Page 11 of Plentywood
“I listened,” I replied. “Listening is this new thing they teach us young fuckers in medical school.”
CHAPTER SEVEN: Hunter
“Hey, sheriff,” Estelle Howard greeted as she came out the back door of the clinic. “Beautiful day, don’t you think?” she asked, turning to Jill. “Oh, honey, you look so nice with a little makeup on.”
“What has you so cheery?” Jill asked her.
“The new doc,” she replied, fanning her face. “Too young for me, but heaven’s sake, if I was only forty years younger.”
“That handsome, huh?” Jill responded.
“Better than that. Dreamy is more like it.”
Jill and I paused and watched Mrs. Howard make her way down the sidewalk and around the corner, a pep to her step that I hadn’t seen since her husband Walter passed.
“First review is in, Jilly,” I stated. “Sounds like the doc is something else.”
Jill brushed past me, elbowing me out of her way. “Move,” she huffed. “I have a husband to meet.”
I followed Jill through the back entrance where the patient waiting room was located. The mansion appeared as a normal Victorian home from the street, blending with the small-town vibe of Plentywood, but the alley and parking lot side were for the business. From what I’d observed, the main floor was entirely a medical clinic, even with a full kitchen.
The second story was a private home for the resident physician. I didn’t see a moving company vehicle anywhere, soI assumed the new doc would live like all the other doctors who had served here, surrounded by incredible antiques. The difference this time was that the occupant would actually be a Hawthorne. From what I’d read in the town paper, Benedict Hawthorne would be the first related doctor since the founder, Horace Hawthorne, his great-grandfather.
Arriving a minute after Jill in the waiting room, I was amazed by the buzz in the room. Jill was engaged with two women who were giggling and leaning into each other. It wouldn’t take an FBI agent to tell they were all a flutter over the newest member of our small town.
“He’s gorgeous,” Mrs. Jarry whispered to her husband while I stood watching the women. Mr. Jarry rolled his eyes and glanced my way, shrugging his shoulders. “I wish you’d dress more like him,” she added, frowning at her poor husband, who had accompanied her to town as her driver, and whose style was now being called into question.
Eric Preston was the next patient to exit the internal area of the clinic where the newly minted star doctor was working. Eric was still in a cast from where a horse he was shoeing had kicked him. He noticed me hovering near Jill, taking in the palpable excitement of the room.
“Even you had to come see him, huh?” he asked, poking his cast into my side. “You’re going to like this one, Hunt. I ain’t even gay and I think he’s pretty.”
I shook my head and exhaled. “You’d think he was a rock star based on this group, some of which I’m assuming haven’t even seen the doc yet.”
“Get in line, sheriff,” he quipped, gesturing to the swinging door with the small window cut into it. “Not only is he truly something to look at, he’s real smart and very professional. I recommend you break a bone or something real quick.”
“No one is all that,” I hissed under my breath, feeling a bit jealous all of a sudden.
Eric laughed out loud. “Text me after you see him, Hunt. I’ll be expecting to hear from you when you eat your words.” He pointed at my mouth. “I’d pick at that front tooth before you meet him if I were you. Something tells me you want to be at your finest for this guy.”
I tapped on Jill’s arm and moved my eyes to the door to the exam rooms, letting her know it was time to meet Mr. Perfect. I peered through the small window in the door while Jill finished a conversation. Agnes Brewster was at her desk, and the rest of the office area was empty. I let out a breath and moved through the door.
“Sheriff,” Agnes acknowledged. “Come to lay your eyes on him too, did ya? Don’t get your hopes up, kid. I think this one has taste.”
“Is that why you’re out here alone?” I joked, knowing the best weapon to use against Agnes was more insults. “I just want to introduce myself.”
“You and the rest of the fucking town,” she bitched. “The phone hasn’t stopped ringing since his picture appeared in the paper. You’d think a plague hit Plentywood.”
“Where is he?” Jill asked once she joined me. “Agnes?”
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, girly,” Agnes bantered. “He’ll be right out after Shirley Schmidt stops showing him her breasts. Funny really. She’d said she had a backache when she showed up.”
“That’s disgusting, Agnes,” Jill complained, fussing with her hair.
“Bathrooms over there,” Agnes said, pointing to the door down the hall. “Bright lights, too, if you need to apply more makeup. Just a suggestion, dear,” she added.
Jill grunted and threw her nastiest glare toward the cranky nurse. “She gets worse every year,” Jill hissed toward me. “How do I look?”
“You look terrific. Try not to look like a freak waiting for him.”
