He laughed. “Yeah, they did.”
“And you’re not moonshining anymore? You really decided to give it up?”
“I sold the rest of my batch and didn’t want to make another.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, and there’s one more thing…” He stopped eating and grinned at her. “I got the job.”
“What? Really? Which job?” Rita said, her voice raising almost an octave with each word.
“At the sheriff’s department. I’ll be starting training next week.”
Rita clapped a hand to her mouth. She didn’t want to cry. Tyler would roll his eyes. So, she cheered instead. “Oh, honey, that’s so good. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I think it’s going to be exactly what I need. I’ll be at the Georgia Public Safety Training Centre for twelve weeks. Then I’ll do the rest of my training on the job.”
“Well, this is good news. I’m glad I made pancakes.” She beamed at him, her heart full of joy. “First, I get good test results, and now you’ve found the perfect job. Things are looking up for us all.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Two weeks later, Matilda was very ready for Christmas Day to arrive. She’d finished the last of her Christmas shopping when they were in Helen for the weekend. She found some kitschy souvenirs and knickknacks she thought her family would like and that wouldn’t be heavy in the mail, and she’d already purchased a leather La-Z-Boy for Ryan. It was covered up in the garage, waiting for her to figure out how exactly to get it under the tree.
It was her last week at work prior to the holidays, and she wouldn’t come back after that, since the new owners had already taken charge. She would do a handover this week and then say goodbye to the place forever. She couldn’t wait, even if she did feel a little sad about it. The relief outweighed the sadness.
She wasn’t seeing patients this week, since there was so much paperwork to do and so many meetings to attend with the new manager and staff. But she’d come to work feeling out of sorts. It was Monday morning, and she’d overeaten the day before. She and Ryan had ordered pizzas and she’d fallen victim to the picture of a chocolate lava cake on the menu, which she’d regretted as soon as she’d consumed the final bite. Ever since then, her stomach hadn’t felt right.
Her desk was covered with scattered papers. The computer screen was bright, and a headache thudded at the base of her skull. She pressed both hands to her head and massaged it gently. She had to get through today and then she could collapse in bed with a wet cloth on her forehead and go to sleep.
There was a knock at the door, and Tracey, the new manager, poked her head through the opening. “You free?”
Matilda swallowed, hoping to banish the sickness with a positive attitude. Mind over matter, as her dad had always said. She stood up and beckoned Tracey into the room.
“Yes, I’m free. Come in. Take a seat.”
Tracey sat in the chair opposite her and crossed her ankles. “I love what you’ve done with the place. It really is delightful.”
“Thanks so much. I know you’ll love it here.”
“Do you mind me asking, was there a reason you wanted to sell?”
Matilda hadn’t been ready for such a blunt approach. Generally, Southerners came at their questions in a roundabout way. “Um… well.” She cleared her throat. “I found it to be a lot of work. I’m sure you’ll be fine, though.”
“I know what you mean. I’ve managed two other clinics before this one. It can be hard.”
“I didn’t really have anyone to share the load with me. I mean, I had my staff, but I felt pretty alone, and I realised I’m just not that person. I don’t think I’m an entrepreneur at heart.”
“Well, the way you’ve set this place up, I’d probably disagree with you on that. You really nailed the branding. And the procedures you have in place make it run so smoothly. You’ve got a knack for business—there’s no questioning that.”
Matilda looked around her carefully but simply decorated office and smiled. “Wow, thanks. That’s so kind of you. It makes me feel a little better, actually.”
“I’m glad. But you should know, when a corporate group owns the clinics, like the one I work for, they make sure you have administrative support in everything you do. You really should’ve had a full-time administrator with the number of patients on your books. You were trying to do too much. That was the problem, in my opinion. Don’t be hard on yourself — it’s not that you’re bad at it, or that you can’t cope with it. It’s that you were overworked. It happens to most people the first time they step out on their own. They don’t know how much they could be delegating because it’s hard to give up the reins like that.”
Matilda sat with that for a moment. Tracey was right. She should’ve let someone else in. She’d felt alone in running the clinic because she was. Why hadn’t she looked for more help? “I guess I didn’t think I could get help with those things. But you’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks.”
“I didn’t want you to give up on yourself. That’s all.”
Matilda looked at Tracey with a new level of respect. The woman’s red bob and sparkling green eyes gave her a bouncy, happy look. But there was more depth to her than she’d seen.
