Page 46 of Chosen Path
“No referral to a counselor or anything?” Molly interrupted. She lined up the insulin vials in a neat row on the table and looked over Hope’s shoulder.
“He tried. But at that time, the closest counselor who took Corrine’s insurance was down in Burlington and it just wasn’t feasible for her to make that drive.”
“Anything after that?” Bodhi asked.
“After that, there’s just a note in the file that says Doc made a photocopy of Derek’s entire file and sent it to his new doctor. Derek moved from one teeny Canadian border town to another, by the way. Doc made a note in his file that this new doctor didn’t even have a fax machine and that he spoke French. Doc didn’t seem impressed.”
Molly laughed. “I can just picture Rolf’s reaction. This is a great find, Hope. I bet Officer Booth will be able to track Derek down through that doctor. Even if he has moved on from the town.”
She grabbed the file and headed for the office. Hope flushed with pleasure at the thought that her work might contribute to something bigger. Bodhi gave her a vague smile, like his mind was elsewhere.
“Something bothering you?”
He nodded toward the insulin. “Even if this is Derek’s, there’s no reason why Corrine should be getting it at her address if she and Derek weren’t in contact. So why was it delivered to her?”
Hope squinted at the little glass bottles filled with clear, lifesaving liquid and shook her head.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Molly left a message for Officer Booth, who was off duty until the morning. She left a second message for the doctor in Maine, then she turned out the lights in the library and returned to the kitchen. She’d done all she could do for Derek Wolf tonight, and she was determined to enjoy a dinner with interesting company.
Having both Bodhi and Hope in the old Victorian all day had made her realize how solitary her existence had become in Scandia Bluff. She saw her patients, of course. At least when they didn’t cancel on her. But she hadn’t found a way to weave herself into the village’s social life. She rarely shopped at the little stores in the square or ate in the handful of restaurants. She’d attended one event at the library—a foreign film festival where she’d first met Hope and Nancy Grant, the librarian. And that was pretty much the extent of her involvement in village life. Mainly, she worked, she slept, and then she worked again. Uncle Al would be disappointed in her. Well, no more.
“Let’s eat in the dining room,” she suggested brightly when she returned to the kitchen.
“That sounds like fun,” Hope agreed.
They set the table and lit some candles while Bodhi finished stir-frying the vegetables and grated some fragrant fresh ginger root over the rice. He carried the serving bowls into the dining room and placed them on the vintage sidebar that had come with the house. Actually, all of Doctor Larson’s furniture had remained in the house. With no living family, Rolf Larson’s estate was earmarked for the county animal rescue center, which happily accepted a check from Molly for Doc’s furniture.
So the house was almost identical to how it had been when Doc had lived there. She had bought a new mattress because sleeping on a dead man’s ancient, musty mattress was not in her life plan and had boxed up the doctor’s framed photographs, books, personal letters, and other ephemera. Six months later, the boxes were still piled up in the smallest of the spare bedrooms. She didn’t know what on earth to do with them, but she didn’t have the heart to throw away the mementos of the village’s beloved long-time doctor. She felt as if she were the steward of his legacy but she didn’t have the faintest idea how to preserve it.
Bodhi made another trip to the kitchen for his glass of water and returned with the bottle of wine. As Molly refilled her glass, inspiration struck.
“Hope, I inherited, for lack of a better word, all of Doctor Larson’s personal papers, photographs, and books, among other things. Would the library be interested in any of it? I mean, he was a fixture in the village and an important part of its history.”
Hope’s eyes sparkled with excitement, but after a moment, she sighed. “Maybe, but I doubt it. Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a fantastic idea, but Mrs. Grant isn’t big on history.”
“Really?” Bodhi was surprised.
“I know, it seems like the village librarian would be all about preserving the community’s stories and traditions. There is a small local history section at the library, but it’s sparse, at best. She’s much more interested in curating a good selection of foreign films and building up the young adult books. She’s already developed a first-rate children’s collection. But, history, not so much.”
Molly deflated. “So much for that idea.”
Bodhi passed the rice bowl to Hope. “But you could do it, right?”
She blinked in surprise, and the serving spoon in her hand hovered above the mound of rice. “Me?” she squeaked.
“You said your dream is to be an archivist. Wouldn’t creating an archive of the village doctor’s papers be right up your alley. You could do it here.” He turned to Molly. “You must have, what six rooms that you’ve closed off and aren’t using?”
“Eight, actually.”
“See?” He took a serving of the stir-fried vegetables and passed the platter. “It’s perfect.”
Molly and Hope eyed each other across the table. Molly tried to gauge Hope’s interest level. She was bouncing lightly on her seat. Clearly not disinterested. Molly grinned.
“What do you think?”
“I’d love to. I mean, I’ll still help you organize the patient records because that system is unusable by anyone but Doc. But this would be a passion project for me. We could even expand the scope a tiny bit and collect papers from other families. I realized when I was explaining the council to you two that there’s no repository collecting information like that. Someday the last founding family will die out, and the Ättestupa Council will die with it.”
