Page 9 of Healed By the Grumpy Elf
“Don't forget, the Knitters Club is hosting a welcome event for you this evening at the Wandering Gnome. Six o'clock sharp. Mrs. Primrose just called to ask me to remind you.”
I freeze in the act of removing my white coat.
"I wasn't informed of any welcome event."
Mrs. Beckham turns to me with a frown.
"It was in the welcome packet the mayor sent over to your cottage last week." Her tone is innocent, but I detect a hint of amusement in her eyes.
"I'll need to cancel. There's too much work to be done here before patients arrive tomorrow."
“Cancel?” Mrs. Beckham's hands actually stop their perpetual motion for a moment. "On Mrs. Primrose?"
She laughs, a tiny tinkling sound like miniature bells.
"Dr. Reizenhart, with all due respect, nobody cancels on Evelyn Primrose. The last person who tried was Sheriff Wolfsbane himself, and she showed up at the station with her knitting bag and sat in his office until he agreed to attend. She's not above dragging you there by those pointy elf ears of yours."
I bristle at the notion of being dragged by my ears. I’m a doctor, not a naughty school child. "I have no interest in social gatherings outside of my medical practice."
"It's not about interest, Doctor. It's about becoming part of this community." Her expression softens. "Medicine in a small town like ours is more than procedures and prescriptions. It's about trust. And trust begins with knowing who's treating you."
I maintain my stoic expression, but internally, I acknowledge the logic of her statement. A physician who is known and trusted will have patients who actually follow medical advice. It's practical, not sentimental.
"I will make a brief appearance," I concede stiffly. "Very brief."
"Of course, Doctor." She nods, but there's a look in her eyes that suggests she believes I'll be stuck at the Wandering Gnome far longer than I intend.
She's wrong.
The sooner everyone in Saltford Bay understands how things will be run under my care, the better for all concerned.
Chapter 3
Maeve
Parent-teacherconferencenightisalways organized chaos, no matter how much we prepare for it.
Still, we're all going to do our best. Student artwork depicting spring scenes and underwater adventures line the walls along with the smiling pictures of the children and their teachers, though the fluorescent lights cast everything in a slightly harsh glow.
Time to start this show.I glance down at my watch and adjust the name tag pinned to my cardigan, then take a deep breath that turnsinto a long yawn.
I'm only greeting parents and directing people inside the school tonight, but I've been here since seven this morning and my fatigue is starting to show.
Still, I always volunteer for parent-teacher conference night. People have come to expect it.
I sweep my gaze across the main hallway where chairs have been arranged in waiting areas outside each classroom. Everything is in order, as it should.
My stomach growls, reminding me I skipped dinner in my rush to prepare. I snag a star-shaped sugar cookie from the refreshment table and take a bite, groaning in pleasure at the hint of vanilla and lemon flavors that are hallmarks of Mrs. Flannery's baking. The school's cafeteria witch may be strict with portion sizes at lunch, but she never skimps on flavor.
"Maeve!" Harriet's voice cuts through the low murmur of parent conversations. She weaves around two chatting mothers, her cheeks flushed and hair escaping its professional bun. "You're here already!"
"Said I'd help, didn't I?" I brush cookie crumbs from my hands.
"You've been working since before class." Harriet narrows her eyes. "You don't need to stay all evening."
"I'm fine." I wave away her concern. "I'm just the greeter. It's fun and I get to meet all the new parents as well."
"All work and no play, Maeve." She gives me that look I know too well, the one that says she can see right through me. "You need to get a life outside this school."