Daisy
"You're doing great,"I say to Noelle, the town librarian. "Remember to keep up the exercises at home. I really think you'll see an improvement in your shoulder pain."
"Thanks, Daisy," Noelle says, smiling as she situates her sweatshirt over her head. "I swear, it's like I turned forty and my body began to protest."
Noelle's twelve-year-old daughter, Scarlett, rolls her eyes from where she sits waiting for her mom. "That's not how it works, Mom."
"You wait," Noelle wags a finger in Scarlett's direction. "There will come a time when you'll learn the hard way not to stretch out in bed after you wake up in the morning because you might pull something."
Scarlett frowns disbelievingly. She's still young enough that she doesn't truly believe getting older is a real thing that will happen to her someday.
Isla joins the conversation, delivering a pointed look to Scarlett. "Just tuck away this little nugget of truth for when you're forty. Always walk around for a few minutes after you wake up before stretching."
Scarlett finally catches on, nodding her head and agreeing to remember that for the day she turns as old as dirt akaforty.
Noelle lifts her eyes to the ceiling in an exasperated, but joking, way. "I do not have murder on my to-do list for today, Lord, but I appreciate you presenting me with the opportunity."
I laugh. Noelle is snappy, pretty, and intelligent, and I know from a previous conversation she wishes she were in a relationship. Maybe she and Isla should go into the valley and cast their hooks.
"Who's that?" Noelle says, tipping her chin behind me.
I already know who it is, based solely off the clock and the fact Peter is never late for his appointments.
"Peter Bravo," Isla answers, and I catch sight of him walking the sidewalk parallel to my office. He's wearing sweats again, and a plain T-shirt. Clothing conducive to our appointment. It's basic attire, but on him it looks elevated. Maybe it's the arms corded with muscle, the filled out back that looks like he could throw a girl over it and ride her into the sunset.
Whoa, Daisy. Take several chill pills.
"He is not too bad to look at," Noelle says, grinning.
"Gross, Mom." Scarlett's lip curls in disgust.
Isla smirks. "He's the reason Daisy's wearing mascara today."
"And lip gloss?" Noelle's eyebrows are raised.
I send Isla a harsh glare. "He is not."
She shrugs. "Sorry boss, but you didn't start wearing mascara until he started making appointments."
"That is a lie and a half and you know it."
Noelle titters. Isla smiles smugly. Scarlett's gaze flies between the three of us, cataloguing the exchange.
Peter strolls unsuspectingly through the door, and right into a den of women foaming at the mouth. But not me, obviously.
He stops short when he sees us standing in what I admit is a suspicious looking trio. "Hel-lo?" His gaze slices to the young lady sitting in a chair to his right, then back to us.
"Hi," I say, stepping forward. Not staking a claim or anything, but he is my client, and this is my business. Plus, it wouldn't be very nice of me to let him get mauled by the ravenous hyenas in this small but mighty pack of women.
Isla waves, and I introduce Peter to Noelle and Scarlett.
"Nice to meet you," he says, to which Noelle replies, "Do you have any theatre experience?"
We all turn to look at her, trying to understand what it is she's really asking.
"I'm desperately in need of someone to play the part of the hero in the town play." An impish grin dances over her lips. "I asked Hugo, but he said he's too busy running the olive mill. Too bad, considering he'd know how to wield a sword."
"There's a joke in there somewhere," Isla murmurs.
