Page 62 of Doctor Neighbor

2:48 pm

I push open the door to Brewed Awakening, the familiar bell chiming above me. The lunch crowd’s last stragglers are finishing their meals, the buzz of conversation dying down. Nelson's at the front counter, wiping it down with his usual meticulous care.

"Hey, boss," he greets me with a grin. "How'd lunch go?"

I force a smile. "Good, thanks. How's everything here? Strong crowd?"

"Smooth sailing," he reports. "We had a steady stream without interruption for pretty much three hours. We probably have two hundred tickets from the lunch hour. That inspection really lit a fire under us, huh?"

I nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "God, I'm so glad that's behind us."

Nelson leans against the counter. "You and me both. I swear, I've never been so stressed in my life."

"Let's make a pact," I say, holding out my hand. "We stay on top of this stuff from now on. No more surprises."

He shakes my hand firmly. "I've already got that in my head. They won't catch us with our pants down again."

As the last customer leaves, Nelson turns to me, his brow furrowing slightly. "Hey, you okay? You seem a bit... stressed."

I plaster on my best everything's-fine smile. "Just been anxious about this whole inspection thing. I'll be fine now that it's over."

But even as I say the words, my mind's racing with thoughts of Buster, Maddie, and the bombshell I might be sitting on. I push it down, like I always do, focusing on the here and now. There's work to be done, after all.

It's a familiar dance, and this mask I wear is one I've perfected over the years. The weight of this secret settles in my chest; it's been a constant companion since I admitted it to myself several days ago, now. I've learned to keep my worries on the inside and smile on the outside. This one is no different.

I take a deep breath, willing my features to remain neutral, my hands steady as I reach for the next task. The cafe won't run itself, and I've got customers to serve, orders to fill, and a business to run.

It's easier this way, losing myself in the rhythm of work, the hiss of the espresso machine drowning out the whispers of what-ifs and maybes that threaten to overwhelm me.

"Alright," Nelson says, though I can tell he's not entirely convinced. "Let me know if you need anything."

I know he means it. Nelson has been a fantastic manager, someone I can trust to keep the ship on course. And he has been a good friend. But I could never confide in him about this. Not at this point.

I nod, grateful for his concern but relieved he doesn't push further. As I head to my office, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the rest of the day. One step at a time, I remind myself. One day at a time.

3:11 pm

I'm just packing up my things to head out and pick up Madeline when my phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I answer anyway.

"Hello, Ms. Johnson? This is Sarah from Garden Montessori."

My heart skips a beat. They never call unless something's wrong.

"Yes, this is she. Is everything okay?"

There's a pause, and I can feel my pulse quickening.

"Ms. Johnson, I'm calling about Madeline. She was very sleepy this afternoon, so we put her down for a nap. But when we tried to wake her for pickup, she wasn't responsive."

The world stops spinning, and everything around me fades into a blur. My breath catches in my throat, lodging there like a stone, and I feel my legs go weak beneath me.

Instinctively, I grip the edge of my desk with white-knuckled fingers, trying desperately to steady myself as the room seems to tilt and sway—my mind races, filled with a thousand terrifying possibilities, each worse than the last.

What could be wrong with Madeline, my sweet, vibrant little girl? The silence on the other end of the line stretches on, each second an eternity of fear and uncertainty.

"What do you mean, ‘not responsive’?" I manage to choke out.

"We've called an ambulance," Sarah continues, her voice steady but concerned. "They're on their way now. We wanted to let you know right away."

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