Chapter 3: Was this a small-town thing?

(Jaime)

We pick up our luggage and are immediately approached by a middle-aged, stocky man in a grey suit and goatee. He too stares at me more than usual. It made me a bit uncomfortable.

“You must be Doctors Delaney, McCormack and Greywood,” he says after he stopped staring and shakes each one’s hand. “Welcome to Claw Ridge. I’m sorry your visit is so short this time around. This way, please,” he says and takes the lead towards a black SUV parked at the curb.

Like a gentleman, he takes my luggage and places it in the back compartment before opening the door to passenger seat and ushering me in. The guys climb into the back. When we are all seated, he finally introduces himself.

“I’m Dr. Aaron Waters. I’m the attending physician and you’ll be working closely with me if you get the internship.”

We take turns asking Aaron about the town and the work while he drives us to a what looked like a boutique hotel a block off the main street.

“I’ll send one of the nurses to come and fetch you in two hours. Please make yourself comfortable in the meantime. There’s a delightful little diner just around the corner if you feel the need to grab a bite for lunch.”

I like the idea of the little diner. While I still hadn’t officially announced my retirement from modelling yet, I have given myself permission to be a little less strict with my diet until I know what the future really held.

The Angels event was just two days ago, and I spent most of yesterday just sleeping and binge-watching that show everyone had been raving about but that I never had time to watch. For the first time in many years, I had stuffed out on a bowl of popcorn and had a whole glass of orange juice, and I felt a giddy but happy guilt about it.

After a quick freshening up, I go to look for the diner.

It is a lovely spot called Emily’s, with gingham tablecloths and a warm fire crackling away in a large stone fireplace at the back. A little bell jingles as I enter through the door and a beautiful young girl saunters over with a menu once I slide into a cream-leathered booth.

The girl makes a weird sniffing motion as she approached me, then smiles and hand me a menu.

“Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu?” she asks.

“Just a water, please,” I smile back, and the girl turns on her heels to fetch it for me. The bell above the door jingles and the two rivals for my internship walks in.

“Can we join you?” David asks and I smile at him.

“Sure, some company would be great.”

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Both guys slide into the booth seat opposite from me. The waitress returns to the booth with my water and two more menus.

“Hi there. Anything I can get for you while you look at the menus?” she asks the men with a much warmer tone than she did me. I do a mental eyeroll in my head. Like that, are we? But I shrug it off. David is quick to order.

“A cheeseburger with fries, and a coke please,” he orders.

“A club sandwich and a coffee,” Mike pitches in.

“And a grilled chicken salad for me, please.”

It’s hard to break a habit, even though I know I could now. Besides, I didn’t want to order something carb-heavy or sugary that would make me sluggish just when I need to be at my sharpest in an interview.

“Model food?” David smirks with a lifted eyebrow as the waitress moves towards the kitchen with our orders.

I sigh. “Yes. And healthier than your burger. You should try it sometime,” I jest.

“Hey, don’t judge. I need comfort food when I’m nervous. And interviewing for your first internship is nerve-wrecking.”

The three of us share some good-natured banter about who will stand the best chance of getting the internship while we eat our meals, which didn’t take too long to arrive. The diner isn’t packed, but there are at least four other booths with people having lunch. Once again, I find that these townsfolk are staring at me more than usual.

Is this a small-town thing that I’d need to get used to?

We go back to our separate rooms after lunch to prepare for the upcoming interviews. When we emerge in the hotel’s foyer a while later, ready to be picked up, we are all neatly dressed and professional looking.

“Jeez, you were gorgeous before but now you’re drop-dead gorgeous, in a professional kind of way. We don’t stand a chance, do we?” David commented as he eyes me up and down.

Despite myself I blush and frown as I try to figure out if he had a double meaning in that sentence. Then I opt for a neutral answer.

“Thanks. You guys scrub up well too.”

I know I look nice with a navy pencil skirt that fell to just below my knees, white and blue striped collared blouse, and plain, low-heeled pumps. It’s not anything fancy, but it’s from a top-notch designer and I’m aiming for professional.

The big difference from before, when I wore plain blue jeans and a cream-colored sweater, is that I’m now wearing a light smattering of makeup, and my caramel-blonde hair is arranged in a loose bun at the back of my head. With my hair back like this, my eyes stand out more than usual and it’s often the first thing that people notice about me.

We wait in the foyer with nervous chatter until a clearly rushed young woman in a nurses’ scrubs bustles in.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she gushes, barely looking at us. “A kid had an arm that needed to be splinted just before I was about to leave.”

The drive towards the hospital is tense, despite the nurse, Becky, chattering constantly. When she first noticed me, she did the same sniffing thing that the waitress at the diner had done, but she remained friendly. I didn’t question it.

The hospital is not that far away. We could probably have walked there if we wanted to. It is just on the outskirts of the beautiful town, surrounded by well-kept gardens out front, and massive old trees at the back that forms the start of the tree line of the surrounding forest. It is a serene setting, and I love the look of it.

Us three are ushered into a hallway and into waiting seats lined next to a closed door, and offered bottles of water while we wait. It isn’t long before David is called in first.

“Good luck David,” I said, and the young man flashes me a nervous smile before he disappears into the office beyond the door.

Shortly after, Mike is called into a different office just next to the one we are waiting at, and I get called soon after to yet another office.

When I enter, I’m met by an elderly man that looks to be in his eighties. He has a mop of white hair, weathered skin, and an almost surprised expression when he takes my hand in his in greeting.