Read Online Moonstone by Jaime Clevenger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jaime Clevenger
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Can’t you take the day off? Her father had gone to the clinic every day. And now she understood why. There wasn’t enough time in the day to get to the paperwork that built up from the week.
The office was a mess. The pile of papers on the desk seemed to have grown higher every day since she’d taken over the place. She opened the drapes, already used to the wave of her father’s cologne that accompanied this, and cracked open the window. The bay was only a few shades darker gray than the sky. Joy turned to the paperwork and sank down in her father’s old chair.
A letter from her father’s lawyer was at the top of the stack. She found the letter opener her father had always used, a knife with an anchor for a handle, and slit open the envelope. Fortunately this wasn’t a bill. The lawyer needed another signature and he’d sent her a copy. She stared at the paper for a long moment and then folded it and replaced it in the envelope. She hadn’t wanted the lawyer to explain the details of her father’s will. She’d inherited Moonstone Optometry with all of its antiquated bells and whistles—plain and simple. The lawyer insisted she couldn’t choose whether or not she wanted the inheritance. It was hers, end of story, unless she wanted to contest everything. One look from her mom then, eyes red from weeks of grieving, and Joy knew there was no arguing. Terrence had inherited their father’s 1968 Mustang. The car was in mint condition. He’d also received an undisclosed amount of money from the sale of some of their father’s stocks. Undisclosed because the final numbers weren’t in yet. Terrence had as much interest in Moonstone Optometry as she did, which was to say, none. The other problem with swapping was that Terrence was a dentist. Smart boy, Joy thought. She’d never given her younger brother enough credit.
Joy filed the letter from the lawyer in the one drawer she’d cleared out. Helen had labeled files for her. She picked up the next envelope on the stack and noticed the Alpine Connected logo. Kelsey had sent a personalized letter, entirely professional, of course. The envelope wasn’t stamped so Joy guessed she’d dropped it off herself. Joy grinned at the realization that she was sorry to have missed this rep’s visit. First time for everything . Below her signature, Kelsey had written her cell number and a note to contact her directly with any questions.
Joy instantly pictured Kelsey, but the image that came to mind now wasn’t the teenager in red lifeguarding shorts that she’d long thought of. Now it was Kelsey in her business suit staring straight into Joy’s eyes. She had no idea if Kelsey was even single, let alone if she liked women. She picked up the letter and read it again. Having computerized patient records was a necessity if she wanted to grow the business and she had enough financial sense to realize that she’d get a better price for the practice if she could show good growth. She couldn’t help but wonder what her father would say.
“Damn it,” Joy said. “It’s Sunday.” She tossed Kelsey’s letter on the desk and reached for her keys.
All the florists in Raceda—save one—had gone out of business. Flowers were easier to buy online or in a grocery store. But of course her mom wouldn’t buy flowers in a grocery store. “Not for Sam,” she’d said.
Joy rang the bell on the glass counter and waited for an elderly Asian woman to come to the front counter. She took a long look at Joy before a light of recognition filled her eyes. “You’re Dr. Sam’s daughter.”
The woman was in her eighties at least and barely five feet tall if she stood up straight, but she was stooped. That didn’t slow her down. She’d come around the counter to grasp Joy’s arm and before Joy could say anything, the woman had pulled her over to a display cabinet by the window. She pointed her hand toward a bouquet in the center of the top shelf. Red rosebuds dotted a mix of
The office was a mess. The pile of papers on the desk seemed to have grown higher every day since she’d taken over the place. She opened the drapes, already used to the wave of her father’s cologne that accompanied this, and cracked open the window. The bay was only a few shades darker gray than the sky. Joy turned to the paperwork and sank down in her father’s old chair.
A letter from her father’s lawyer was at the top of the stack. She found the letter opener her father had always used, a knife with an anchor for a handle, and slit open the envelope. Fortunately this wasn’t a bill. The lawyer needed another signature and he’d sent her a copy. She stared at the paper for a long moment and then folded it and replaced it in the envelope. She hadn’t wanted the lawyer to explain the details of her father’s will. She’d inherited Moonstone Optometry with all of its antiquated bells and whistles—plain and simple. The lawyer insisted she couldn’t choose whether or not she wanted the inheritance. It was hers, end of story, unless she wanted to contest everything. One look from her mom then, eyes red from weeks of grieving, and Joy knew there was no arguing. Terrence had inherited their father’s 1968 Mustang. The car was in mint condition. He’d also received an undisclosed amount of money from the sale of some of their father’s stocks. Undisclosed because the final numbers weren’t in yet. Terrence had as much interest in Moonstone Optometry as she did, which was to say, none. The other problem with swapping was that Terrence was a dentist. Smart boy, Joy thought. She’d never given her younger brother enough credit.
Joy filed the letter from the lawyer in the one drawer she’d cleared out. Helen had labeled files for her. She picked up the next envelope on the stack and noticed the Alpine Connected logo. Kelsey had sent a personalized letter, entirely professional, of course. The envelope wasn’t stamped so Joy guessed she’d dropped it off herself. Joy grinned at the realization that she was sorry to have missed this rep’s visit. First time for everything . Below her signature, Kelsey had written her cell number and a note to contact her directly with any questions.
Joy instantly pictured Kelsey, but the image that came to mind now wasn’t the teenager in red lifeguarding shorts that she’d long thought of. Now it was Kelsey in her business suit staring straight into Joy’s eyes. She had no idea if Kelsey was even single, let alone if she liked women. She picked up the letter and read it again. Having computerized patient records was a necessity if she wanted to grow the business and she had enough financial sense to realize that she’d get a better price for the practice if she could show good growth. She couldn’t help but wonder what her father would say.
“Damn it,” Joy said. “It’s Sunday.” She tossed Kelsey’s letter on the desk and reached for her keys.
All the florists in Raceda—save one—had gone out of business. Flowers were easier to buy online or in a grocery store. But of course her mom wouldn’t buy flowers in a grocery store. “Not for Sam,” she’d said.
Joy rang the bell on the glass counter and waited for an elderly Asian woman to come to the front counter. She took a long look at Joy before a light of recognition filled her eyes. “You’re Dr. Sam’s daughter.”
The woman was in her eighties at least and barely five feet tall if she stood up straight, but she was stooped. That didn’t slow her down. She’d come around the counter to grasp Joy’s arm and before Joy could say anything, the woman had pulled her over to a display cabinet by the window. She pointed her hand toward a bouquet in the center of the top shelf. Red rosebuds dotted a mix of
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