Page 6 of Holly, Jolly, and Oh So Naughty

“Ex-fiancée,” I correct sharply.

“Ex-fiancée are still calling non-stop, blocking up the line to actual patients. You told me you would handle this.”

“I believe I said I washandlingit,” I correct her again, quickly deleting all the voicemails. There’s nothing either of them can say that I want to hear. “As in, I’m in the process.”

“James.” Margret perches on the edge of my desk and adjusts her glasses although they never shift from the small indent on the tip of her nose. The beaded chain that runs from the leg of her glasses to her cardigan tinkles at the movement and momentarily distracts me.

Margret is exactly how I pictured her when I called her months ago inquiring about the position here. Her nasally voice has a rough edge to it, created from the cigarettes I knew she used to smoke daily. She doesn’t anymore, but her fingers are always twiddling with a pen or something similar and she pops hard candy mints like they’re going out of fashion. Even now, she sits there toying with those beads to keep her fingers busy. She smiles at me, deepening the wrinkles on her face and giving her an oddly charming look despite her brash personality.

She’s a woman who has seen it all over the years but still has a smile to take home to her family. Sure, she can be as sour as the bitterest lemon at the end of fall, but she has a good heart. A good heart that’s clearly at the end of its tether from the narrow-eyed look she’s giving me.

“We’re a family-owned business,” Margret says.

My heart plummets.

“Having a big shot from the city makes us look good, and despite the tears you draw out of the patients, you’re doing good work here. Work I never thought a practice like ours could ever achieve. But even I have my limits.” Margret takes the phone from me and taps the screen. “We’re a Medical Practice, not a call center. Now, I’ve given you your privacy, and I have done my best not to ask why a hot-shot doctor like you decided to move to a small town like Evergreen Falls, but we can’t keep this up. It’s becoming more trouble than it might be worth.”

“What are you saying?” I press my fingertips into my thigh, fighting against a lump rising in my throat. I can already see where this is going. If it’s too much hassle to employ me, then I’ll be out on my ear, and what then? What other excuse do I have to stay here trying to work up the courage to say even one word to Lily?

“You need to deal with this,” Margret says, and there’s an unexpected softness in her tone. “Whatever it is, you need to deal. Because if it ends up on my doorstep, then I’m sorry, but you?—”

“It’s my girlfriend!” The words blurt out of me like a shot, and my entire body dissolves into cold shivers.

“I’m sorry?” Margret’s faint brows shoot up into her gray curls.

“I—” The lie knots my tongue. “That’s why they’re calling so much. I, uh… I told them I met someone and they want to meet her, but I’ve been saying no and my mother is not the kind of woman you say no to, so it’s creating a lot of pressure to provide details, y’know?”

“A girlfriend?” Margret repeats. “I’ve never seen you out socializing.”

I force a wide smile. “Yeah, uh… I, uh, I met her at the store, and we hit it off, and I, uh… yeah.”

“Who?”

“It’s a secret,” I say quickly. “She’s not ready to go public. I am a hotshot doctor, after all.”

Margret’s eyes narrow, and then her next words send a molten hot bullet right through my gut.

“Well I think since I’m fielding all the calls from your mother, I have a right to know who it is. So invite her.”

“Invite her?” I say hoarsely. “To what?”

“The medical charity party, of course. Bring her with you, and I’ll evaluate whether she’s worth losing my sanity over.”

3

LILY

“Emma! Come on, sweetie! We’re leaving in ten minutes!”

“Coming!” My daughter’s screech carries down the stairs as if she were standing right next to me, and I wince even as a smile creeps over my face.

Dodging questions about her father on the drive home was difficult, especially now I know the other kids are starting to give her a hard time about it. Ever since she was little, I knew this day would come and so I would tell her that her dad was away doing important jobs for people. Sometimes it would be for the princes in her storybooks. Other times it would be to help the Easter Bunny, depending on the time of year.

Those stories worked well on her in the past, but I sense now that she’s getting far too smart for me to continue pulling the wool over her eyes. So instead, I deflected and diverted her attention to dinner with her grandparents.

That was enough to distract her, at least for now.

In the kitchen, I lift several spoonsful of pasta into two Tupperware containers. My parents are never short on meals since they run the Fir Tree Inn with a cook who serves lunch and dinner, but there’s something nice about bringing them a home-cooked meal.

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