Love On Anchor Island: An Anchor Island Novel

the island, the small restaurant had sustained extensive damage from Hurricane Deloris. Residents had prepared for moderate water damage before evacuating, but the storm strengthened, and their efforts hadn’t been enough. Even he had two exam rooms left to repair, but the cafe reopening was a good sign that things would soon be back to normal.
Floyd Lewinski waved from the mailbox in front of the Trading Post as Alex drove by. The older man had canceled an appointment earlier in the week, and Alex made a mental note to pay him a visit. Floyd’s sweet tooth made managing his diabetes difficult, requiring an ever-watchful eye from his physician.
Even before med school, Alex had known that having a relationship with his patients would be far more important than money or prestige. As a child, watching his maternal grandmother, Dr. Blythe Hommel, care for the residents of tiny Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania, had cemented the idea in his mind. Unfortunately, his father and brother, a world-renown brain surgeon and a sought-after cardiologist respectively, didn’t see things his way.
They believed Alex was wasting his degree and talent, and insisted on more than one occasion that he return to Philadelphia to take his rightful place in the family business. For two years, he’d tried to make them understand, but in the last twelve months, he’d given up. Visits home were few and far between, though he called his mother every week. She was his only support in the family other than Grandma Blythe.
Approaching the home that doubled as his office, Alex spotted a familiar car in the Dempsey’s driveway next door. Beth had mentioned a cousin coming to visit, but she hadn’t said when the relative would arrive. Clearly, that day had come. And she just had to be a petite brunette driving a cherry-red muscle car. He couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Alex climbed from the Prius as Beth ran down the drive and nearly toppled the woman over with what looked like a bone-crushing hug. Behind her trailed five-year-old Mary Ann, curls dancing in the wind as she squealed with excitement. On the porch stood two-year-old Daphne, clutching the family dog, Dozer’s, fur and appearing much more leery of the newcomer.
Where Mary Ann was a wild soul who would no doubt rule the world someday, Daphne took a more cautious approach to life. Alex didn’t have a favorite between the two, but he related more to the younger child’s thoughtful nature.
He watched the introductions play out, and as Roxie bent to greet the rambunctious little girl, Alex noticed the similarities. Dark curls and a ready smile that split a heart-shaped face. If their brief interaction on the ferry was any indication, the personalities were similar as well. Lost in the scene, Alex lingered in the drive with his car door still open when Beth waved.
“Come meet my cousin,” she called, and Alex watched Roxie’s eyes widen then narrow. He could almost hear her thoughts. Not you again.
His own brain echoed the sentiment, but manners sent him into motion. Before he took two steps, a dark sedan tore into his drive, nearly taking out Alex and his car door as it whipped into the parking space beside him. Recognizing the driver, he sighed and prayed for patience. Knowing that Beth would recognize his guest as well, he sent a maybe later wave before stepping around to the new arrival.
“Mrs. Stamatis, are you supposed to be driving?” he asked while opening the door. They both knew the answer was no.
“There’s no time for that,” she snapped, winded as she climbed from the vehicle. “I’m dying. It’s real this time.”
Nota Stamatis’ near-death experiences were always real, until he found a reasonable explanation for whatever had sent her into a panic. Alex retrieved her cane from the passenger seat, then escorted his patient into the house.
“What makes you think you’re dying today?”
“My fingers are numb,” she replied, crossing the threshold once Alex unlocked the door. “They were tingling, and then they went numb. That’s a sign of a stroke. When Millie Bonneville’s husband had his stroke, that’s what he’d told her right before. That his hands were tingling. Dr. Fielding, you have to do something.”
Her color was good, and her words were clear, but a stroke was nothing to play with.
“How is your vision?” he asked.
She propped a hand on her hip. “The problem is in my hands not my eyes.”
“Blurred vision is another sign of a stroke.” Alex led Nota into the first exam room. “Have a seat while I pull your chart.” Because Nota was a regular visitor, they kept her file in a special, easily accessible spot. He returned to the room in seconds to find her as alert as when he’d left. “Any dizziness?”
Sensing her panic might have been a bit premature, the older woman mumbled, “Not yet.”
“Is the numbness in both hands or only one?”
Nota flexed her fingers. “Both of them.”
Alex reviewed her prescriptions, checking the list of possible side effects. As he’d guessed, the explanation for this episode was the same as in previous cases.
“I don’t believe you’re on the verge of a stroke,” he said. “The tingling and numbness are most likely side effects of the new arthritis medication we started last week. Have you experienced any other symptoms? Slurring your words? Fatigue? Muscle weakness?”
“I was a bit tired this morning.”
Knowing his patient well, he said, “Wasn’t your book club meeting last night?”
Busted, she nodded. “Yes. And yes, I might have had a few gin and tonics.”
He hugged the file to his chest. “We’ve talked about mixing alcohol with your prescriptions.”
“I don’t do it all the time.” Imminent death no longer a concern, Nota’s attention swung to his neighbors, whom she could see through the window. “Is that a stranger with Beth Dempsey?”
Alex played dumb. “Might be.” He followed her gaze. “I’ve never seen the car before.” Technically not a lie if by before he meant before this morning.
The two women each dragged a suitcase