The Promise

“Quaint,” she said.

He laughed. “Only on the surface. It’s a tough little town.”

“How is that?”

He thought for a second. “These people don’t have a lot of advantages. The cost of living here is low, but there’s one doctor, one lawyer, no dentists—it’s a working-class town, and a large percentage of the population holds second jobs. Our teenagers carry as many credits as the teens in upscale city schools, yet most of them also work part-time. And they do well in school. We get a fair number into college.”

And that would explain why Scott Grant ran on a tight budget. “Yet you like it here?”

“This was a good decision for me, coming here,” Spencer said. “My last high school had a lot. It was flush with money—supplies, equipment, tutors, special programs, you name it. If the school needed it, they found a way. It was a well-heeled district. Not very many of my students had to work to get by. There were plenty of kids who held jobs, but there were more who didn’t. The student parking lot was always full, and the cars weren’t wrecks.” He grinned again. “The Thunder Point High School lot looks very different. These people work hard to stay above water. I find it’s kind of inspiring to be around a bunch of kids who don’t have it that easy.”

This was something Peyton had devoted a great deal of time to thinking about lately. She’d grown up on a farm, and it was a very successful farm. But they’d never been spoiled; the kids each had tons of responsibility. Everyone had worked hard, and because Paco was always worried about next year’s growing season, which could be bad, no one had spent money frivolously. One early freeze could mean disaster for the pears; a terrible winter could stunt the sheep. If hand-me-downs worked, why buy new? And although her dad had hired hands on the farm, every last one of his children had had farm chores. “Work is good for the soul,” he’d said. “What are you gonna learn from sleeping late? You pick pears for a few weeks, you have time to think and you have a chance to learn.”

At the time, Peyton had not given her farmer father much credit for wisdom, but when she was in college she’d had classmates who’d gone out a lot or played cards in the student lounge all the time while she’d been at the library studying because she learned that you work first, then you play. She was not a recluse by any means—she had a great social life, just not a frivolous one. That beer with her friends had tasted a lot better after she’d gotten an A on a test rather than after a D. Hard training on the Lacoumette farm had served her well.

Ted’s kids were overindulged, there was no question. Peyton had taken the Ramsdales back to the farm where twenty or more people would squish around a long oak table and that wasn’t even the whole family. They’d yell and laugh and fight for space to say a word. It was a place where all those staying in the house would bang on the bathroom door to oust someone who seemed to be homesteading in there, where breakfast was at five in the morning. The Ramsdale kids had not been impressed. Nor had been Ted, for that matter. His oldest, fifteen-year-old Krissy, had said, “Smells kinda like shit, doesn’t it?” Peyton’s mother had gasped, and her father had scowled.

“That’s manure,” Peyton had snapped. “It’s cultivating time!” Her father always said, That smell? That’s the smell of money.

“Easy, Peyton,” Ted had said. “It’s not her fault she has no farm experience.”

Thinking about that, she realized it might help her get her mojo back to stay in a town where the kids weren’t spoiled. Her nieces and nephews were well mannered and had been taught to mind the feelings of others, but like all kids, they had their moments and got into their share of stand-offs with their parents. But they were so much better behaved than Ted’s kids.

The other thing she’d realized since leaving the Ramsdale household was that she’d been without friends while she was there. She’d lost touch with her friends; the demands of Ted’s practice and household had left no time. His ex-wife had never stuck to their schedule, causing changes to plans so often, requiring Peyton to take personal time to supervise the kids because Ted had to be at the hospital or on call to the ER It had seemed to Peyton it was deliberate, but Ted was insistent. “You can’t take joint custody issues personally. We have to be flexible.”

We? Ted didn’t have to be flexible. He lived at the practice or hospital. He played golf and tennis; he said they were important professional relationships. He went to meetings out of town—he was a much sought-after presenter, given his relative notoriety within the cardiology specialty. He spent so little time with his children, Peyton was surprised he could remember their names.

Maybe she could use a little time in a town that knew about hard work. It wouldn’t hurt to be around a few friendly people. She could have space again—her own bathroom, closet, TV, bookshelf. Her belongings would be safe. She could build up her armor once more so her feelings weren’t hurt all the time by callous remarks and disrespect. She could figure out how she’d gotten into that mess and how to never let that happen again.

Maybe working in a clinic that ran on a tight budget would be inspiring in a way that Ted’s rich practice hadn’t been.

This little Pacific Coast village was only three hours from her parents’ farm, a place she had long ago grown out of but still fled to in times of heartache or confusion. Maybe she could sit here for a little while and recover her lost mind and knit together her frayed emotions. But at the salary of forty-thousand per year, she wouldn’t live extravagantly. Her last salary had been ninety-five. But, because of her living arrangement and Ted’s veritable wealth, she had saved a lot of money. In fact, she had always been careful with money and saved quite a bit, but she didn’t want to spend it by volunteering in a little clinic. Unless, of course, there was a point to it.

Before finishing her tea and leaving Cooper’s, she met a couple more people from town—a Realtor, the caterer who supplied Cooper’s with deli items, the local sheriff’s deputy and, while crossing the beach she met the Great Dane, Hamlet, who was loath to be too far from Landon, Sarah’s brother, a handsome and athletic young man. The teenagers all said hello very briefly since they put their game on hold for the time it took her to pass. That enchanted her. Then she considered what a mess her life had to be for her to be that impressed by teenagers halting their ball-batting game while she passed.

It was four-thirty by the time she was parked back in front of the clinic. This time the waiting room held people—six of them. She walked up to the counter and once again, Devon stood. “Oops. I guess the doctor is busy,” Peyton observed.

“He’s with a patient and a few are waiting to see him, but depending on what you need, I can snag him for a minute.”

“Is it always this busy, so late in the day?” Peyton asked.

“There were two appointments for after work and a few walk-ins. This isn’t the case every day, but it’s not uncommon. Would you like his cell number?”

“Seriously? Isn’t that kind of...you know...a little too personal?”

Devon shook her head. “I think everyone in town has his cell number.”

“Oh, that’s scary.” Patients never had Ted’s cell number. They had to go through his service.

Peyton took a slip of paper off the counter and scribbled on it. Three months? “Give him this note. He has my cell number from the résumé. I’m afraid that’s the only commitment I can make at this time. And I’d also need time to find somewhere to live around here. Ask him to let me know if he’s interested.”

Devon grinned hugely. “I’m so glad, Peyton. I have a good feeling about this. I look forward to working with you. And you might want to give this woman a call,” she said, scribbling on a sticky note. “She’s our local Realtor and is really good at finding hard-to-find rental property.”

That coaxed a smile out of Peyton. “I met Ray Anne at Cooper’s. I have her card.”

“Kismet,” Devon said.

Peyton thought Devon was a darling girl. She turned to go, then turned back. “Can I ask a question? I hope it’s not too personal. You’ll tell me if it is. I went out to Cooper’s to enjoy the ocean, and I met a few people—one of them was your intended, Spencer.”

“You did? Oh, good! Isn’t he the most handsome, wonderful man?”

Peyton tilted her head and gave a brief nod. “He seems to be, as a matter of fact. I also met Cooper and Sarah and some old guy who didn’t introduce himself.”

“Rawley. He was taking Mercy fishing off the dock today.”

“Yes, I saw her. And the boy, Austin, who he said was Cooper’s son?”

“That’s right.”

“But you said he was Spencer’s son,” she said. “I’m just a little...”

“Cooper is his biological father. Spencer is his stepfather. Austin’s mother passed away about a year ago. Spencer was the only father Austin had known, so they moved here so Cooper could be more involved. Oh, and to take the job as athletic director and coach at the high school. Some angel was definitely smiling on me.”

“That explains it.”

Devon laughed. “As soon as you start here, we’ll get you a program.”

* * *

It was five-thirty before Scott came up for air and the last person had left the clinic. He was making notes in a chart when he looked up to see Devon standing in the doorway. “I bet you’re ready to get out of here,” he said.

“I’m fine. Spencer and Rawley have been entertaining the kids this afternoon. But I wanted to be sure to tell you—Peyton stopped by. She left a note.” She presented it to him. “She said that’s all the commitment she can make at this time.”

“Well, it offers some help and time to look around for someone more permanent.”

“Maybe she’ll like it here,” Devon said.

“Don’t count on it, Devon. She’s sought after. She could name her price in a lot of clinics or practices. Doctors fight over PAs of her caliber and start bidding wars. I really didn’t expect her to take even a temporary job here on the salary I offered her.”

“Then why would she?”

“I think Thunder Point is a place holder while she decides where she’s going next, for a great deal more money. And prestige.”

“Why wouldn’t she just go somewhere else now, then?”

“Because she’s clever. She’ll research, take her time, choose well, negotiate a terrific package.”

“Hmph,” Devon said. “You could be wrong.”