by Laura Burton
She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of engaging in the conversation, but her curiosity got the better of her.
“Why aren’t you going home?” she asked. “Is it because you want to supervise the destruction of the castle?”
“No, not exactly,” he answered vaguely then stayed infuriatingly quiet again.
Finally, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“What do you mean, not exactly?” she demanded.
“I mean that work will be starting on the castle grounds on Monday,” he said, and another piece of her heart broke. “But we won’t be tearing any of it down. And we won’t be putting a hotel up.”
Once again, she was speechless.
She wanted to ask him a million questions, but she couldn’t find her voice.
Thankfully, he seemed to take pity on her because he closed the final distance between them and spoke again.
“I’ve decided to build a house. Not on top of where the castle is standing, but over there.”
He pointed up the hill to where they’d camped out. To where he’d first kissed her.
Jenna felt her eyes fill with tears.
Her stupid heart was trying to imagine all sorts of wonderful things, but she couldn’t let it. Not yet.
“I don’t want to destroy your castle, Jenna. And I don’t want anyone else to do it either. So, I’m keeping the ruins and the land. The house will be private, of course. But the castle – the castle will stay exactly the same. I’ll keep it in my name, but only to make sure nobody else can buy it. It shouldn’t belong to me. It shouldn’t belong to anyone. So, it’s going to be my gift to you. You and everyone else in Dunkilly.”
Well, that did it.
The tears came then fast and, to her mortification, a bit noisily.
He didn’t seem to mind though.
He reached out and cupped her face, his thumb brushing at the wetness on her cheek.
“I was hoping if I build my house here, if I stay a bit longer, that you’ll forgive me. And let me make it up to you?”
Jenna shook her head.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she sniffled. “Conor I – I can’t believe you would do this for us.”
“For you,” he answered hoarsely. “It’s for you, Jenna.”
He kissed her then, and she kissed him back with every single part of her.
Before she could get nice and carried away though, he pulled back and smiled down at her.
“You know, when you gave me a week to fall in love, I didn’t believe you could do it,” he said. “But you did. You made me fall in love. But not with the castle. And not with Dunkilly. I fell in love with you.”
Jenna’s poor heart nearly burst from her chest.
“I love you, too,” she blurted. She would have loved to say something romantic like he had. But she was too overwhelmed.
He didn’t seem to mind though, since he pulled her close and kissed her again. Somehow, by some miracle, he loved her, too.
And she wasn’t just getting her castle, Jenna thought as Conor swept her off her feet, figurately and literally.
She was getting her king.
Epilogue
December
“Oh, it’s gorgeous, Conor! Like a fairy tale house.”
Conor smiled proudly as Callie came bounding in from the kitchen of his newly finished house.
He’d tried to call it a cottage, but Jenna had teased him mercilessly.
Cottages, she’d informed him, were small and cosy.
This was a house. A giant one.
But she had conceded that the architect had done a great job making it blend into its surroundings.
The stone used matched that of the castle, and though it was on the big side, they’d kept it at one level so, it wouldn’t spoil the view of her castle.
Even though she insisted it didn’t belong to her, he knew better.
In fact, he could hardly wait for her to open her present. All she needed to do was sign on the dotted line and the deeds passed to her.
He knew that she wouldn’t accept such a gift as his girlfriend.
Which was exactly why he was planning on asking her to be his wife.
The glass doors that opened out onto the cliffs opened, and Jenna came in looking tiny in between his three brothers.
They’d all flown in from New York just yesterday and were staying through New Year’s Eve.
They’d already met Jenna when she’d flown home with him in October and had loved her, as he’d known they would.
He watched her as she laughingly tried to explain just how out of hand Tom Nugent’s New Year’s parties could get.
And if his Halloween one had been anything to go by, Conor figured they should take her warnings seriously.
She looked up then and smiled, moving to take the hand he held out to her.
“We should check on dinner,” he said to his siblings. “Gran won’t be happy if anything is burnt. Just make yourselves at home.”
Jenna followed him into the kitchen frowning.
“Gran and Kate are bringing dinner,” she said to him. “There’s nothing to check on.”
“I know.” He grinned wickedly before leaning down and stealing a kiss.
As always, the spark between them exploded immediately.
“Hey lovebirds, it’s snowing. You coming outside to look?”
Jenna broke away from the kiss as Carter shouted in to them.
“Snow!” Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him to the door. “Just wait until you see your castle in the snow.”
Conor let himself be dragged along and stood with Jenna in his arms, admiring her castle in the snow.
What did he need a castle for anyway?
Everything he could ever need was right there in his arms.
The End.
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Chaos at the Clinic by Kaitlynn Clarkson
Copyright Page
Copyright © 2020 Kaitlynn Clarkson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic and mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Disclaimer
Although the places described in this story are real, it is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products o
f the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to any event, either historical or recent, or any person, living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Jennifer Sanders checked her makeup one last time, frowning a little as she observed the faint lines around her eyes. Well, I am nearing forty, she told herself. Still, she was in better shape than a lot of her friends, with a trim figure, perfectly sculpted eyebrows, and the ability to defend herself with laser-targeted accuracy. It was a skill that she’d honed over many years, first as a nurse, and then as a practice manager. Workplace rumors and politics were always flying around, and she’d found that a no-nonsense approach was the best way to address them.
Satisfied that she looked her best, she picked up her purse and keys, and headed out to her car. She’d allowed plenty of time today; the traffic on her route to downtown Concord had been bad lately. It seemed that many drivers thought it would be quicker to detour through the city rather than stay on the Interstate. She wished they would just stick it out when there was a delay, instead of clogging the streets of the city.
Thankfully, the traffic was moving smoothly today, and she avoided the frequent snarls that caused frustration and impatience. She always felt a sense of satisfaction when the day began well. Her sharp eye alighted on the chrome nameplate next to the door as she unlocked the clinic. It was looking decidedly smeared and dirty. She would come out and clean it later; she liked to keep the clinic looking its best. She enjoyed being the first to arrive; it gave her time to mentally arrange her day before the rush of patients and staff kept her too busy to think.
She thought back to the time that she’d arrived here. She’d come from a large clinic in Boston, where she’d worked as a nurse. But she’d always wanted to try her hand at management, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. It had been a shock at first; the clinic was a mess, the files were in chaos, and the staff had a casual attitude to punctuality. It had taken time to change the culture and attitudes of the workplace, but she’d finally got it just the way she liked it. Here, she was the queen of her domain. It was her job to keep the clinic running smoothly, liaise between the surgeons and their patients, and fulfil all manner of other tasks required to run a busy colorectal and urology practice.
She heard the door open and looked up. “Good morning, Belinda,” she greeted the nurse receptionist who worked for Dr Barbara Gallagher, the chief urologist.
“Good morning,” Belinda said cheerfully. “The traffic was good this morning.”
Jennifer nodded. “I had a good run, too,” she said.
“Is Barbara in yet?” Belinda asked.
“Not yet. Her first appointment is at 9 am.”
“Good. That will give me time to tidy up those files I didn’t finish yesterday.”
Jennifer smiled at her, and went back to her own work. She and Belinda were kindred spirits, almost like sisters. They were both formidably organized, hated tardiness, and insisted on impeccable cleanliness and order.
Unlike her real sister, Jennifer thought wryly. Laura was a good nurse, and they’d certainly needed her a year ago when Amber had unexpectedly quit. But she was often late, and she seemed to consider talking to the patients more important than her tasks. As a result, she was always behind with her work, and the other staff often had to help her catch up. Jennifer sighed. She didn’t want to ruin her relationship with her sister, but someone would have to talk to her if she didn’t get her act together. They were trying to run a clinic, not a church social event.
Half an hour later, Jennifer checked the time. Everyone was here now. Everyone except for Laura. Where could she be? She was supposed to be helping Annette with a rectal examination. Feeling annoyed, Jennifer realized that she would have to do it herself. Time was precious; they simply couldn’t wait.
“Laura isn’t here yet,” she said on the way past Annette’s room.
Annette looked up in surprise. “I wonder what’s keeping her,” she said. “I see you’re ready to help. Thanks.”
After Annette had done the examination, Jennifer went back to her office to make arrangements for the next stage of treatment. She was hoping that Laura had arrived; this time, she’d had enough. She was going to tell her sister a few home truths.
Her chance came at lunchtime when everyone else had gone out, and she was alone with Laura in the staff room.
“I had to fill in for you this morning,” she said, censure in her tone.
Laura looked away. “I’m sorry I was late,” she mumbled. “The traffic was bad.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Jennifer said evenly. “It was fine when I came through.”
Laura looked at her with irritation on her face. “It was bad when I was on the road,” she said in a voice that dared Jennifer to call her a liar.
“Well, perhaps if you’d leave earlier, you’d miss the worst of it,” Jennifer replied tartly.
“Look, what is this? Let’s-Get-Laura Day?” Laura was in no mood for a lecture from her older sister.
“No. But we’re trying to run a business here. We can’t keep patients waiting because someone’s late for work.”
“I always knew it would be impossible to work with you,” Laura muttered.
“As I recall, you didn’t have a lot of options at the time,” Jennifer retorted. “You got laid off when the clinic closed, remember?”
Laura glared at her. “And you needed a nurse and couldn’t get one, remember?”
It was true, but Jennifer didn’t want to concede the point. “I expect all the staff to be organized and punctual,” she said. “Arriving half an hour late for work is not acceptable.”
Laura’s eyes bored holes in her. “OK, I was late,” she said, anger in her tone. “But YOU need to be more flexible, Miss Perfect.”
Jennifer felt anger rising at Laura’s use of the nickname that she’d hated during their teens, as well as the reminder that Laura considered her uptight and inflexible. “Keep it professional,” she snapped, turning to her work. So much for a great start to the day.
It was Friday morning and the clinic had a full day of appointments. Jennifer checked the time. Laura was late again. “Surely she can be on time today,” she growled. “We’re completely booked out, and she’s late again.”
“Who?” Belinda asked, coming into the office with a tray of paperwork.
“Laura, who else?” Jennifer asked sarcastically.
Belinda rolled her eyes. “She’s making a habit of it lately,” she said.
“I talked to her about it a week ago,” Jennifer said. “She obviously didn’t get the message.”
“She’s a good nurse,” Belinda replied. “They’re hard to find.”
“But you and I both know that it’s unprofessional to be late for work. Someone else has to fill in and that creates disorganization.”
Belinda pulled a face. “That’s what happens when you work with people instead of statues,” she said. “But I know what you’re saying.”
Despite her annoyance with her sister, Jennifer grinned. “What are you saying? That I’m obsessed with order and punctuality and should work as an art curator or something?”
“Something like that. Somewhere that there are no people to get under your skin.”
“You’d be right there with me.”
“Probably. But I don’t mind assisting when Barbara needs me. The patients tend not to argue when we’re looking at their bits.”
Jennifer pulled a face. “I prefer working in administration,” she said. “Helping Annette to peer up someone’s butt is not my favorite chore.” She glanced at the time. “I’ll have to fill in for my sister again,” she growled.
Belinda chuckled. “Enjoy your favorite chore,” she said.
Half an hour later, Jennifer had finished helping Annette with t
he appointment. She marched out into the office, hoping her sister had arrived. She was ready to speak her mind.
“I’ve just been filling in for you again,” she hissed, as she spotted Laura checking the appointments on the computer.
Laura looked around to make sure the patients in the waiting room weren’t listening. They all had their noses buried in newspapers and other reading matter. “Jennifer, I’m sorry,” she said. “But I cannot do this anymore.” She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. “Here, take this,” she said, handing it to Jennifer.
“What is it?” Jennifer asked, noticing that it was addressed to the Practice Manager.
“It’s my resignation,” Laura said in a whisper.
Jennifer felt the color drain from her face. “Your what?” she squeaked.
“My resignation,” Laura said again. “I can’t work here any longer. I’ve accepted a position over at St Matthews’ Aged Care.”
Jennifer felt as if the breath were being squeezed right out of her. “But … but … you can’t just leave,” she stammered.
“I can, and I am,” Laura said sweetly. “I’ll be gone at the end of the week. And then you won’t have to worry about filling in for me.”
“But we need you! You’re a good nurse! You can’t just walk out on us!”
Laura looked her firmly in the eye. “You mean YOU need me,” she said. “You want your perfect little world of impeccableness to continue and you need me to make that happen for you.”
Jennifer was sure that impeccableness was not a word, but she decided not to argue.
Laura continued. “I can’t work in a place where timetables and tasks are more important than people,” she said. “You might run the office to perfection and keep everyone on schedule but that’s all you think of. What about the poor old people who come in here day after day with serious problems? What about the mothers who are worried sick about their children? They’re all scared to death, and they need someone to show them some compassion and reassure them. But I can’t do that because all you can see is time and dollars.”