To Love Someone (Baytown Boys #14) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,41
I forgot to give you your drink.”
She grabbed one for herself and walked over to the dinette table, sliding onto the booth, nodding toward the other side in invitation. An invitation he wasn’t about to decline.
They drank in silence for a moment. He wanted to know more about her but wanted to avoid landmines. Something she’d said a moment earlier slammed into him, and he blurted, “You said you forgive fees when someone can’t pay.”
Her gaze jumped to his, then back down to her hands clasped around the beer bottle, a tinge of blush staining her cheeks. “Forget that. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Come on, Samantha. Don’t shut down on me now. What did you mean?”
Sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, she stared at her beer bottle a moment before lifting her gaze up to him. “North Heron is a very poor county. When people are in Baytown, or Easton, or Seaside, they can forget that. Especially Baytown. Little shops selling quaint merchandise. Restaurants. The public beach. Most of the town is adorable rental houses that fill up during the warm weather with families itching for a chance to see small-town life, fabulous beaches, and a place for their kids to run around.” She lifted her gaze back to his. “But beyond that, it’s rural. The cement factory shut down. Some of the farms have gone under. It’ll never be a vacation metropolis because of the environmental protections. Everything that makes it perfect to visit or for those of us that love it here also make it economically depressed.”
Understanding dawned on him. “And that affects your business.”
She hefted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Yes. I’m sure Jason gets a lot of business from travelers, vacationers and people who have car trouble while driving through the area. But, I’ll bet, for the people that live around here, he’s probably done work for free as well.”
“Embarrassed to say I haven’t thought about that, but I’m sure you’re right.” He shifted in his seat, realizing that while the tattoo shop wasn’t open often, the ones that came in could pay. It had never dawned on him how Jason might run the garage. Focusing his attention back on the beautiful woman sitting across from him, he asked, “And your clinic?”
“When I first came to the Eastern Shore, it was in answer to an advertisement for a veterinarian to join a small practice. The building was decent, the money flow was okay, and we had two techs that worked for us. But it didn’t take long to realize that we had a lot of clients who simply didn’t have the money to pay their bills in full. I know it frustrated the vet I worked with, but he let some people pay in installments, and even sometimes forgave part of the debt. When he left, I maintained the same practice.” Shrugging, “What else would we do?”
“And your staff?”
“To run a practice like ours, especially now that I’m the only fully licensed veterinarian, I need a good staff. I have one vet tech, one vet assistant, and the office manager. I’ve got a veterinarian intern which is as good as another veterinarian, and hopefully, he’ll want to stay when he graduates with what I can pay.”
“And so, you make sure everyone else is taken care of, including the animals and your clients, but what about you?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m living in a hovel! I saved up money and bought this land from the farmer next door. But that didn’t leave any money left over to build a home. I had enough money for this camper and got a really good deal. It was practically new and was left at one of the area campgrounds when the owners just abandoned it after not being able to make their payments. The campground sold it to me, I drove it out here, and figured it was good enough to live in for a couple of years until I had saved for a down payment.”
“There’s no denying this land is amazing.”
She didn’t respond but took another sip of her beer and nodded slowly. They continued to drink in silence for a few more minutes, but soon, the sound of Frodo’s snores reverberated through the camper, causing both of them to chuckle.
“Frodo?”
She blinked, fiddling with the label on her beer. “I suppose you’re asking about his name and the statues I collect.”