sure the commercials worked, to a degree, and especially with the female audience. Savion, just like Campbell and their father, was a handsome man, and possessed enough charisma to sell sand at the beach. Still, she thought a change of pace would be nice. “I just think it would be good to film an updated concept, something new to add to the rotation of ads.”
He wore his skepticism like a mask. “Hadley, why rock the boat? People know me as the spokesman for MHI. It’s comforting, familiar. And isn’t that what we’re all about? Providing clients with comfort?”
She sighed. This conversation isn’t going anywhere. Once again, her brother had dismissed her idea before she’d even had a chance to properly express it. “Never mind, Savion.” She rose from the seat, vowing not to waste any more of her time on the matter—at least not today. “I’m going to go deliver the forms to their rightful owner.”
Savion nodded, then returned his attention to his planner.
On the heels of his nonverbal dismissal, Hadley left the office, seeking out her other brother. Before she could make it to the end of the hall, Campbell dashed out of his office and jogged past her.
Spinning around, she called after him. “Cam. You have to get this stack of repair requests—”
“Not now, Hadley. I’ve got a meeting.” He kept walking, his long strides taking him out of the corridor and into the main lobby.
She followed him, half tempted to shake her fist. “A meeting or a date?”
He glanced back at her long enough to shoot her a crooked grin. “Don’t hate, sis.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cam. It’s the middle of the day. You have to do some actual work around here.”
“I’ll get to it later,” he called back as he slipped out through the glass doors, letting them swing shut behind him.
Standing in the lobby alone, Hadley propped her fists on her hips, feeling her face crunch into a frown. Her work at MHI had begun to seem like a combination of babysitting and playing secretary, neither of which she’d signed up to do. Her brothers had always been expected to remain in Sapphire Shores and continue the Monroe legacy of controlling most of the rental property on the island. As the baby of the family, and the only girl, she hadn’t had those expectations placed on her. Still, she loved her hometown, and loved her family more. When she’d turned down an executive position out of state to work for the family business as office manager, she hadn’t considered it a sacrifice. But as time went by, and she put in more and more work only to be dismissed and undervalued by her brothers, she wondered if she’d made the right choice.
With a shake of her head, she returned to her office. The small digital clock on the desk told her it was almost noon, and as she plopped down in her chair, she contemplated what she’d do for lunch. Leaving the office sounded fabulous, so she decided she’d walk a few blocks down to the nearby shopping center to grab something. The walk would likely do her good by helping to clear her mind and giving her time to let her irritation with her brothers dissipate.
She eyed the stack of repair requests still sitting on her desk. Eight of their rental units needed some repair or other, and four of those were currently occupied. As was standard, those units with people staying in them would take priority over vacant ones. She thought about Campbell, and with no idea of where he’d gone or when he’d be back, she picked up the phone to call the plumbers and technicians needed for the occupied units.
Erring on the side of caution helped her cope with situations like this, and as she waited for the plumber to answer her call, she vowed to give Campbell a smack upside his head the next time she saw him.
* * *
Devon thumbed through the pages of Reader’s Digest as he sat in the waiting room of Stinger Urgent Care. He’d only been in town for forty-eight hours, and already the pain from his herniated disk had become worrisome enough to bring him here. This was the last place he’d wanted to spend the first Friday of his winter vacation, but there hadn’t been any way to avoid it.
Trying to take his focus off the pain in his back, he half read an article in the magazine. While he read, he shifted his hips in the seat, a vain attempt at getting comfortable. But with the searing pain radiating through his low back, achieving comfort was an impossibility.
“Mr. Granger?” A scrubs-clad nurse appeared in the doorway to his left, her gaze cast down at the clipboard in her hand. “Devon Granger?”
He put the magazine down and stood, approaching the nurse.
As he walked up, she looked up from her clipboard. Her eyes immediately grew five sizes larger. “Oh. My. God. You’re that Devon Granger?”
Despite his discomfort, he managed a smile. He had a lot of genuine gratitude for his fans—their support had given him a very good life. “Yes. And you are?”
Blushing, she looked away, seeming to struggle to remember her name. “I’m...uh...Marla. It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Granger. I loved you in Reach for the Sky... It’s my favorite movie of all time.”
“Thank you, Marla. And please, call me Devon.”
A giggle he’d expect to hear from a teenager erupted from her lips, and she stifled it. “Oh my goodness. Let me stop holding you up. Follow me to your exam room.” She started walking down the narrow corridor leading to the rear of the clinic.
He followed her, still a bit amused by the encounter. A few seconds later, she escorted him into a room complete with the typical doctor’s office setup: a counter with a sink, a short wheeled stool, a chrome and plastic chair, and a paper-covered bed.
As he took a seat in the chair, she spent a few moments taking his vital signs. That done, she headed for the door.
“Dr. Stinger will be in to see you soon.” Still smiling, she departed, closing the door behind her.
The hard seat and backrest of the chair made him nostalgic for the one in the waiting area; at least it had been padded. The stiff material wasn’t helping his pain any, so he got up and moved to the bed, which was set in the upright position.
He was scooting his hips onto the paper-covered surface when the door swung open.
Dr. Steven Stinger, dressed in dark slacks and a white medical coat embroidered with his name, entered the room and closed the door behind him. A Black man in his late forties, Dr. Stinger wore a pair of black-framed glasses perched on the end of his nose, as well as the traditional stethoscope draped over his neck. “Mr. Granger. What brings you here today?” He took a seat on the wheeled stool and looked Devon’s way.
Settling back against the bed, he released a breath. “My back. I have a herniated disk, and I can’t deal with the pain anymore.”
Dr. Stinger slid the clipboard holding what Devon assumed to be his medical chart from beneath his arm and jotted something on it. “Which disk?”
He swiveled to his left, gesturing to his tailbone region. “It’s in the sacrum area.”
“Oh. That’s a particularly uncomfortable spot.” He scribbled some more. “How long have you had the injury, and how have you been dealing with the pain so far?”
“It’s been about a month. I injured myself doing a stunt on my last film...”
