Chapter 63

Claire POV

For the next few weeks I devoted myself to the clinic, happy to dive into work that felt familiar after so much in my life had changed.

Returning to work felt like coming home.

And while I’d rather bury the whole topic in a deep hole and cover it up, the disaster of an interview with that reporter at the palace had done at least some good:

Word was now spreading about my reputation as a healer.

At first I was embarrassed by the attention, but then I realized people coming back to the clinic was a good thing. They needed to know this was a place that cared about them, where they could once more get the care they needed.

All I had to do was get the clinic in shape, so we could actually give people that care.

But I certainly had my work cut out for me.

I worked double shifts, first on the floor with patients and then in my new role as administrator. It was slow going, getting used to the new role, but after a few weeks I began to see real change and improvement in my surroundings.

A maintenance crew began to clean and repair surface level issues from the top floor down. I had the old unpleasant lighting replaced with warmer, more energy efficient fixtures. While we couldn’t yet afford to replace the floors, a cleaning company came and scrubbed them till they shone.

Satisfied that all the work that could be done at the moment was currently under way, I took a rare moment to lean back in the chair at my desk, close my eyes and just breathe.

And hope the breathing would help ease the pain throbbing in my head.

A soft knock on the door drew my attention. I smiled to myself, eyes still closed, already knowing who it was.

“Come in, Dr. Baldwin,” I said, opening my eyes.

Dr. Baldwin came into the office, lab coat slung over his arm and his tie loosened. I checked the clock - it was the end of the work day already.

“Princess, I just took a walk through the upper floors,” he said. “The place looks amazing. I haven’t felt this kind of energy here in a very long time.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling. “That means a lot to me.”

I sat forward in my chair, trying not to wince as the movement caused a surge of pain in my forehead.

But Dr. Baldwin was observant, especially when it came to pain.

“Another headache?” he asked, his voice full of sympathy.

I started to nod, then stopped myself just in time. Even that small motion could hurt when my head got like this.

“May I?” He circled the desk, setting down his lab coat.

“Yes, please,” I said, gratefully.

When he placed his cool hands on my head I sighed, the pain and tension simply melting from my head, my neck, my shoulders.

Even though these healing sessions were becoming a routine to try to deal with my chronic headaches, I was always amazed at his ability.

“You’re a miracle worker, Dr. Baldwin.”

He gave me a shy smile as he stepped away. “I just do what I can. But you,” he pointed a finger at me. “You are doing too much. These tension headaches prove it.”

I nodded, unable to deny it. Being an administrator was an entirely new role for me, and I spent every day worrying that I wasn’t doing enough. That I wasn’t good enough.

“I just want to do a good job, that’s all.”

“You’re doing an excellent job, Princess. Now come on. Time to clock out. I’ll walk you to your car.”

We walked out to the parking lot together, another routine that was developing. One that I was coming to look forward to.

The next day I returned to work refreshed and well rested, ready to tackle the issue of staffing.

The clinic, since it began to decline, had lost many of its doctors and nurses to other clinics and hospitals further away. As a result, the building was severely understaffed.

I had a dozen interviews lined up to try to fix that.

But I was very surprised to look up and find the first applicant of the day was actually someone I knew. Someone from the Silverfang clinic.

“Dr. Green - or, should I say, Princess,” Devin said with a smile as we shook hands. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Devin, what a wonderful surprise,” I said as we both sat. “What are you doing here in the Royal pack?”

“Well, to be honest, it’s because of you. I followed you.”

I blinked in surprise. “You followed me? What do you mean?”

“I really admired the way handled the crisis at the clinic, when the healing tonics were tampered with? And after that situation, I found myself interested in making medicines.

“Since I don’t have any close family back at Silverfang, I decided to apply for work here. And,” she added with a smile, “try to talk you into taking me on as an apprentice.”

Flattered, I hired her on the spot.

The rest of the day proved nearly as well - of the twelve people I interviewed, I hired eight more. While we still needed a number of administrative staff, I felt satisfied I’d made a good dent in our need for nurses, doctors and clinicians.

But I did put finding a secretary for myself at the top of my list.

Once the final interview was over, I still had what felt like a mountain of paperwork to do before I could go home.

Feeling the first twinge of what was quickly becoming my daily headache, I reached for the first folder on the pile.

An hour later I was still dealing with that first file, papers spread out over my desk, a frown line between my eyes and the tension headache creeping down into my neck.

These were the banking records for the clinic going back quite a few years. It was clear they’d been shoved in together during that time, with no organizational attempts at putting them in order.

Once I had that order, I saw a clear pattern: the clinic was perpetually broke.

No wonder the place is in such disrepair, I thought with surprise.

This at least partially explained the almost dire situation I was now faced with digging the clinic out of.

Shuffling the papers together, I returned them to the file, then put it in my briefcase. I’d deal with the rest of the paperwork tomorrow. Tonight I needed to have a conversation with my father.

I needed the rest of the explanation about the clinic.

Why had he let it fall apart like this?

Returning to the palace, I found Dad in his office, his reading glasses perched on his nose.

“Ah, Claire! How was your day at the clinic?” he asked.

I gave him a kiss on the cheek, then settled into a chair. “Productive. I hired nine new staff members!”

“That’s wonderful, dear. The clinic is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you.” I hesitated, then took a breath.

I knew this subject was probably very sensitive, and didn’t want thinking about the clinic - and my mother - to trigger one of his episodes.

But I needed to know what had been going on at what was now my clinic.

“Dad…I’ve been reviewing the banking information for the clinic. And, well, there just isn’t a lot of money there. I know the clinic is probably something you haven’t wanted to think about, but it needs more funding.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Darling, is it truly that bad? It’s true, I haven’t spent much time there since your mother passed, but I always made sure to give the place a healthy amount of funding.

“Keeping that clinic going is what your mother would have wanted. If you need more money, you’re certainly welcome to it. Take whatever you need.”

I thanked my father, noting that some of the larger construction projects might need some of that help he was offering.

But in my heart I was troubled, and I worried about the issue the rest of the night.

If Dad had been funding the clinic as regularly as he said, then…

Where had all that money been going?