Moonstone (4 page)

Joy glanced from Helen to Chloe and then slapped the coffeemaker soundly. A moment later the machine coughed into reluctant duty.

“Thank god,” Helen said.

“No kidding,” Chloe murmured. “I thought maybe it was a sign.”

Joy didn’t admit that she was thinking the same thing. She was ready to throw in the towel before she’d seen her first patient. “Okay, let’s get this day over. Who’s my first appointment?”

Helen hurried to the front desk and returned with a patient record and a grim smile. She motioned toward Exam Room One as she handed Joy the manila file. “Mr. MacDaniels. He’s a bit gruff and always shows up early. You might want to get him out of here sooner rather than later.”

Joy wanted a sip of coffee first, but she knew well enough to take a receptionist’s advice on difficult patients. She plastered a smile on her face and opened the exam room door. Benjamin MacDaniels was at least eighty and had been hard of hearing since 1995, according to a longhand notation her father had made in the record. Joy steadied her thoughts as she stared at the familiar handwriting.

Mr. MacDaniels had leaned the leather chair back as far as it would go and his eyes were closed. He didn’t open them at the sound of Joy’s cough. She cleared her throat a little louder and he cracked open his right eye. Joy stretched out her hand and he snorted. “We’ve already met. You realize I’ve been coming to see your father since before Ronald Reagan was president. We don’t need to shake hands. Your father used to keep you busy dusting the rooms.”

“Right, of course. It’s good to see you again,” Joy said, holding on to her smile. She settled into her chair and took a deep breath. “So, any change in your vision since the last time you were in?”

He tapped his ear. “Can’t hear a damn thing. Lost my hearing aid. You’ll have to shout.”

The office was a converted attic on the second floor. She unlocked the door but hesitated before opening it. When she did, she stared at the cramped space for a long moment before stepping inside. She’d avoided the office on her walk-through that weekend because it still felt like her father’s space regardless of the paperwork from the lawyers.

A bookcase covered one wall from floor to ceiling with books stacked end to end and then jammed on top of each other. The shelves sagged under the weight. Littered with stacks of papers, sticky notes and an ancient, hulking PC, the large desk claimed center stage. She glanced at the family photographs on the wall behind the desk. The photos were hung with multicolored thumbtacks and the color in most of them had faded. Her mother would have insisted that the pictures have frames and be properly hung, but this was Sam Henderson’s space, not hers.

The blinds were drawn on the one window in the room, and she pulled these open, catching the scent of her father’s cologne as she did. The scent was as unsettling as every line of her father’s handwriting that she’d deciphered that day. She pushed away the thought of getting the drapes professionally cleaned. The smell would lessen with time, as would the emotions that accompanied it. The office window had as perfect a view of the ocean as the lounge had but from one floor up. Joy leaned against the windowsill and stared at the water.

She’d cried at the funeral, of course. Afterward she’d wondered if in fact she’d cried because her father was gone or because she’d hardly known him. They’d never been close. Someday, she’d always thought, they’d find time to connect. But now she’d know her father’s patients, or at least their eyes, better than she ever knew him. His patient notes seemed a first glimpse into his thoughts. And here the memories were coming back. She heard his voice as she leaned against the glass and felt the tears well up. She didn’t wipe them away and they rolled off her cheeks and made wet smudges on the dusty sill.

At half past six, the sun was tipping the waves in gold and silver. The fog had burned off in time for a sunset. She turned away from the window and eyed the stack of paperwork and then the worn leather chair. The chair was too big, of course, and the armrests were worn in the wrong places. She reluctantly sat down where her father had always hunched and then realized how easy it was to look past the stack of bills at the setting sun. Her father never mentioned things like sunsets, but seeing how he’d angled the chair, she guessed he’d spent countless hours staring at perfect evenings exactly like this and daydreaming of things he’d never do. Six months, a year at most, and then she’d sell. She wasn’t going to get used to the view.

The office phone rang and Joy started at the sound of it. She picked it up and heard her mother’s voice on the line. She was checking on her all the way from Phoenix. “Hey, Mom.”

“I was worried you’d still be there working.”

“I’m about to leave,” Joy said. She glanced around the office. The paperwork could wait. “How’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Terrence is working overtime, so he’ll have time off when the new baby arrives. And the kids,” she paused. “They’re into everything. My suitcase at the moment. Vivian’s about to pop. She’s miserable with the heat and won’t leave the AC.”

“I don’t blame her. How hot is it?” Weather was always a safe topic with her mom.

“Over a hundred and it’s only May.” Mom cleared her throat. “Don’t tell anyone but I think I like the heat.”

Joy smiled. “Excuse to wear your sunhats?”

“I only brought one. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Terrence’s wife Vi was pregnant again. They were expecting kid number three in a month—one long month in the Arizona summer. Her mom had left for Arizona that morning. Up until the moment the plane left the ground, Joy guessed that she’d change her mind about going at all. She’d done nothing but worry about being away from home for too long. And that it was too soon to leave Raceda. Only two months had passed since the funeral and she’d been to the gravesite every Sunday to lay fresh flowers. Screams broke out and Joy recognized the sound of her nieces clamoring for their grandma.

“Sounds like you’re wanted.”

“Yes.” Mom sighed. “I know they need me here but four months is a long time to be away. I keep thinking of everything I forgot to take care of before I left. And all the things that I ought to be doing in Raceda. I still haven’t unpacked. The garage is filled with boxes. There’s no place for you to park. And the storage unit…”

“All of that can wait, Mom.” Joy knew she wasn’t only worrying about the boxes piled high in the garage or the storage unit jammed to the brim with everything of her dad’s that her mom couldn’t bear to sort through. “And I can take Dad flowers. You don’t have to worry about anything here. I can take care of it.”

“You’ll be too busy to get flowers.” Her mom started to say something about the rent being due on the first and a magazine subscription that she’d forgotten to cancel. Her words were lost in a new burst of shrill voices.

When the line finally quieted down, Joy said, “I can take care of everything. I promise. It’ll be fine here. You on the other hand…”

“Oh, I’m fine. I love the grandkids. All this noise is good for me.” Mom sighed. “The girls keep me from breaking down in tears every time something reminds me of Sam.”

“It’s okay to still be thinking of Dad,” Joy said. Her chest felt heavy as she said the words.

“I know.” She sniffed. “I’ve gotta go, sweetie. Don’t stay too late.”

Joy hung up the line. She stared at the phone for a moment and then tapped the letter opener on the stack of envelopes.
Don’t stay too late
. Too many times she’d heard her mom say those same words to her father. She tossed the letter opener aside and stood to stretch.

Joy locked the office and headed downstairs. Denise had stayed later than the others finishing up her own paperwork, but the lights were off now in the lounge and a note was taped to the inside of the front door. She unfolded the note and smiled when she read the words:
Good job today. Show up tomorrow and I’ll know you’re a keeper.

“A keeper,” Joy said aloud. “That’s me.” She folded the note. The words were straight from Sam Henderson. Denise had probably heard the phrase even more times than Joy had. She keyed her father’s birthdate to set the alarm and then slipped outside.

“Grounded.” That was the technical term Randy had used for why he couldn’t make it out of Santa Rosa. Kelsey listened to Randy’s nasally voice as he walked her through the steps to reboot the mainframe at True Derm.

“You’re not fourteen, Randy. Borrow someone’s car. Or rent one.”

“No can do,” Randy said. “Have you ever tried to rent a car with a DUI on your record? Besides, you got this one. It’ll be totally easy.”

“Totally easy. Yeah, right.” Kelsey sighed. She’d only planned on staying in Raceda for a few weeks. Only long enough to get her feet under her, she’d told her mom. But the sales job had fallen into her lap and plans changed quickly after that. She needed to work both as a distraction and because she was broke. When the interviewer at Alpine had asked how much sales experience she’d had, Kelsey didn’t try to exaggerate the truth. “None” was hard to embellish. Fortunately, a Stanford degree and a recommendation from an old friend who worked for the same company in their Albany office carried enough weight to get her in the door. They offered a bonus if she lasted the year. After two weeks of training, they’d let her loose with a handful of contacts that the last sales consultant had made before fleeing the fogbank for sunny Palm Springs. “Sales,” the interviewer had said, “is sink or swim.
”
Kelsey didn’t laugh at the irony of his words.

At first they’d kept close tabs on her, but after the first month she rarely heard from her boss. Her month-end reports were good according to her review. Great. She didn’t care. She sold computer software systems—nothing that was going to make the world a better place despite the company’s mantra.

“Randy, I’m a sales rep, not a tech guru.”

He snorted. “I like that. I’m gonna start calling myself Randy the Tech Guru.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ve got to get me through this mess first.” Kelsey smiled at the stern face of the dermatologist standing behind her. Dr. Reese. He’d just walked into the server room and his expression was easy to read. He was pissed. If there was anyone she needed to make happy, it was Dr. Reese. Aside from being second cousins with her boss, Dr. Reese seemed to know every other medical professional in town. Kelsey couldn’t afford an unhappy dermatologist who golfed.

On the second try, the reboot worked. Dr. Reese patted Kelsey’s shoulder and left to go see his next appointment. Randy wanted all the other computers in the network powered down and a full virus scan run. Kelsey eyed the time. No way could she finish before True Derm’s six o’clock closing time.

Kelsey went up to the receptionist’s desk and waited for the petite blonde with perfect skin to flash a wax smile up at her. “How can I help you?”

“I’m going to need someone to stay late with me,” Kelsey said. “Or I’ll need a key. Can you let Dr. Reese know that we have to run individual scans on all the computers after you’ve shut down tonight?”

The receptionist’s smile didn’t waver even as she shook her head. “That’s not possible. We close at six and no one stays late.”

Kelsey didn’t try to smile back. “We’ll need to make an exception. Can you let Dr. Reese know?” She walked past the reception desk and through the double doors to the nurse’s station. Fourteen workstations in all; she was looking at a long night. She dialed Randy’s number. “If I have to work through dinner on a Friday night, you’re gonna be stuck here with me.”

By the time Kelsey left, all fourteen computer stations had been cleared. With any luck, Dr. Reese would walk in Monday morning and have a glitch-free computer network. And it was after eight. Too late for a jog and too early to go to bed. But it was the perfect time for dinner and a movie. If she had a date.

Kelsey idled on the street, eyeing Denise’s car. She was parked in the driveway as if she belonged in the one empty space. Denise had become a regular fixture in the house, but Barb, Kelsey’s mom, still maintained that they were only friends. Friends or not, Kelsey didn’t want company. She wanted to walk into her own house and have her own girlfriend wrap her arms around her. Unfortunately, she lived with her mom and the girlfriend didn’t exist.

Kelsey passed through the family room and Denise and Barb both waved from the couch. They were watching a cooking show.

“Yes, but my point is you can make it with other types of cheese. It doesn’t have to be parmesan.” Barb paused. “Kelsey, have you ever made pesto?”

Kelsey shook her head.

“And you could skip the cheese entirely and only use pine nuts but it doesn’t taste as good,” Denise argued.

“Maybe not to you. But I think pine nuts are delicious. The more the better. Parmesan smells like stinky feet.” Barb cleared her throat. “Help me out here, Kelsey. Pesto doesn’t need parmesan, right?”

“I’m not the cook around here,” Kelsey said. The chef on the screen tossed a cup of pine nuts into a blender filled with basil and then smacked his lips.

“Did you have dinner?” Barb asked. “There’s leftover chowder in the fridge.”

“And fresh sourdough on the table,” Denise added. “How was your day?”

“Long, stressful.” Kelsey poured a glass of water. She watched the chef rip the lid off the blender and take an exaggerated sniff of the contents. “I don’t even like computers.”

“Maybe you should look into a different job, sweetie,” Barb said. “You’ve been so unhappy since you started there.”

Kelsey shrugged. The truth was, she’d been unhappy for two years. The job was only a cover for the past few months.

“Hey, speaking of work,” Denise said, “any chance you can swing by Moonstone sometime next week with the info on Alpine’s software? I think the new Dr. Henderson might actually be interested in moving into the twenty-first century. At least, when I mentioned wanting a computerized record system, she didn’t shoot down the possibility.”

As soon as Kelsey had heard the news that Joy Henderson was back in Raceda, she’d dreamt up all the possible ways they might bump into each other. None of her daydreams included running a sales pitch about Alpine software. But there was no way she could say no. If anyone at Alpine got wind of the fact that she’d skipped over a possible client for personal reasons, the fate of her next promotion would be sealed. “I can come by Monday morning with some brochures.”