We chat about mundane things to keep our patient distracted. The work itself is dull, but the harmonious companionship that Mom and I settle into makes it bearable.
“Have you been experiencing any pain or discomfort lately?” Mom asks Monsieur Coutet at one point.
“I’ve been having some sensitivity in my back molars.”
She smiles like she expected that answer. “Let’s take a closer look.”
As always, her competence garners my admiration. I wish there were an area I could excel in like Mom does at dentistry. It must be such an empowering feeling, such a source of satisfaction, to be great at what you do! Me, I’m great at getting in trouble despite, admittedly, doing my best to avoid it.
I sneer at the bitter accuracy of my self-assessment.
Mom rolls a little back in her chair. “I’m afraid you’re going to need a filling, Monsieur Coutet.”
She goes on to explain why and what the procedure would involve. Wrapping up, she instructs him on proper dental hygiene and asks if he’d like to make an appointment for the filling, or if he prefers to get a second opinion.
“No, I trust you, Doctor,” he says.
I grab the tablet from the worktop, and we schedule an appointment. Mom hands him a mirror so that he can see the work she has done.
He bares his much whiter teeth, studies them, and then nods, looking pleased. As he pays and leaves, he thanks us both profusely.
“I think he was pleased with his visit,” I say to Mom.
“Yes, he seemed satisfied. Good work, Stella!”
I roll my eyes. “You’re the tooth fairy. I’m just the little helper mouse.”
But even as I deflect her compliment, part of me feels proud.
At half past noon, just as I’m seeing the morning’s last patient out, Dad bursts into the office.
“If you had lunch plans, cancel them!” he exclaims, bright-eyed. “I’m taking both of you to lunch.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“A victory for our village, for our community! Tonight, we’ll be toasting at the office, but I wanted to celebrate with my two favorite people first.”
“What victory?” Mom asks.
“Remember the offer I made to that fast-growing media start-up that was looking for an HQ?”
We nod.
“They picked my offer over a dozen others, including that smug Paul Debray,” Dad says, standing taller.
Mom gives him a wink. “Are you saying you succeeded in seducing a potential source of jobs and revenue for our village, where our jealous, gossipy neighbor failed to do that for his?”
“Paul Debray and Vosier-en-Bas can kiss my—” Dad interrupts himself. “I apologize, ladies. What matters is that Vosier-en-Haut won the tender. We’re going to have a new company here and more tax income to offer our people more services!”
His enthusiasm is so infectious that Mom and I clap our hands with delight. Dad is an extraordinary mayor—the kind any township would dream of.
If there is anything I know for certain it is that my parents are good people. They are the best, not just as parents, but also as human beings.
There is simply no way they’re holding Darrel against his will. I have no idea why he’s lying to me. Maybe for fun or for a much more complex reason.
But I know he is lying. And I’ll get to the bottom of it!
STELLA