by Drea Stein
The alarm on his phone beeped, signaling that the meeting with Petersen was near. Time to get his game face on.
Chapter 3
“What do you mean you’re not going to do anything about it?” Lynn was balanced on the edge of her chair, which took up almost the entire space in front of Sadie Walker’s desk. Lynn had rushed out of the clinic, filled with righteous passion and had then taken a deep breath, thought about her options and decided talking to Sadie first was the best course of action.
“Don’t you think if I could, I would?” There was a weariness in Sadie’s voice that Lynn had heard before but there was also a sharp edge to it, as if she wanted the conversation to be done.
Lynn took a deep breath. She knew that Sadie, as the director of the clinic did her best in a hopeless job. The clinic was essentially non-profit, providing affordable medical care to those who really needed it—and some who didn’t. It was run on a shoestring, a budget that was met by a paltry endowment left over from its original benefactors, constant fundraising efforts, and whatever other money Sadie could scrounge together. It was under the official auspices of the local hospital but was more often than not treated like the forgotten child in the attic. Certainly they devoted little money to it, which Lynn thought was a deliberate move, probably hoping that the clinic would run into a crisis like this so they could swoop in and officially take it over.
But that would mean ousting the current board of directors, a tough crew of old biddies who took their jobs quite seriously, and probably moving the clinic to the hospital itself, which wasn’t as close to the town, or on a bus line, making it difficult for patients to who didn’t drive to get to them. Now, being right here was the best option for the clinic.
When Lynn had accepted the job here, she hadn’t taken it for the money. There would be plenty of time to go out and make that later, and thanks to a small inheritance from her grandmother, who had a passion for buying and holding blue-chip stocks, she’d been able to pay for medical school, with a bit left over. No, the clinic had become her personal raison d’etre and even more so now that she’d been working on her Healthy Kids Now campaign. She just couldn’t watch all of that slip away, not without doing something.
“The Petersen family has been in Queensbay a long time, and the space has been leased to us at below market rates for years. But he has to sell, and the new owner isn’t interested in keeping us on. Apparently, kicking us out is a condition of the deal.”
“But without the clinic, all these patients will have over an hour’s ride to the next one. Or they’ll have to go the emergency room at the hospital—and that’s unnecessary and expensive.”
“I know, Lynn, you’re right. But unless you can come up with some alternative plan, then I really don’t see what we can do. It’s been a good fight, but it’s been a battle, almost each and every day. I know how committed you are, but you don’t have any idea of the day-to-day realities of running an operation like this. Look, don’t worry, about your residency. I know the hospital will find a way for you to finish it out.”
Sadie didn’t say anything about the job Lynn had accepted at the clinic once her residency was done. That, Lynn knew, was surely in doubt. Right now, though, that was the least of her concerns. It was the clinic itself she was determined to save.
Sadie was a rumpled-looking middle-aged woman with frizzy hair that had once been red, but now, thanks to out-of-the-box hair dye, was closer to orange. She wore glasses that were attached to her by a long chain strung with beads. Her clothing style could only be described as eclectic, usually leggings, chunky heeled boots, with drapey tops thrown over that camouflaged her true shape.
Sadie’s heart was in the right place, Lynn knew, but with her trained eye she could see the Sadie was tired. Dark circles pouched under her eyes, and she had put on her eyeliner crooked. Her hands moved restlessly, squeezing and releasing a rubber band ball as if that would help mitigate the stress.
“Lynn, I’ve worked here for fifteen years, and trust me, if there was a way to change this decision I would find it.”
“But hasn’t Mr. Petersen threatened to close us down in the past?”
“About every six months, but he can never get a new tenant in.” Sadie shrugged her shoulders.
“That’s because this place is a dump,” Lynn said. As if to punctuate the observation there was the sound of a slamming door somewhere out in the hallway, and the building shook from the reverberation while a small piece of plaster, dislodged from the flaky ceiling, tumbled down, leaving a vapor trail of dust.
The carpet was an indeterminate mix of gray and beige, with suspicious stains dotting across it like polka dots. The walls in the office were a dirty white, scuffed and grimed by handprints and other bodily fluids. Sadie’s door sat unsteadily on its hinges and the framed prints of garden scenes, set in cheap frames, did nothing to alleviate the gloom.
“Well, apparently this time, he’s selling the place and the new owner has the money to fix it up.”
“Why wouldn’t Petersen do that himself?” Lynn asked. She wasn’t an experienced real estate investor, but it seemed that if the building had belonged to the Petersen family for decades, it was probably already paid for and keeping it as a rental property was a better way of managing the investment.
Sadie shrugged, looked around and said, “Word is Petersen is about to go through a very nasty divorce and he’s going to need the money.”
“Why?” She’d met Duane Petersen once and he was middle-aged with thinning hair, the beginnings of a belly and a droopy air. His wife, on the other hand, was aerobics class-thin, pretty in that way, and had a highhanded way about her.
“Supposedly,” Sadie dropped her voice as if about to impart a state secret, and Lynn wondered if Lori or Sue had been her source, “Duane’s mixing it up with his secretary and he wants to get all the liquid cash he can stashed away before Mrs. Petersen comes after it.”
“Oh.” Lynn sank back in her chair, suddenly feeling overcome. It did not sound like a promising situation. “And it’s the new owner who wants to put in the spa client?”
Sadie nodded as she too slumped back into her chair, the air of defeat clearly visible around her.
“That’s the story.”
“And you’re sure it’s true?” Lynn asked.
Sadie laughed, but without any humor. “Of course not. That information about Petersen and his secretary came straight from the two little birdies at the front desk, if you know what I mean.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean a thing then.” Lynn straightened up, rallying.
“Since Petersen sent a letter effectively terminating the lease, I would say it does.”
“Doesn’t he have to give us any warning?”
Sadie shook her head. “When Petersen stopped making repairs about two years ago, I refused to sign a long-term lease, instead going month to month. I even made like I was visiting other spaces, to see if I could bluff him into thinking we were leaving.”
“And did you find any place?” Lynn asked hopefully. It would be a pain to move the clinic, but she considered that a minor obstacle that could be overcome with a couple of strong backs, boxes, and lots of packing tapes.
Sadie sighed, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Not for what we’re willing to pay. But I think the hospital might be willing to give us some space, incorporate us into their facility.”
“But they’re not on the bus line and are thirty minutes away, at least. It’s going to be hard for a lot of regulars to make it there.”
“I know, I know. But like I said, it might be our only option.”
Lynn nodded. At least Sadie had tried, she thought, glancing around. The problem was that even though the building wasn’t on the water, it wasn’t far from the center of town. You could still walk into the restaurants and pubs, and it might make a nice location for apartments or even a small office building. Or a fancy medical spa, Lynn supposed.
Lynn wasn’t quite sure
what to say next, only knowing that she wasn’t quite ready to sink into the gloom along with Sadie. It just wasn’t in her nature. There had to be a way. She loved working at the clinic, much more so than if she had been in a private practice. The patients here were grateful, relieved to know for the most part, that their problems were fixable, whether it was with a prescription, a bandage, or even some common sense. Of course, it didn’t always work out that way, but that was the nature of medicine. Lynn wasn’t a god. She was a human with a vast amount of knowledge and skills—growing every day—that she could apply to solve many problems. But not all of them.
This, however, wasn’t one of those medical cases where the odds were not good. This was a real world, human being, financial, fixable problem.
There was a commotion and then the receptionist was yelling, “Doctor! We need a doctor…!” There was a scrum of voices and she heard a child crying, then the soothing voice of someone saying, “It will be ok, it’s ok…”
Lynn launched herself out of her chair, adrenaline pumping. It might just be a kid with a sore throat, or a broken arm, but still she was a doctor and this was her job. Petersen would just have to wait a bit longer.
Chapter 4
Jackson looked at his watch and stopped pacing, and took a seat. He had made it to Petersen’s real estate management company with plenty of time to spare for his four o’clock meeting. All the paperwork was in his attaché case, the terms reviewed and reworked meticulously. Petersen thought he was going to pull one over on him, but Jackson’s intel was solid. Petersen was in the midst of a sticky situation between the current Mrs. Petersen and a future one, and he needed cash.
That Petersen needed some was evident in the shabby appearance of the waiting room. It might have been nice once, but the carpet was an indistinct gray, highlighted here and there by a darker patch, obviously some sort of stain. The wall had been papered in a pale cream, but there were scuff marks where chairs had rested against them, and the edges were starting to peel. A water stain decorated the corner of the ceiling and the furniture was vinyl and plastic and patched with pieces of plastic tape.
Yup, Petersen needed some cash—which Jackson happened to have, and plenty of it. Unlike many other buyers, he could offer an all-cash deal, without any bank financing needed. The deal could close within a few days and Petersen could do hell all with the money.
Petersen was late and it was irritating Jackson. Actually, it was infuriating him, but he told himself he was merely annoyed, because once you let emotions get hold of you during a business negotiation, you were done for. Besides, he knew he wanted this piece of property a little too badly. In fact, Petersen had offered him the pick of his portfolio, but Jackson had narrowed in on this one. Not for sentimental reasons, but he was pretty sure that since Petersen hadn’t wanted to part with it, it was the best one to have.
There was a banging on the door and he saw the blur of a face pressed against the glass doors and the sight of long, dark curly hair. The door swung open and Jackson watched as a slim brunette walked over to the girl at the desk and asked to see Mr. Petersen. Her voice was clear, crisp, and authoritative.
Annabel, who had said she was the ‘fill-in’ receptionist, gave the same weary, disinterested reply that she had given Jackson, that Petersen was out and she didn’t know when he’d be back.
The girl huffed and stamped her foot. She looked around and he saw she was attractive, pretty even, except that her face was twisted up in a frown and her brown eyes snapped with irritation and annoyance. Jackson smothered a smile. Apparently, Petersen being out was really cooking her goose too and she wasn’t afraid to show it. She was older than he had first thought, late twenties, but with a youthful, energetic look to her.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail leaving a curly mass that swayed down her back and few stray tendrils had escaped, framing her face. She crossed her arms, chewed her lip, and tapped her foot. Expensive sneakers were on her feet, a riot of neon colors. She wore no makeup but she didn’t need it. Liquid brown eyes were snapping with impatience.
And, Jackson thought, swallowing, there was something that looked suspiciously like blood splotched across the right side of her light blue scrubs.
“You’re not Petersen, are you?” She had all but thrown herself into the worn plastic and metal chair next to him, since in the small waiting room, there weren’t many options.
“No, I’m waiting for him too,” Jackson said as he shifted slightly in his chair, feeling as if he needed to put some space between him and this bundle of energy. The woman gave him a quick once over and he braced himself.
“Do I know you? You look kind of familiar, you know?” Her eyes squinted as she took a long, careful look at him. He dreaded what she was going to say next, but then she snapped her fingers in triumph.
“I know you. You’re Chase’s brother, aren’t you?” Her voice was firm and she spoke with a slightly flat accent, almost as if she were from the mid-west.
Jackson straightened, relieved and annoyed at the same time. He loved his brother, but it was tiresome to always be known because of that.
“Jax, right? The one who roams all over the place and barely comes home?”
“Jackson,” he corrected her. Her mouth twitched up at the formality, and he wondered if she was laughing at him.
“I’m Lynn. Phoebe’s friend?”
He gave a nod, his mind still working. Phoebe was his brother’s new fiancée. He had met her exactly once on a quick London layover. She had seemed lovely, the perfect fit for his brother, but they hadn’t had time to chat much before everyone had gone their separate ways.
“Of course,” Jackson said, hoping that was vague enough. He was surprised. Phoebe was a California golden girl and he had trouble seeing what his elegant, fabric-designing future sister in law would have in common with this bundle of scrubs and stains.
“We used to live next to each other,” Lynn offered. “I mean Phoebe and I. Before I moved to my own place. She still lives next to my parents.”
Jackson gave another quick smile and then hoped that Lynn would be quiet. And still. Her fingers were tapping a beat on the arm of her chair and her leg; one sneakered foot crossed over the other was bouncing up and down.
He shifted in his chair again, wondering if he could ask her to stop moving. He was trying to rehearse the strategy he was going to use with Petersen one more time and she was definitely a distraction.
“Do you know when Petersen will be back?” Lynn twisted in the small chair and fixed him with chocolate brown eyes.
It took a moment to gather his thoughts before he could respond. Her eyes seemed to draw him in and he noticed that there was the slightest smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“I had an appointment scheduled to start twenty minutes ago,” Jackson found himself saying, though he didn’t know why. Any longer, and he would have to get up and go, force Petersen to call him. Waiting on the other man would leave him in a position of weakness. Right now, for some reason, he couldn’t quite force himself to get out of the chair.
“Oh, I only need a moment of his time,” Lynn said and there was a grimness in her tone.
“Then I am sure you won’t mind waiting.”
“Hmm,” she said and fell silent, but only for a moment until both hands started to tap a steady tattoo on the side of the chair.
Jackson picked up one of the magazines. It was something glossy about people he didn’t recognize and didn’t care about, and he flipped through the pages mindlessly, trying to distract himself from the ball of nervous energy on his right.
“Do you mind?” he finally said.
“Do I mind? What?”
He gestured toward her tapping fingers.
“Oh, sorry,” she said and her hands stilled. But it seemed that only made her brain more active, because she said, “Do you know what I do mind? I mind that when a little kid falls out of a tree and breaks his arm because the babysitter was texting on
her phone. She doesn’t hear the kid screaming for an hour, and then waits even longer to bring him in. And that’s not to mention the bloody nose. That thing was a bleeder…Was too afraid to go to the ER at the hospital, and besides it was too far; she doesn’t drive, they had to take the bus. What are people like that going to do when the clinic gets closed down…?”
She kept going, cataloging a list of injuries and other disasters. She hadn’t drawn a breath once, Jackson thought, fascinated, watching her lips move. He had long since stopped listening to the actual words, too enthralled by her passion to pay attention to the subject of her tirade.
The glass door opened and looking like he had all the time in the world, in strolled Duane Petersen. He stopped short when he saw Jackson, who rose as the older man entered. Beside him, Lynn had fallen silent, but he could feel her vibrating with energy and intent next to him.
Chapter 5
Finally. Lynn thought, her mouth shutting and her eyes narrowing. She could barely remember why she had been wound up, but Jax, no Jackson, he wanted to be called, hadn’t said one word, had just watched her with his icy blue eyes, his face impenetrable. Not once had he agreed with her, or shown any sign about what he thought of the injustice. Perhaps he thought cracking a smile would ruin the perfection of the blond hair, straight nose, and strong jaw.
Get a grip, she thought. She shouldn’t be thinking about his beautiful white teeth, or his strong jaw, or his nicely sculpted cheekbones. It was only because it had been, what, like forever, since she had a date. Or even given a thought to a guy. Probably because she rarely came into contact with them. Nope, specializing in pediatrics meant she met a lot of cute kids and their moms. Just because she was in the middle of a dry spell, didn’t mean she needed to lose her focus just because of a pretty face. It was Petersen she was here to deal with, and he had just walked in. And luckily his appearance didn’t set her pulse racing.