurried to the metal shelves, found the right bottle of pills on the lowest shelf, and tapped out a single capsule, blue on one side, clear on the other to reveal the dozens of blue and white beads inside. She put the capsule into a paper cup and rushed back to the woman. “There’s some water just around the corner.”
“Humph, if I live that long.” Mrs. Stonehenge grabbed the cup from Paige’s hand and bulldozed a path toward the water fountain.
Paige avoided eye contact with Rufus and began hammering out the label on their ancient typewriter. The behind-the-counter door squeaked and Rufus came to stand beside her.
“One of the funding sources for the foundation just dried up. So . . . no raises this year. That means you’ll stay on probationary pay, even though you’re off probation. In fact, after next month’s budgetary meetings, everyone will likely take a pay cut.”
The homeless clinic offered a small enough salary as it was, and probationary pay was ten percent less.
Don’t they understand
that my mother has cancer and my parents can’t keep up with the
bills? Don’t they understand that I’m just now digging out of debt
from being unemployed?
“They can’t do that.”
“This clinic is run by a private charitable foundation. They can do whatever they wish—including withdrawing all funding if it suits them. Given some of the rumors floating around here, I’d say we need to be grateful they’re still paying us at all.”
“Grateful? I have responsibilities. I need that money.”
“That’s the way life works. May as well accept that while you’re young, because it’ll only get worse by the time you’re my age.” He let himself out of the pharmacy without another word.
Mrs. Stonehenge returned, still thumping against her chest, but no longer wheezing. “Good thing that stuff works so quick. I thought I was a goner there for a minute.”
Paige forced herself to smile, although she felt her irritation rising. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Oh, child, just pray you never get as sick as I am.”
The woman walked away, carrying her bottle of placebos that she believed to be a miraculous heart remedy. Sometimes just a little positive thinking worked better than medicine.
A good thing
to keep in mind.
“I’ve been watching you work the last few weeks. You’re good with people.”
Paige startled, having forgotten all about the man with the measuring tape in the back of the pharmacy. She wondered how much of the conversation with Rufus he’d overheard. “It’s just part of the job.”
“Maybe so, but some people have a gift for it, and some people don’t. Name’s Lee, by the way.”
“I’m Paige.”
“Well, Paige, my granddaughter’s a pharmacist in Shoal Creek— she’s brilliant when it comes to all the medical stuff, but dealing with the public is not exactly what you’d call her strong suit. You should go to work for her, so she could learn by example.”
“What, and miss all this?”
He smiled as he pushed open the glass door that led to the lobby, then stopped at the customer counter. “You think about it over the weekend. I’ll be back sometime next week, we’ll talk more about it.”
Paige laughed to herself. She’d think about it, all right. How could she help but be charmed by the man who thought he could hire help for his granddaughter? She must be a very lucky girl to come from such a supportive family.
Clarissa Richardson pulled into her father’s driveway. Even in the late winter, the lawn looked manicured and inviting, the French country exterior warm and welcoming. The warmth and welcome ended right about there. Her fingers itched to turn the car around. But she couldn’t.
She needed to get this done now. Most likely, her father and newest stepmother were either hosting a Friday night gathering or preparing to go to one. She should be able to make a quick getaway.
Alejandra, dressed in the usual black skirt and white apron, met her at the door. “They’re on the sun porch, miss.”
“Thank you.” Clarissa walked toward the glassed-in room at the rear of the house, where she found her father and Becky sipping cocktails. “Care to join us, sh-weetheart?” he slurred, eyes already starting to glaze.
Few things were more unbearable than Clarissa’s snockered father, and since Becky was one of those things, the invitation held absolutely no temptation. “No, thanks. I just stopped by to pick up that set of china from the attic. I’m trying to get my condo all set up so I can get in touch with my domestic side.”
“Good for you, sh-weetie.”
Becky, wearing a skin-tight black skirt and a low-cut silk blouse, walked across the room and poured a healthy serving from the pitcher. “I had Alejandra empty all the stuff out of the attic last week so we could sift out the junk. Most of the boxes are still stacked in the garage. You may have to look around.”
“Okay.”
The doorbell chimed. Which group of social climbing, backstabbing acquaintances was coming over tonight?
Clarissa’s uncle walked into the room, debonair as always, his boyish charm creating a welcome contrast to the overstuffed atmosphere. He looked at her and shoved his bangs away from his eyes. “Sweet Pea, no one told me you were going to be here. I’d have come a little earlier if I’d known.”
“Tony!” She threw her arms around him.
“You look beautiful. The pharmacy business must be agreeing with you.”
“Well, you need a haircut, so the construction business must not be agreeing with you.” She laughed, then drew back from the hug. “What are you doing here?”
Surely you’re not spending a Friday
night with these two.
“Just talking a little business with your dad.” He sat in an upholstered rattan chair and patted the one beside it. “Sit down.
Tell me how things are going down south.”
“What kind of business?” Clarissa knew her family too well to believe that this gathering was some nonimportant issue. More than just age separated Tony and her father. They never saw each other socially. Something was up.
“Weren’t you heading toward the garage?” Becky looked at her pointedly.
“As a matter of fact I—”
“I’ll walk with you, Sweet Pea.” Tony, ever the peacemaker, started for the hallway, pulling Clarissa along before she said something she’d perhaps regret not regretting.
They found the garage and both began looking through boxes.
Tony said, “Our little meeting should be done in an hour or so. You want to come over and hang out? Pizza and a movie?”
“I’m meeting some friends downtown. Join us. You need to get out more.” It was true. Besides, he was dressed for it. Nice jeans. Simple polo. Great shoes. He was more of a handsome older brother than an uncle.
“I’m too far past my prime for carousing. Your old uncle can’t keep up like he used to.”
You kept up just fine before the divorce.
“Don’t use that ‘old uncle’ stuff on me. You may be my uncle, but you’re not that much older than I am.”
“There’s a lot of difference between thirty and twenty-two. Trust me.”
“I’m twenty-five, and no there’s not.” She got to the final pile of boxes and looked through them all again. “I don’t see it anywhere. Guess I’ll have to go ask the step-monster.”
He followed her back down the hallway. “So . . . you never answered my question.”
“What question?”
“How are things going with the pharmacy?”
She shrugged. “About like you’d expect, I suppose.”
“You know, Dad only wants the best for you.”
“I know, but I wish he’d told me what he thought was ‘best’ before I declined that residency at Johns Hopkins. I stayed because I wanted to open a
Parrish Apothecary
franchise, in
Nashville
, in the
exact building
where Grandma used to work. I know that probably sounds ungrateful, but don’t you think he could have let me know his plans sometime before graduation day?”
When they neared the sun porch, Becky’s nasal voice echoed down the hallway. “I’m telling you, he’s giving it all away. There won’t be anything left of an inheritance if he doesn’t stop it. Maybe we should look into his mental state. Has he been seeing a shrink? A doctor? Anything?”
“Good idea. We should look into that.”
A low growling noise came from Tony’s throat as they turned the corner. “Dad’s as sane as anyone and you know it. He earned his money, he has the right to do with it as he sees fit.”
Clarissa understood the meeting now. It was all about trying to keep Granddad’s money in the family and out of the ledgers of charities nationwide. Since Grandma’s death three years ago, his way of dealing with the pain had been through philanthropy— something that caused her father increasing alarm. Something that had also sentenced Clarissa to a pharmacy in a podunk town, with parole only possible after a year of good behavior. Or more correctly, after a year of meeting nearly unattainable goals.
As much as she felt bad about abandoning Tony to face all this alone, she knew better than to stay. She needed to get her stuff and get out. “Becky, I didn’t find the box in the garage. Is there somewhere else it would be?”
Becky gasped. “I hope you didn’t mean that old set of Wedgwood that was in the back corner.”
“Of course that’s what I meant.”
Becky contorted her face into the fakest look of shock Clarissa had ever seen. “I got rid of it.”
“You what?”
“I sold it to that used china shop several weeks ago. I’m sure those place settings are scattered all across Tennessee by now. I never realized you wanted it.”
“It said ‘Save for Clarissa’ all over the box in big red letters.”
“Did it? You know how it is, after a few hours all those boxes start looking alike. I must have missed it somehow.”
“That china belonged to my grandmother. She gave it to me. It was
mine.
”
“Then maybe you should have stored it yourself, rather than leaving it to clutter things around here.” Becky took a long swallow of the drink in her hand and looked evenly at Clarissa. She’d taken Grandma’s china, just to prove she could. “I really am sorry. Just an honest mistake.”
There was no
honest
or
mistake
about it. Clarissa looked at Becky’s throat and pictured her hands wrapped around it, squeezing with every ounce of her strength.
“You know what, Sweet Pea, downtown sounds like a good idea, after all. Come on, I’ll walk you out to the car, and we’ll figure out where to meet up.” Tony took her arm and gently pulled her away from the room.
He waited until she climbed into her car to say anything more. “I’ll call you on my cell when we’re done here. Believe me, it won’t be long. I can’t deal with this, even if he is my brother.”
“Tell me about it.” She turned the key in the ignition. “Okay, I’ll be waiting for your call. No backing out this time, promise?”
“Promise.”
As she pulled from the driveway, she could still see him in her rearview mirror, standing on the porch of her father’s home. It suddenly occurred to her that of all the people she’d ever loved or who had ever loved her, her uncle Tony was all she had left.
Paige made the hour commute from the Nashville Clinic to her parents’ home every few weeks, yet it didn’t surprise her a bit that the first thing she noticed when she pulled into the driveway was the white paper banner taped to her parents’ white garage door. WELCOME HOME PAIGE.
Ever since her mother had taken an adult ed computer class, she looked for excuses to demonstrate her prowess at the printer. This particular banner consisted of four sheets of paper taped together, with hot pink letters making up the words and a picture of a banana split printed faintly in the background. A masterpiece of clip art if ever her mother had created one.
In the front bay window she saw her old lab, Dusty, push himself up on his three good legs to bark. Her father came to peek, disappeared, then flung open the front door. “There’s my girl.” He came down the porch steps as fast as his arthritis would let him. “I am so glad to see you.” He put his arms around her and didn’t let go. There was a hint of desperation in that hug.
“Dad, are you all right?”
“It’s going to be okay, Paige, it’s going to be okay. We’re gonna get through this just fine.”
Get through this? When her mother’s cancer relapsed three months ago, it had been hard on all of them. But something else was going on here, something fresher. Something worse. “What are we going to get through?” She pulled back so that she could look at her father’s face.
He squinted his eyes against the March sun. “Your mother . . . she did call you, right?” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at Paige. “I was sure she called you.”
“What was she supposed to call me about?” Fingers of dread began to wrap around Paige’s heart. When she looked into her father’s eyes and saw the absolute despair in them, the fingers began to squeeze. Hard. This could only mean one thing.
“The treatment’s not working this time. Doctor says we’re almost out of options, but he’s looking into some clinical trials. He said he’d call us on Monday and let us know if he could find anything.”
She wanted so much just to collapse against her car. Anything that could support her. But she knew what that’d do to her father. “Well, all right then. That’s what we’re aiming for.” She squared her shoulders. “Where is she?”
“Out back, sitting on her bench.”
Paige nodded. “I’ll go talk to her.” She reached down to pet Dusty. “Come on, boy.”
He hobbled alongside her around the back of the house and across the weathered patio. The surface was faded and worn from years of family picnics, roller skating, and late evening gab sessions. How could the same woman whose joy of life could wear out concrete be losing the fight to keep that life?
Her mother was seated on the bench at the corner of the property, in the dull shade of her favorite oaks. Her eyes were closed, her hands clasped in her lap. Was she resting or praying? Dusty went to lie at her feet, while Paige sat beside her. “Hi, Mom.”