AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 2 - Luna
Ten-month-old Franny Baker screeched the moment I administered the shot, effectively deafening the ticking of my biological clock. Working with adorable kids at Dr. Keller’s office often made me wonder what it would be like to have a little one of my own, but then something always brought me back to my senses. At twenty-eight, I still had plenty of time, and lots more I wanted to do before that kind of commitment.
Her mom blinked back her own tears and hugged her tight, assuring her it was for her own good. New moms were often worse babies than the babies themselves, especially when needles were involved. Now Franny was playing it up for sympathy, and I couldn’t help but smile at how clever she was as I held out the toddler-safe prize box. It was getting low, so I made a mental note to stop by the toy aisle at the grocery store and pick up more of the little stuffed animals. She laughed when I held up a fuzzy frog and that little ticking started up again at the musical sound. Babies were simply amazing, something I never seemed to notice all that much just a year ago.
Franny was the last patient of the day, and as I ushered them out, I locked the front door behind them, then set to cleaning up the patient rooms. Helen, the receptionist, was long gone by the time I was done, and as I clicked off the hall lights on my way out, I paused in Dr. Keller’s doorway.
“Good night, Doc,” I said.
He looked up from his tablet and blinked at me, sliding his reading glasses further down his aristocratic nose. His tuft of snowy white hair stood out above his ears and he self-consciously smoothed them down. At seventy-two, he refused to retire, was still sharp as a saber, and had more energy than I did most days. I normally asked him if he needed anything before I left, but I was in a time crunch that evening.
“Oh, good night, Luna,” he said, peering up at his clock. He seemed surprised and a little disappointed that the day was already over. I loved my job, but nowhere near as much as Dr. Keller loved doing his.
“Don’t work too late,” I said.
He grumbled at his tablet. “Just have a few more notes to enter. I miss paper charts, I’ll tell you that.”
I nodded and waved, having heard the same thing about a thousand times since we converted to electronic records several years before. He held out until the very end, the thought of having to learn the new system the only thing that made him come close to considering retirement. Now he was a whiz at it, but still complained out of habit.
I chugged down a coffee as I drove home, waiting impatiently for the sugar and caffeine to hit so I’d have enough energy to get everyone on my restoration committee excited about the upcoming movie night at the Dante Theater. It probably wasn’t the best idea to have a free screening when the place was in dire need of funds, but it was impossible to get anyone to go otherwise. I just knew if people went and remembered how much fun they used to have there as kids, they’d get on board with saving the place. I refused to believe the majority of the citizens of Loblolly would rather have a soulless shopping center over the historic Dante.
Back at my house, I hurriedly changed out of my brightly colored scrubs into a nice, flowy skirt and t-shirt. I only had ten minutes to get everything set up for the meeting, so I laid out the veggie tray I prepared before work that morning and put the cake I made the night before in the middle of my kitchen table. I’d bought extra plates at the thrift store, hating to use paper, and the mish mash of different styles looked pretty cute. I stayed on my feet, certain the moment my backside hit my couch I’d fuse to the cushions, and checked the time on my phone.
Everyone was ten minutes late, but that was to be expected on a weeknight. My legs felt like lead and I finally gave in to the siren call of my couch while I waited. It was fine, I could use that time to go over my talking points. Except, I knew the talking points backwards and forwards, so I rifled through the fliers I printed, hoping to get everyone to put them up around their respective neighborhoods. Twenty minutes, then half an hour passed with no one arriving, and I started to feel a little bit hurt. But, people were busy and things came up. I checked my phone, but there were no messages explaining a bizarre traffic jam or family emergency. No emails, either.
The chocolate layer cake I so carefully frosted so the little swirls all went in the same direction seemed to taunt me, telling me I needed to call it after forty-five minutes went by. Nobody was coming. Despite my hurt feelings, I was starving, so I made myself a veggie plate and cut a generous slice of cake. I was about to take a big bite when my best friend since kindergarten rushed in through the front door.
“I’m so sorry,” Harper said. She had on dark jeans and a blue and white dotted blouse, her long blonde hair swept up in an artfully messy ponytail. “We had a surprise meeting from Mrs. Artemus and I couldn’t exactly hustle her on her way.”
“Of course not,” I said. Since her older sister had recently passed away, Harper had become an instant mom to her seven-year-old niece, Addison. It should have been cut and dried, but Addy’s grandparents on her estranged father’s side came out of the woodwork and were fighting Harper for custody. Now she had to deal with social workers and lawyers on top of her full time job as a hairstylist, as well as helping her boyfriend renovate his old house. “I completely understand.”
She looked around my empty living room. “Did I miss it completely?”
I sighed and motioned for her to grab herself a piece of cake. “Nobody showed,” I admitted.
Her look of pity sliced deep. “That’s awful, Luna,” she said. I closed my eyes, waiting for her to continue. “But, maybe that should tell you something?”
I stifled an irritated sigh, determined not to sink into despair. “It was just a bad night to schedule it. I’ll see if people can do Sunday afternoon instead.”
“If nobody wants to show up on a Wednesday evening, they’re really not going to give up their Sunday afternoon,” she said. “If nobody cares enough to stick a flier on their light post or eat delicious cake while getting one of your signature pep talks, then maybe it’s time to give up on this project.”
“Well, thanks for the compliment on the cake, at least,” I said. But I’d be damned if I gave up on the Dante. “We can’t let that beautiful old building get torn down and replaced with a flat, ugly, gray box. I’m certain nobody really wants that.”
“If that box is full of stuff that costs a dollar I bet they do,” Harper replied. “I think it’s time to let it go. Architecture obviously doesn’t matter to people around here.”
The sigh I kept trying to stifle came out, my appetite ruined. “Okay, it’s not just the fact it’s a great building that’s full of charm. It’s also full of memories.History. You remember doing the Christmas plays and how fun it was. People don’t know what they’ve got until it’s gone, and I refuse to let losing the Dante be our town’s greatest regret. If I have to hang every last flier myself, I will.”
“Nobody’s going to even glance at those,” Harper said, nibbling on a carrot. “We need a better way to get their attention.”
“There’s the free screening on Saturday,” I reminded her. “Cary Grant classic.”
I could tell she was refraining from rolling her eyes. “That’s all fine and good, but what about something big, like a gala? People were donating crazy amounts at that one I went to in New York with Silas a few weeks ago. Nobody’s going to get hyped up about some old movies but they might about a big party.”
“That sounds like a ton of fun,” I said, warming to this new idea. “We could do an auction, get local businesses to donate for free advertising, maybe have a dance. Should we charge a cover fee?”
“Definitely. Silas said the tickets to the one we went to were three hundred bucks.”
We both shared a laugh over that, thinking ten dollars might be pushing our luck here in Loblolly, but spent the next hour hashing out ideas. It was nice not being alone in my endeavor, but I was fully prepared to go it on my own if I had to.
