Moonstone Read Online Free Page B

remember. Joy had watched her fit everyone from the town mayor to Mr. Grady, the mortician, with stylish frames. No matter who it was, she had customers smiling into her mirrors by the end of their visit. She’d been Sam Henderson’s optician and right hand for years. Joy doubted she liked the idea of a new boss.
    Joy glanced from Helen to Chloe and then slapped the coffeemaker soundly. A moment later the machine coughed into reluctant duty.
    “Thank god,” Helen said.
    “No kidding,” Chloe murmured. “I thought maybe it was a sign.”
    Joy didn’t admit that she was thinking the same thing. She was ready to throw in the towel before she’d seen her first patient. “Okay, let’s get this day over. Who’s my first appointment?”
    Helen hurried to the front desk and returned with a patient record and a grim smile. She motioned toward Exam Room One as she handed Joy the manila file. “Mr. MacDaniels. He’s a bit gruff and always shows up early. You might want to get him out of here sooner rather than later.”
    Joy wanted a sip of coffee first, but she knew well enough to take a receptionist’s advice on difficult patients. She plastered a smile on her face and opened the exam room door. Benjamin MacDaniels was at least eighty and had been hard of hearing since 1995, according to a longhand notation her father had made in the record. Joy steadied her thoughts as she stared at the familiar handwriting.
    Mr. MacDaniels had leaned the leather chair back as far as it would go and his eyes were closed. He didn’t open them at the sound of Joy’s cough. She cleared her throat a little louder and he cracked open his right eye. Joy stretched out her hand and he snorted. “We’ve already met. You realize I’ve been coming to see your father since before Ronald Reagan was president. We don’t need to shake hands. Your father used to keep you busy dusting the rooms.”
    “Right, of course. It’s good to see you again,” Joy said, holding on to her smile. She settled into her chair and took a deep breath. “So, any change in your vision since the last time you were in?”
    He tapped his ear. “Can’t hear a damn thing. Lost my hearing aid. You’ll have to shout.”
     
    The office was a converted attic on the second floor. She unlocked the door but hesitated before opening it. When she did, she stared at the cramped space for a long moment before stepping inside. She’d avoided the office on her walk-through that weekend because it still felt like her father’s space regardless of the paperwork from the lawyers.
    A bookcase covered one wall from floor to ceiling with books stacked end to end and then jammed on top of each other. The shelves sagged under the weight. Littered with stacks of papers, sticky notes and an ancient, hulking PC, the large desk claimed center stage. She glanced at the family photographs on the wall behind the desk. The photos were hung with multicolored thumbtacks and the color in most of them had faded. Her mother would have insisted that the pictures have frames and be properly hung, but this was Sam Henderson’s space, not hers.
    The blinds were drawn on the one window in the room, and she pulled these open, catching the scent of her father’s cologne as she did. The scent was as unsettling as every line of her father’s handwriting that she’d deciphered that day. She pushed away the thought of getting the drapes professionally cleaned. The smell would lessen with time, as would the emotions that accompanied it. The office window had as perfect a view of the ocean as the lounge had but from one floor up. Joy leaned against the windowsill and stared at the water.
    She’d cried at the funeral, of course. Afterward she’d wondered if in fact she’d cried because her father was gone or because she’d hardly known him. They’d never been close. Someday, she’d always thought, they’d find time to connect. But now she’d know her father’s patients, or at least their eyes,