“I am done with the excuses.”
“This desk cannot stop every time you get confused.”
Lorraine’s jaw tightened.
“I’m not confused.”
“I was given two different answers and blamed for choosing one.”
“Then figure it out.”
Priya snapped.
“Or do I need someone younger at this desk?”
The waiting room became completely silent.
Even the terrier stopped whining.
Talia Monroe froze near the treatment-room door.
She was twenty-six, one of Willow Creek’s veterinary technicians, and had been carrying a tray of blood tubes when she heard the sentence.
Lorraine looked at Priya for several seconds.
“Someone younger?”
Priya immediately realized she had crossed a line.
But instead of stopping, embarrassment pushed her forward.
“I’m saying this job moves quickly.”
“I don't care what the hallway says.”
“You're the receptionist.”
“You should know where people go.”
Lorraine stared at her.
“How, Priya?”
“These room numbers changed.”
“Nobody told me.”
Priya gestured toward the monitor.
“Then keep up.”
“I shouldn't have to babysit the front desk.”
Talia finally stepped closer.
“That wasn't the room list when Lorraine started this morning.”
Priya turned.
“Talia.”
Talia held the tray against her chest.
“The numbers were changed after six-thirty.”
Priya’s expression hardened.
“This does not concern you.”
“It concerns everyone if clients are being sent to rooms that were renamed without reception knowing.”
“Go back to treatment.”
Talia hesitated.
Lorraine looked down.
That hurt Talia more than anything.
Lorraine was rarely intimidated.
She had worked through screaming clients, grieving families, angry vendors, escaped cats, broken printers, software crashes, tornado warnings, and one memorable morning when an eighty-pound Labrador vomited an entire sock in front of the check-in desk.
She handled chaos with the steady patience of someone who had already survived more important things.
Lorraine did not look steady now.
She looked embarrassed.
That made Talia stay.
Priya turned back to Lorraine.
“I don't need another explanation.”
“I need you to do the job without holding up this clinic.”
Lorraine lifted her eyes.
“I did my job with the information your office left at my desk.”
Priya stared at her.
“Then maybe you're not capable of handling this desk anymore.”
A man sitting near the window stood.
He was in his early forties, dressed in a brown work jacket, and had been waiting with a sleepy black-and-white dog resting between his boots.
“Excuse me.”
Priya looked at him.
“Yes?”
The man pointed toward Lorraine.
“She gave you a reason.”
“You just keep finding new ways to embarrass her.”
Priya’s posture changed instantly.
“This is an employee matter, sir.”
“You need to stay out of it.”
The man’s name was Daniel Mercer.
He had arrived twenty minutes earlier after finding the dog wandering beside a highway entrance ramp.
He had no appointment.
No idea who the dog belonged to.
He had simply stopped because the animal was limping and seemed lost.
Lorraine had been the first person to greet him.
She had brought the dog water.
Called treatment.
Found an old towel.
And explained that the clinic could scan for a microchip even without an appointment.
Daniel had watched Lorraine manage six things at once without losing patience.
Now he watched Priya speak to her as though she could barely read.
Daniel said:
“Then manage the problem.”
“Stop humiliating the woman.”
Priya’s face flushed.
“Sir.”
“I am asking you to sit down.”
“No.”
He remained calm.
“I’m waiting for somebody to scan this dog.”
“I can wait quietly.”
“But I’m not going to pretend I didn't hear you blame her for signs you people changed.”
Priya’s voice dropped.
“Fine.”
She looked at Lorraine.
“Step away from the desk.”
Lorraine blinked.
“What?”
“You're done up here for today.”
“For following the room map you left at my desk?”