Wash

by Lexy Timms

  Charity laughed. “My mother must have planned it all while I was in her tummy.” She tucked a chunk of her long blond hair behind her ear. It had been six years since her mother had lost her battle against cancer, which had completely changed Charity’s career course. The day after the funeral, she had dropped out of medical school and hadn’t looked back since. She couldn’t say the same about her father. She forced a grin and focused on the moment. “It’s even more ironic now that I’m signing a two-year contract with you guys. How shall we put the press release? Forever Hope Hospital hires Charity Thompson as their new Fundraiser Liaison. Kind of a tongue twister, eh, Dr. Parker?”

  “Just Malcolm, please. We’re working together now. It’s in the two-year contract you just signed. It says you are to refer to Dr. Parker as Malcolm only.” He held it up, teasing her.

  Dr. Parker—er, Malcolm—couldn’t be much older than Charity, maybe five years tops. Cropped hair and chiselled features probably made him popular talk amongst the staff and patients. She knew he was single, recently divorced, with no children. She wondered how long it would take a first year or nurse to ‘make the rounds’ with him. Or maybe he would surprise her and actually be a decent guy.

  “As for the press release, I can’t wait to see everyone and anyone’s reaction. It’s going to be a big success. Between the humor in your name and job, your awesome track record for success…” He pointed and in a very kind voice added, “Your beautiful face, plus the fact that your father is the Doctor Thompson, I’m not sure we should send the press release to the local papers or to the American Journal of Medicine.” He stood and reached out his hand. “I’m teasing again, of course. We’re all very excited to have you on board.”

  Charity stood and shook his hand, making sure to add just the right about of firmness to show her strength and still remain feminine. “I’m excited to get started.”

  “This hospital needs your help. We’re in dire straights. Between the state cutbacks, the simple lack of funds, our long term care ward, and our outpatient surgery floor is anciently outdated, we either need to update or close down. People are starting to skip past us and are driving the extra forty-five minutes to Atlanta General.” He shook his head. “You already know this, sorry. I just hear it everyday, a million times a day.”

  Charity sat back down and pulled her iPad out of her briefcase. “Then we need to get started right away.” She flipped to the screen she’d written the list of things she needed from the hospital. “I’m going to need the hospital’s financial records, and a calendar of events you already have set up. I’d like to plan a charity luncheon in about six weeks to get the ball rolling. Remember, this isn’t going to be fixed overnight. It’s a process and two years is the goal. We’ll get there.”

  Vibration from the doctor’s cell phone on his desk made her pause. They both looked at the phone and then at each other.

  “Continue, please.” He glanced at the phone and then back at her.

  “You’re busy. You need to take care of hospital issues. Why don’t I talk to your assistant and check your calendar? We need to pick a day in five or six weeks that you can take a long lunch break.” She thought back to his comment about her having a pretty face. “We need to use those good looks of yours and get some lovely high society ladies wanting to spend money on the hospital with the hot doc.”

  He blinked, surprise clear on his face. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or pleased. Hot doc?”

  She laughed. “Sometimes pretty works and you have to use it.” She stood and slipped her briefcase strap over her shoulder. “Sorry, doc, but you’re single, good-looking, and funny. I’m going to have to use you as a marketing tool to get a few charities going.” She held up her hand. “I promise no cheesy date auctions or prostitution. Just need to use your… your atmosphere to see how awesome the staff and hospital really is.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes. I love this place and want everyone else to love it as well.”

  They were going to work together just fine. “You need to go be a doctor and I need to set up my office.”

  The doctor slapped his forehead. “I almost forgot! Your new office is to the right of the elevator. I’ve had it cleared and your name’s supposed to be up on the glass by the end of the day. I’ll get my assistant to show you where and she’ll also bring any information you need.” He pressed the red button on the intercom phone on his desk. “Amanda, do you mind helping Ms. Thompson?”

  A millisecond later, the office door opened and in rushed a tiny, petite lady. Her silver hair in a messy bun held a pair of reading classes stuck on the top of her head. “Doctor Parker, Doctor Mallone is trying to get a hold of you. He needs you in emerg right away.” She turned, almost floating like a little fairy. “Ms. Thompson, let’s go.” She disappeared out the door, her little shoes tapping down the hall.

  It felt like being in third grade all over again. Charity raised her eyebrows but wasn’t about to disobey Amanda. As she took a step toward the door, a smooth hand touched her elbow.

  “She’s harmless,” Malcolm whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear, “but I’ve never crossed her.” He chuckled as he let go of her. “Good luck.”

  Charity mouthed a sarcastic Thank-you and hurried out the door. She could feel Malcolm’s breath cooling on her skin as her long strides slowly caught up to Amanda.

  “I had a two-sided desk set up in your office. I also had them set up a bookcase, but didn’t know what else you would need.” Amanda’s words punched out with each tap of her shoes. She stopped in front of a frosted glass door and pulled a key out of her pocket. “This is yours.” She handed to key to Charity. “I’m glad you’ve come. Welcome to Forever Hope. Just let me know if you need anything else.” She stood waiting.

  “Thanks.” Charity realized the woman wanted her to open the door so she hurriedly put the key into the lock and turned it. She pushed the door open and grinned when she stepped inside.

  “Will it work?” Amanda asked.

  The office was actually two rooms, kind of like a waiting room and then an archway that showed a glimpse of a large, light wood stained two-sided desk. The walls were completely bare except for a fresh coat of pale yellow paint. Bright without feeling like a hospital. It gave her an idea. “It’s going to be perfect!”

  “Lovely. I’m down the hall if you need me.” Amanda disappeared out the door.

  Charity set her briefcase against the wall by the door and pressed her lips together. She’d done six large-figure multi-million dollar fundraisers but never had an office like this. Two rooms!

  Racing through the brightly painted white arch, she surveyed the second room. It was a bit smaller than the first room, but both had large window panels to look over the city. Day or night, the view was probably amazing. The two-sided desk had a brand new computer still in its box sitting on the far side, along with a phone already set up. The leather chair behind seemed to beg her to try it out. Well, she couldn’t disappoint it.

  The soft leather felt perfect under her. She tested out the wheels and tried sliding from one side of the desk to the other. No problem. She slipped her heels off and felt the wood floor against her bare feet. It made her want to dance. Focus, Charity.

  She pushed her chair away from the desk and went back to the first room to look around. The bright, empty room would make a perfect conference room. Give it a laid back, homey atmosphere and possibly donors would relax the minute they stepped in. She pulled her Blackberry out of the short-sleeved red jacket that went with her black dress.

  Maybe a loveseat, definitely a round table, four comfortable chairs, two ottomans, plant, fridge, cabinet to hold glasses, wine rack.

  She glanced around. There were three walls to work with since she didn’t want to put anything but a low table near the windows. If she painted the one wall with chalk paint, that would be a perfect note-board and would also work as a projector screen for presentations.

  A buzzing in her hand caught h
er attention. She had a call. Quickly saving the shopping list, she then switched screens to check the caller ID. She almost dropped the phone when she saw the number.

  Chapter 2

  “Dad!” Her father never rang unless there was an emergency. “Is everything all right?”

  “Hullo?” The voice that answered wasn’t her father’s. It was husky, with a clear accent.

  It took her by surprise and sent a shiver down her spine at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, is this Charity?”

  She scratched her head, trying to recognize the caller. Australian accent? Or New Zealand? “Where’s my father?”

  “I’m not too sure, actually.” The stranger chuckled. “I was just in a meeting with him an’ he said he needed to call you. Suddenly he tosses me the phone and rushes off to some code three over the intercom.” A slight grating noise echoed through the phone like the stranger was rubbing a five o’clock shadow. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what he wanted to tell you.”

  “That’s okay. He does have a habit of rushing off to save the day. Who is this, by the way?”

  “I’m Elijah.”

  “Hi Elijah, I’m Charity.” She shook her head. Was she honestly flirting with some stranger over the phone? Her father’s phone on top of it. She really needed to get out more.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He chuckled. “Well, over the phone anyway.”

  She smiled. “Not to make you the messenger, but you can let my dad know I’ve arrived and he can call me when he has a free moment.”

  “Arrived?”

  She absently waved her hand in the air and walked around the room surveying what she needed to do first. Hardware store, the furniture store. “I just started a new contract down here in Atlanta.”

  “A little warmer than New York at the moment.”

  “Definitely.”

  Muffled voices carried over the phone. “I apologize again,” Elijah said, “but Dr. Thompson needs me.”

  “No problem. Have a great afternoon.”

  “You too.”

  Charity slipped her phone into her jacket pocket and grabbed her briefcase. She wondered what Elijah looked like. That sexy accent surely belonged to a good looking guy. She rolled her eyes. The guy was over a thousand miles away and she had a new job with a lot of work to do.

  Speaking of work. She needed to get a list of past donators, skim through the local papers to find the elite social class. The first group would be women. Doctors’ wives and local celebrities. She already had connections to a couple of popular bands that would do charity concerts for her. It was simply a matter of getting dates and plans to coincide.

  She headed out of the office and back down the hall to Amanda’s office.

  Amanda sat behind her computer, reading glasses on the bridge of her nose. She smiled at Charity. “What do you need, sweetie?”

  Charity dropped into the chair in front of Amanda’s desk. “I need lists. People who have donated to the hospital, anyone big named or wealthy who have been here. Even those who wished to remain discreet. I’ll contact them on the down-low but I need names.” She went through her mental list of things she wouldn’t have access to find. “Has the board made blueprints or hired architecture to design the new wing Malcolm wants to add?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I don’t believe they have.” Her hand slid her computer mouse around and she clicked it a bunch of times. Pages started printing out of the massive computer behind her. “Dr. Parker started collecting data when he was pretty sure you would agree to help us out.”

  The printer continued printing out page after page after page. That was a good sign. More meant a lot of options and possibilities. “Has Malc—Dr. Parker or any other doctor worked on athletes as well? Anyone from the Braves, or Hawks or the Falcons?”

  “I’m sure there are quite a few.”

  “Does every doctor have a seat on the board?”

  Amanda shook her head. “I don’t believe so.”

  Her father was a stickler for every person having their say. He was adamant about all doctors meeting at least twice a year to discuss hospital issues. His hospital would be a success and never be in need of someone like her. It made her very proud of him.

  “We’ll need to set up a meeting with everyone.” She ignored the slightly annoyed look on Amanda’s face. Charity had two years to turn this place into a success story and she needed everyone willing to work with her. She knew what needed to be done and it was never easy at first, but that would change. “How about you send me everyone’s email address?”

  “You can’t get everyone to meet at the same time. The hospital would have to close for the day.”

  Charity smiled. She knew better than to argue. “You’re right. I’ll have to come up with something that works for everyone.” She stood and checked her watch. “I’ve got errands to run for my office that I want to do tomorrow, and my stuff is supposed to be delivered to my apartment sometime after five today. Gotta jet.”

  Amanda scooted her chair back and grabbed the massive stack of printed paper. “Do you want me to bind these for you?”

  “That would be awesome. I’ll start going through them tomorrow then.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.”

  “And Charity?” Amanda set her glasses on the top of her head.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad you here.”

  Amanda was full of surprises. Charity grinned. “Me, too.”

  Chapter 3

  Trying to balance her groceries and case of water in one hand, Charity slipped the key into her apartment door with the other. She had met the moving company earlier. It hadn’t taken long to unpack, and all that was left were five clothing suitcases in her bedroom. She then ran out to grab food for dinner and breakfast in the morning.

  She kicked the door shut with her foot and glanced around. It was a studio apartment with a double sized living room, which opened to a modern kitchen. Light grey stained wood covered the floors and the two rooms were painted a soft white.

  Very bright. And very empty.

  That had been done on purpose. A leather antique psychologist couch was set against the far wall, mirrors covered another wall, and a high tech stereo system took up most of the space on the last wall. The only remaining wall had windows and a door to a simple balcony.

  Charity slipped off her shoes and padded on bare feet to the kitchen. She set the case of water down on the breakfast bar and quickly put away the groceries. Before putting the water under the table, she grabbed the remote beside the case and turned the stereo on. The tall speakers came to life and Charity reached for a bottle from the case. As she strolled to her bedroom, her fingers tapped the music’s beat against the plastic water container. By the time she reached her room, she was full-out dancing.

  She changed into tights and a sport top, then headed back to the living room. She had been dancing since she was six. Her mom had encouraged her to try every form of dance and she loved them all. Somehow, all the different types of dancing had rolled into her own artistic interpretation and she was phenomenal at it, but very few people knew. It came in handy during the galas and dinners if someone asked her to dance and she could surprise guests.

  Dancing was her workout, her stress reducer, her fun time and her down time.

  An hour and a shower later, she started cooking dinner. Munching on a carrot, the little red light flashing on the phone caught her attention. She flipped her screen on and saw several emails from Amanda with attachments, an email confirming the paint and furniture for her office would be delivered in the morning, and her father had called about ten minutes prior.

  He hadn’t left a message so she pressed the button to call him, putting him on speaker so she could continue cutting vegetables.

  “Dr. Thompson.”

  “Dad, it’s me.” Charity tried not to roll her eyes. He had caller ID so he knew it was her.

 
“Charity. How can I help you?”

  She shook her head. “You phoned me earlier and tried again a bit ago. I was in the shower and just saw the missed call. I assume you wanted to talk to me.” No ‘how are you doing?’ or ‘how’s Atlanta?’.

  “Oh yes. I did. I was going to have my secretary call but I knew you’d say no if she asked.”

  Charity set the knife down. She didn’t want to stab her phone. “Nice, Dad. I really appreciate you starting a phone conversation on the negative. Why don’t you just ask me what you need and I’ll let you know what I think?”

  “Fine. I’m turning sixty-five next year.” He paused.

  “I know.” A strange thought crossed her mind. She never assumed he would, but what if… “Are you retiring?”

  “Hell no! I’m more than competent as a doctor, probably still better than most of the doctors I know.”

  No lie there. He was one of the best doctors in the country, even had a hospital named after him. “I didn’t think you would, but why the phone call just over six months before your birthday?”

  “The hospital wants to make a big deal with it. I guess they need to. I said I would take care of it since I don’t want it to be about me. I want the focus on something else.”

  She had no idea where he was going with this.

  “I was wondering…” He swallowed and a quick sigh echoed through the phone. “We’d like to hire you to do the party.”

  She blinked in surprise. He hated her job and always made sure she knew how disappointed he was that she’d dropped out of med school. “I’m not a party planner.”

  “You don’t organize parties and plan big events?”

  Good point. “I do but they are for hospitals wings, additions, equipment. The galas are to raise money for non-profit issues hospitals need.” Not some retirement party where the birthday dude wasn’t even retiring.

  “Exactly. That’s what I—what we want to hire your for. To make money for some new equipment at the hospital. My milestone age marker is just the excuse to do it.”