The Girl Who Doesn't Quit (Soulless Book 12)

by Victoria Quinn

  The Girl Who Doesn’t Quit

  Soulless #12

  Victoria Quinn

  Hartwick Publishing

  Hartwick Publishing

  The Girl Who Doesn’t Quit

  Copyright © 2021 by Victoria Quinn

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  1

  Daisy

  Shelly sat across from my desk, her legs crossed with her folder open in her lap. My office showed my degrees on the wall, pictures of my family at the lake house. The picture frames of my nieces and nephews were at the edge of the desk, my pride and joy. “I’ve stared at these numbers a million times. I don’t see anything, but I feel like the answer is right in front of me.” She closed the folder and tossed it on the desk.

  “I know, right?” I pushed the wrapper farther down my granola bar and took another bite because I’d skipped lunch—like always. “Sometimes, I need to sleep on it. Taking a break gives me the perspective to see something I couldn’t see before.”

  “Definitely.” She straightened in her chair and pulled back the sleeve to her jacket, checking the time. “Tom was supposed to get the kids home and put dinner on the table, but he hasn’t texted me, so he probably took them out for ice cream.”

  I chuckled. “He’s a good dad.”

  “But not a good husband.” Blond and middle-aged, she’d been my colleague since I started at the clinic. She took time to run every morning, so she always fit into her skirts well and showed off those calves. “Just have to get through this meeting…”

  “You think he’s officially announcing his retirement?” I took another bite of my granola bar, relaxed back into the chair, and put my feet on the desk.

  She shrugged. “Could be. About time…he’s only eighty.”

  I chuckled and kept chewing. “I wonder who he’ll pick to take over.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You.”

  I rolled my eyes back. “Stop it.”

  “I’m serious. You practically live in this office, and you’re probably the smartest one here.”

  “I agree with the first statement, but not the second. We’re a team.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want the job?”

  “Oh no, I want it,” I said immediately.

  She chuckled.

  “I really, really want it. But I wouldn’t be upset if he picked someone else because everyone here is great.”

  She propped her chin on her closed knuckles. “You might feel differently about that when you have a family. Any free time I have, I want it to be spent taking a nap or cleaning up the house, and if not those things, then spending time with them.”

  “Both of my parents have always been really dedicated to their jobs, and they somehow made it work. If I get the gig, I’ll make it work.”

  “Then, no sleep it is.”

  I chuckled and finished the granola bar and clenched the wrapper in my fingers.

  Anthony came to my open door and tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “Meeting is getting started.”

  “Is there food?” I blurted.

  He gave me an affectionate look. “Sandwiches and cookies.”

  I pumped both of my arms into the air. “Yaaassss!”

  Shelly rose to her feet. “You just ate a granola bar.”

  “That was an appetizer.” I came around the desk and walked out with them to the meeting room. “Time for the main course—cookies.”

  Dylan had slowed down considerably in the last year. He got through his seventies like a man in his fifties, but once he reached eighty, he just didn’t move the same way he did before. Running the office became more challenging, and he started to forget things.

  The meeting began with a rundown of all the patients we had, what progress we made with each one, what results we were waiting for. We had only a few patients at any given time because we dedicated so many resources to each one. These were patients who had already gone to Stanford and Johns Hopkins, having illnesses that remained undiagnosed and unexplained. We were the last stop on the road—and if we couldn’t figure it out, nobody could.

  There were a few extra sandwiches on the table, so I snagged another and took a bite.

  Shelly eyed me, amused.

  I kept chewing and gave a shrug.

  I was the youngest physician in the office, and my colleagues had taken me under their wings like I was a child they never had. They found my weirdness endearing—thankfully.

  Dylan cleared his throat, standing with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “So, this has been a long time coming and you’ve been nice enough not to bring it to my attention, but it’s time for me to move on. Marge and I will be leaving Manhattan and retiring in the Hamptons, surrounded by our kids and grandkids, and I just had a great-grandchild…believe it or not.”

  This was it.

  Every member of my family was ambitious, and they reached the tops of their careers at young ages. If I became the director of the clinic, my parents would be so proud—especially my dad. I was young and had a long career ahead of me, and I wanted to spend that time making a difference in this world, helping people who had run out of options. The biggest problem in the health care system was false diagnoses. Not all patients fit into the cookie-cutter charts that doctors created. They were all unique—and they needed unique care. I believed I could give that to them.

  Dylan continued on. “This is my final week. I’ll be getting my things in order and clearing out my office. It’ll be hard to leave because I’ve dedicated so many decades to this clinic, and a piece of my heart will always be here. I’m proud of everything we’ve done—everything you’ve done. You’re all very special to me.”

  “We’re going to miss you, Dylan,” Anthony said. “Won’t be the same without you.”

  “It won’t,” Shelly said in agreement. “But we’re excited for you. This next chapter in your life will be wonderful.”

  “You can always stop by while you’re in the city,” I said. “We’d be happy to see you.”

  Dylan nodded. “Thank you. And I know you’ll be in good hands with my replacement. He’s the smartest man I’ve ever met.”

  Anthony. A twinge of disappointment hit me, but then it disappeared just as quickly. The selection was well-deserved because he was a brilliant diagnostician who truly cared about his patients.

  I looked at Anthony, and we shared a smile.

  Dylan continued. “You’ll meet him next week.”

  My head snapped back in Dylan’s direction when I heard what he said. Whoa, what?

  Meet him next week?

  As in, he’s not in this office right now?

  What the cock-balls is this shit?

  My colleagues looked just as bewildered, exchanging subtle looks of confusion with one another.

  “He’s quite the young man,” Dylan said. “Brilliant. Innovative. Successful. He wears quite a few different hats, so he has a broad understanding of medicine, from patient care to research and development, education…the list goes on and on. I think you’re all going to really like him.”

  Yeah…I don’t think so.

  Dylan lifted his sleeve and looked at the time. “It’s getting late, and I know you guys have lives to live. See you tomorrow.”

  “Mom, I’m pissed.” I stormed into the Trinity Building, the place where I grew up, and marched to her desk. “I’m fucking pissed, and I need to talk some shit right now. Otherwise, my head i
s going to explode.”

  She sat behind her desk, her reading glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. “Oh no. What happened?”

  “Girl, I’ll tell you what happened.” I pulled out one of the chairs to her desk and plopped down. “So, Dylan picked a replacement. Spoiler alert—it’s not me.”

  She took off her glasses and swiveled in her chair, empathy shining in her eyes because she was always on my side for any story I told. “I’m sorry to hear that, honey. It’s hard to watch someone take a position you believe you deserve, but you need to be supportive of your colleague who deserved it as much as you.”

  I burst into maniacal laughter—because she was so far off course.

  Her eyebrow rose, watching me laugh at her desk.

  “Oh, Mom…you’re cute.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “That’s not what happened. One of my colleagues didn’t get promoted.”

  Now, she looked utterly bewildered. “Then who did Dylan hire?”

  I raised my arms in the air in an exaggerated pose. “No idea. Total stranger. Some guy off the street.”

  “It was an outside hire.”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh…” She inhaled a slow breath, studying me like she didn’t know what to say.

  “We all bust our asses day in and day out, get there early, stay late, work on the weekends, but yeah…let’s hire someone who hasn’t worked there a day in his life. It’s fucking bullshit. He said he was the smartest man he’d ever met while Anthony was sitting right there. Insulting. Is Dylan senile now?” I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my legs, so furious that I couldn’t contain it.

  “I don’t know what to say…”

  “You don’t have to say anything, Mom. I’m not looking for solutions—just some good ol’-fashioned shit-talking.”

  “Well, you know I’m your girl.”

  “Yep. My ride-or-die bitch.”

  She chuckled and grabbed her purse. “You want to go out for a drink?”

  I snapped my fingers and pointed at her. “See? That’s why you’re my ride-or-die bitch.”

  We left the office and walked through the building to the front doors.

  Dad walked in at that moment, in his typical hoodie and jeans, his computer bag over his shoulder. The first person he looked at was Mom—like he hadn’t seen her for days rather than hours. Then his eyes shifted to me, joy entering his gaze instantly. “Hey, sweetheart. Where are you guys off to?”

  “Mom is taking me out for drinks because I’m pissed with a capital P.”

  Dad turned back to Mom, quizzical.

  “It’s a long story.” She grabbed his arm and leaned in to give him a quick kiss.

  “It’s actually not that long,” I said. “My boss decided to use an outside hire to replace him. Boom, done.” I stormed out the revolving doors and onto the sidewalk.

  It took a moment for my mom to join me, probably because Dad had a couple questions. He always had questions. “Alright, where should we go?”

  “I’m thinking dive bar, tequila shots, the whole nine yards.”

  She chuckled as she walked beside me, rocking her heels and little skirt like she was still in her twenties. “I’m too old to keep up with you, but I’ll try.”

  “That’s the spirit, Mama.”

  2

  Daisy

  Every morning passed at the speed of light because we had so much to do. We ordered labs and tests on our patients, but we spent the bulk of our time thinking, mapping out connections and possibilities. Each one of us believed there was an answer to every problem—we just had to find it.

  There was definitely a drop in morale in the room, left unspoken.

  I was starving at lunchtime and a granola bar wouldn’t hold me over, so Shelly and I walked down the street and grabbed sandwiches at the deli.

  I stood at the edge of the counter and waited for the food to be ready, in heels and a pencil skirt, my long hair in a slick ponytail. “So…that was a kick to the balls, wasn’t it?”

  Shelly gave a strained smirk. “With a steel-toe boot.”

  “I thought he was talking about Anthony. And based on Anthony’s expression, he thought the same thing.”

  “Outside hire? How does that make sense? We have such a rigorous hiring process. The director should come from within the organization—not outside of it.”

  “Girl, I’m with you.” The food was placed on the counter in a paper bag, so I grabbed it and we were on our way.

  “I thought it was going to be you too.”

  I shrugged as we headed back to the office. “I assumed it would be one of us—dead wrong.”

  “That was so fucked up of Dylan.”

  “I made my mom join me at a dive bar so I could discuss that very topic.”

  She eyed me. “You look pretty good for a night at a dive bar.”

  “I absorb my liquor well. Think it’s my fountain of youth.”

  She chuckled then we entered the clinic once again, heading to my office so we could eat together.

  As I sat behind my desk, I saw Dylan pass through the glass doors and head to his office.

  Shelly watched my eyes move, holding her sandwich in her hands. “Don’t do it.”

  “Why not? He’s leaving anyway.”

  “But he hasn’t left yet—and he could still fire you.”

  “Bitch can’t fire me.” I threw my sandwich down and moved to the door. “Like to see him try.”

  “Daisy—”

  The door shut behind me, and I entered through his open door. He was behind his desk, boxes already on the floor and the corner of his desk. I tapped my knuckles on the wall to announce my presence. “Got a sec?”

  He lifted his chin and gave me an affectionate look. “Come on in, Daisy. Just getting my things together…”

  I helped myself to one of the brown leather armchairs facing his desk, crossing my ankles and sitting with a strong posture. The walk from my office to his was spent in a rage, but I forced it to quiet because that was no way to handle the situation. Instead of getting fired, I would be escorted out by security. “Has it hit you yet?”

  “It hit me when I bought these boxes at Staples.” He set his pile of papers down and looked at me over the wooden desk, his hair white as snow, his complexion dull with age, wrinkles, and bruised marks over his thin skin.

  “I bet Marge is happy to have you home all the time.”

  He gave a slight chuckle. “She’s already sick of me, and I haven’t even retired yet. So, what can I do for you?”

  “Well…I wanted to talk to you about the new director you hired.”

  “Yes? What about him?”

  “Exactly. What about him?”

  Dylan’s confidence waned when he misunderstood the question.

  “With all due respect, sir. Everyone in this office was qualified for that job. Some of them have been here for decades. No one knows how to run this clinic better than we do, and by your hiring an outside person, they’re already at a disadvantage with their lack of experience. I just don’t understand why you would make that decision.”

  His hands came together on the desk, and he dropped his gaze as he gave a sigh. “It wasn’t my intention. But we met through a mutual acquaintance, and when he showed his interest in the position, he gave me his resume…and I thought he would be perfect.”

  It was hard to keep my cool. My eyebrows furrowed, and the vein in my forehead felt visible through my skin. It took all my strength not to lose my shit and go off on this old man. “More perfect than the people who already work here? Anthony? Me?”

  “Daisy, I think you’re a brilliant diagnostician. I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve got the kinds of brains that most of us lack. But I never seriously considered you for the position because you’re too young.”

  Ooh…I was gonna knock this fucker out. “And how old is this guy?”

  He hesitated, backed into a corner.

  Nope. Not gonna let it go. �
��How old is he, Dylan?”

  “I’m…I’m not sure—”

  “You said he was a young man, so he’s got to be younger than thirty-five. Why is he not too young, but I am?”

  Now he just stopped talking.

  “Sexist much?”

  “That’s not why—”

  “It’s exactly why. And this conversation never would have happened if you’d just selected one of my qualified colleagues. While you’re on vacation in the Hamptons, we have to deal with this guy and teach him how to do his job.”

  “He’s the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. He’ll be fine.”

  I wanted to keep arguing, but it was pointless. I aired my grievances—even though it didn’t make me feel better. The damage was done, and it couldn’t be changed, not now. “I honestly doubt his resume is that much different from anyone’s here—Harvard, Stanford, Johns Hopkins…we’ve all been there. Research and education, we’ve all got backgrounds in that. I just can’t believe that someone kissing your ass would be enough to sway you so easily, to be so disloyal to the people who are in here day in and day out. I’m here early every day and I leave late. Anthony is here just as much. Anthony graduated at the top of his class at Harvard and Stanford. There’s nothing more special about this guy.”

  Dylan pulled his hands apart, starting to show his annoyance. “I don’t appreciate you questioning me like this, Daisy—”

  “Too bad. I ask questions until I get sufficient answers. It’s why I’m so good at my job. So, now tell me why he’s such a better fit than any of us here? Because there has to be a better reason than what you’re giving me.”

  A cold stare ensued before he slowly pushed himself to his feet so he could have the greater height.

  I rose to my feet as well, refusing to let that happen.

  “It was the letter of recommendation.”

  “How could a stupid letter have that much impact?”

  His coldness ensued, like our relationship was forever changed because of my actions. “It can—when it’s written by Deacon Hamilton.”