He chuckled. “Damn outta towners.”
Mitch pulled in close to the council chambers just across from the local museum. He had been given a few contact names—Karen, the vice mayor; Shelly, his soon-to-be assistant nurse; and Doctor Ben Wainright, 79 years old, looking to retire, and why he was here.
There were no parking meters and no street signs, which made his grin even broader; this was definitely an advantage over big cities where cars were seen as the enemy and parking them was a luxury for the rich or the lucky.
He looked across the street. “Vice Mayor Karen first it is then.” He shouldered open his door and crossed the near-empty street to the chambers. It was a square 1960-ish building that was one of the few that was totally painted white.
Mitch headed directly to the woman at the front desk beside an oak staircase that could have come straight from the set of Gone with the Wind.
“Hiya.” He gave the receptionist his most charming smile.
She returned his smile, crinkle-winked with both eyes, and held up a finger as she finished her phone call.
She disconnected and looked up. “Doctor Taylor.” It wasn’t a question and her eyebrows traveled halfway up her forehead.
“Guilty.” Mitch held his hands up but was still a little surprised that she recognized him.
“I’m Gladys, and we’ve been expecting you.” She beamed like a schoolgirl. “You’re as nice as in your pictures. Like a young Ben Affleck.”
“Thank you—just don’t tell Ben Affleck.” Mitch chuckled. “Ah, is the vice mayor in?”
“Yes, but she might still be in a meeting. I’ll check if she’s free.” Gladys pressed a button on her phone system, spoke softly for a second or two, and then turned to nod to him. “You’re in luck, she’s coming down.”
An upstairs door opened and closed, and then came the click of heels on linoleum. For some reason, Mitch automatically sucked in his stomach.
Karen Powell came down the steps, her dark eyes on him, and she didn’t smile until she stepped down to be right in front of him. First thing he noticed was that in person she was tiny, standing no more than around five feet four inches, give-or-take. The next thing he noticed was she almost seemed luminous, at least to him.
Take it easy, big guy, he thought as he felt his cheeks redden.
She held out her hand. “Doctor Taylor, pleased to meet you in person. Online meetings are so impersonal.”
“Thank you, and likewise.” He shook her hand and found that though her hand was small, her grip was firm. Also, rather than the soft skin he expected, the palms seemed a little calloused. Gym junky, or maybe works a large property, he wondered.
She tilted her head. “So, you found our little oasis without problem?”
He grinned. “Yes, and Eldon is as beautiful as I expected, and it’s my pleasure to be here, Vice Mayor. Oh, and please call me Mitch.”
“Only if you call me Karen.” She watched him. “Just popping in to say hello, or is there something I can do for you?”
“Just on my way to meet with Doc Wainright and let him know I’ve arrived. As I was passing by, I wondered if you were in.”
“Good,” she said. “You’ll like Ben, he’s been my family doctor for years. As he’s retiring soon, I guess I’ll be seeing you in the future.”
“You and the family?” he asked.
She bobbed her head. “Yes, but it’s just me and Benji—Benjamin, my twelve-year-old son.”
He waited for a few seconds for her to elaborate but she didn’t, so he just assumed it was too early for him to know those sorts of private details. “Okay, great.” Mitch waited a moment more and then jerked a thumb toward the door. “So, I better, ah, get going then.”
She continued to watch him with that small smile of hers before suddenly having a thought. “Hey, this weekend the mayor is having a send-off for Ben, so you’re here at the perfect time. Be worthwhile you coming along, meet all your prospective customers.”
“Okay, yeah, sounds real good.” He gave her a small bow and quickly glanced at Gladys who was on the phone but still watching him. “See you, Gladys.”
She crinkled her eyes again and this time her nose as well, while carrying on with her cheery phone conversation.
Back in his car, he read the street sign of the closest cross street to get his bearings. It was Friday and he had planned on checking out his practice on the weekend but found that Wainright’s clinic wasn’t that far away. He could drop in on the old boy first, and then if he needed any supplies—food and medicines—before opening mid-week, he still had the afternoon to get everything sorted.
He pulled out and headed down the street to the first turnoff at Dugdale Street. Then he motored on past antique shops, general stores, and a few empty coffee shops. Finally, he came to a neat little house with a brass plate out front: Ben B. Wainright— Medical Practitioner.
*****
The ground shook.
Just a little.
And anyone out walking might have just thought it was a truck going by. Or their imagination. But the local pigeon flocks took to the sky, and kept on going.
*****
“This must be the place,” Mitch said as he pulled over. He sat in the car for a moment admiring the small cottage that was painted in deep blue, with gloss white for the fencing and balustrades. It looked well maintained and it was obvious that Wainright took pride in its upkeep.
Always a good sign, he thought.
He stepped out of his car and smiled. “Mitch, my boy, one day all of this will be yours.”
He strode up to the gate and pushed it open. The spring-hinge groaned a little, but then eased itself closed behind him as he walked to the open doorway. He stepped inside the reception area and smelled lavender and alcohol.
Behind the desk, a young woman had her head down with earphones in. Mitch assumed she was transcribing
