Chapter 6 - Medical Intervention and Memories
The kitchen of the green house transformed into a sterile consultation room within minutes. Dr. Harrison moved with quiet efficiency, stethoscope pressed against Elena’s frail chest, blood pressure cuff humming softly as it tightened around her thin arm.
Junie stood beside Colton, her hand firmly planted in his coat pocket for grounding.
“What are they doing to her?” she whispered, her voice trembling for the first time all morning.
“They’re making sure she stays here to finish telling you stories,” Colton replied, keeping his voice steady and low. He looked down at her. “When was the last time a doctor looked at her, Junie?”
“Grandma says doctors cost money we keep in jars that are empty,” she answered honestly.
Colton’s jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone again, dialing a direct line to his chief of corporate philanthropy. “Meredith. I want a permanent medical endowment established at Swedish Medical Center immediately. Fully funded, retroactive for any low-income residents in the 4th Street district. No paperwork for the patients. Zero bureaucracy. Handle it before noon.”
Across the table, Dr. Harrison finished his assessment, packed his stethoscope into its aluminum case, and looked up at Colton with a grave expression that quickly melted into cautious relief.
“It’s not a terminal cardiac failure, Mr. Vale,” Dr. Harrison said, speaking deliberately so Junie could understand. “It’s advanced exhaustion complicated by a severe bronchial infection and chronic malnutrition. Her heart is working twice as hard because her body has nothing left to burn.”
Elena lowered her shawl, breathing with noticeably less effort now that an oxygen cannula was supplying a steady stream of air. She managed a weak, tired smile.
“I told you, Colton… I’m just old. The machinery wears out.”
“The machinery was being starved of basic maintenance,” Colton corrected gently, pulling up a chair and sitting beside her. He took her fragile, paper-thin hand in his large one. “You helped me get into college, Elena. You handed me a future when mine looked like a dead end behind a library dumpster. Did you really think I wouldn’t check the registries after all these years?”
Elena looked down at their joined hands. “You became Colton Vale. The papers write about your shipping fleets and skyscrapers. I didn’t want to bother a billionaire with a leaky roof.”
“A billionaire,” Colton said with a dry, ironic twist of his lips, “is just a man with too many resources and too little time to use them correctly. And as for your roof—my legal team tells me the city has three different municipal liens against this property due to unpaid back taxes.”
Elena’s eyes widened with alarm. “The taxes… I know. I’ve been trying to sell the sewing machine to cover—"
“The taxes were paid in full ten minutes ago by a shell corporation named Cedar Tree Holdings,” Colton interrupted smoothly. “Which, coincidentally, is now wholly owned by Miss Junie Rivera, effective as of a digital signature I just transmitted to the county clerk.”
May you like
Junie’s jaw dropped. “Me? I own a company?”
“You own your house, your tree, and the land beneath it,” Colton confirmed, turning to look at her with a warm, approving smile. “And furthermore, the corporation comes with a perpetual maintenance contract. A crew arrives tomorrow morning to fix the porch, reinforce the roof, and install a modern heating system.”
