I wave off her comment, even though I wish I would have too. “I’ll just grab something with caffeine at lunch,” I tell her, already thinking about walking down and buying a coffee and an Italian chicken wrap from the diner.
“You know, Doc probably won’t be here for another fifteen minutes or so. You could run down and grab something. I’ll check in the first appointments,” she offers, but it falls on deaf ears. I’d never agree to that, letting someone do my job, just so I can grab a drink.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m good,” I insist, heading toward the front office area to say good morning to the others.
Fiona, the office manager, is already at her desk working and offers a wave and a smile without removing her eyes from her computer screen. Becky, the front desk clerk arrives moments later, always teetering on the line of being late, and flies through her morning routine of powering everything up before our first patients arrive.
I walk through the exam rooms, making sure everything is ready to go, even though they should already be set. The last thing we do after a patient vacates the room is prep it for the next one, and that includes the last patient of the day. But we always make sure the rooms are clean and ready, which they are.
Finally, I take today’s patient list from Allison and check them over. Dr. Houston is a GP, or general practitioner, which means we see a variety of ages and ailments throughout the day. He does have a few maternity patients, but not many, since most of them drive over to North Ridge and see the obstetrics practice over there. It looks like one of his expecting mothers is on the schedule this morning, and I admit, these appointments are some of my favorites.
When patients start to arrive, I get to work, checking them in. There are three exam rooms, and we schedule them in rotation fifteen minutes apart. Sometimes we get behind, but usually not too bad. At least, we haven’t since I arrived here.
What I love most about working at a small-town clinic, as opposed to the city one I came from, it feels so much more personal. In just a short amount of time, I feel like I know the patients on a more personal level, as if we’re becoming friends. I’ve discovered an older woman named Gladys brings homemade bread to every appointment she has. Last week, it was zucchini, and I was told the time before that, strawberry banana. Allison said her pumpkin loaf is one of the best she’s ever tasted, and I honestly can’t wait for that.
The patients share stories about their families, work, or everyday life in Cooper Town, and as someone who recently moved, it gives me a look into the lives of those here. I feel like a part of it all, even after just a short amount of time, and I appreciate the vibe I get here.
When all three of the first appointments are situated in rooms, Dr. Houston comes in, looking a bit frazzled. “Good morning,” he greets, moving quickly into his office and preparing to see patients.
“Good morning, Doctor. Your first appointments are ready,” I tell him.
He nods, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck and making sure his pockets are filled with what he needs. “Janice Dorshe will need blood work. Can you go ahead and do the draw?” he asks, clearly having already checked his morning schedule before arriving.
“Allison is already on it,” I tell him, earning a warm smile.
“Thank you,” he says before grabbing the chart outside Room 1 and knocking. He slips inside and offers a warm greeting to the patient before enclosing them inside the room to conduct the appointment.
Just as I turn to head to the nurses’ station, Becky hollers from the doorway, “Hey, Oaklee, someone’s here to see you.”
Curiosity piques immediately, because I can’t imagine who might be here. Everyone I know is either here at work with me or the few friends I’ve made since I arrived in town, but they all have jobs and wouldn’t just drop by to my knowledge. Text messages, sure, but stopping by the clinic? I don’t think so.
I move to the front check-in area and find the young woman who owns the coffee shop down the street. “Hi,” I greet when I reach the counter.
“Hi, Oaklee. I’m here to make a delivery,” she says, placing an iced coffee and a white bag on the counter.
“A delivery?” I ask, wondering if Allison had made a call.
The woman smiles widely. “Yep! He left me very specific instructions to bring this to you and wish you a good morning.”
My mind spins.
Did Lance do this?
But as soon as that question enters my brain, I dismiss it completely. Lance never worried about me eating breakfast or getting a morning coffee while we were dating, let alone after we’ve broken up. In fact, I’m pretty sure Lance wouldn’t know how I took my coffee to be able to order something for me.
Which leaves the question…who?
“He said to tell you, you have his number.” Then, she turns to head out.
“Wait,” I blurt out, causing her to stop and spin around. “Let me get you a tip. I didn’t realize you delivered.”
She smiles and waves her hand. “I don’t but did this as a favor. And the tip has already been covered, thank you. Have a great day, Oaklee.”
I watch her walk out of the clinic, feeling the eyes of those around me.
“Umm, someone sent you breakfast? That was so sweet!” Becky proclaims from her position at the counter.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, grabbing the bag and the coffee.
