Chapter 41
Forty-one
Liz
Hudson’s office is warm when I step inside, and two coffees wait on the small round table, a quiet gesture he uses to soften these weekly meetings.
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning.” I sit across from him at the table, my notebook ready, my stomach a little shaky with nerves. We’ve been over most of this information, and I spent half of yesterday tightening these slides, but presenting them always makes the stakes feel higher.
He shuts his laptop and gives me his full attention. “Ready when you are.”
I open my binder. “First full draft of the HR and succession findings.”
“Show me.”
I slide the chart over. “Staffing looks different from what most people assume.”
His eyes catch on the red blocks. “That much?”
“Most of it is nursing,” I say. “Several units are close to unsafe ratios. We knew it anecdotally, but the data spells it out.”
He nods as he absorbs that, then gestures for the next page.
“Physicians are short in a few areas too,” I say. “Not as severe, but enough to create pressure.”
He nods until he flips again. “Overstaffed?”
“Just in small pockets,” I clarify. “It’s nothing anyone’s doing wrong. The workload just doesn’t match the way they’re structured anymore.”
Hudson leans back, processing. “I didn’t realize certain departments ran that light.”
“Most people don’t,” I say. “When one team’s drowning, everyone assumes it’s universal.”
He flips through the packet again. “This is solid work, Liz.”
Relief loosens my shoulders. “Thank you.”
He taps the binder. “All right. Solutions.”
I turn to the blue tab. “HR’s recommending targeted recruiting and stronger retention efforts. We have candidates in the pipeline, but not enough to stabilize the gaps long term.”
He scans the notes. “Pipeline expansion makes sense, but the budget has to match.”
“We can’t move forward without leadership sign-off,” I agree.
“And hiring before burnout is always cheaper than hiring after someone has burned out. We’re starting to see the early signs.
The sick calls were up last month. Charting lagged behind shifts by hours.
Nothing catastrophic, just enough friction to show how thin everyone is stretched. ”
He listens without flinching. It’s one of the things I respect about him.
“What else?” he asks.
“Better onboarding,” I say. “Mentorship. Structured support. It keeps new hires from getting swallowed up on day one.”
“That tracks,” he says. “You’ve built a strong case, but can we fund it?”
“We can’t do this piecemeal.”
“You’re right.”
There’s something warm in his tone, but I keep my expression neutral.
He’s quiet for a moment, and then closes the binder. “I have a couple of ideas for how to frame this, but it needs a wider audience.”
I nod, expecting him to ask for a briefing or a summary.
He doesn’t break eye contact. “The leadership team first,” he says. “And then the board. I’d like you to present it.”
My breath catches. “To the board?”
Hudson nods. “You’re the one who built this. You understand it better than anyone else. They need to hear it from you.”
I sit back, trying to absorb this. I’ve sat in on board meetings before, tucked in at the far end of the room, taking notes or updating a project tracker.
But presenting? Speaking directly to them?
That’s something else entirely. “I don’t usually…
That’s not typically my role,” I say, not protesting, just trying to catch up to the size of what he’s asking.
“You’re ready,” he says. No pep talk. No grand speech. Just quiet certainty.
There’s something grounding in that. Under my nerves, a ribbon of pride starts to unfurl. “Okay,” I say after a moment. “If that’s what you need, I’ll do it.”
His mouth curves. “Good. The leadership team will meet later this week, and then you can start preparing the version you’ll present to the board. I’ll review it with you before we schedule anything.”
I nod, still feeling a bit shocked. Presenting to the board. Me.
Hudson reaches for his mug, but his eyes stay on mine. “You’re doing excellent work, Liz. It’s time people beyond this office see it.”
Heat moves through me. I close the binder and try my best not to look like I’m floating. “Thank you,” I tell him. “Let’s make it happen.”
Hudson nods and shifts in his chair, flipping to the other binder. “All right,” he says. “Let’s talk about the drug trial project. Where are we on that?”
I straighten. “Actually…we’re in a good place.”
His brow lifts, and he seems skeptical. Fair enough. The project was a disaster the first time we opened the files—years of inconsistent documentation, half-finished summaries, and approvals buried in the wrong folders.
“Misty caught everything up,” I explain. “She organized the backlog, updated all the required documentation, and flagged a few discrepancies. It’s fully current now.”
Hudson’s expression shifts. “Misty did that?”
“Yes. She’s proved very helpful.”
“That’s good to know, though I’m not sure I want to reward her yet,” he mutters.
“I get it,” I say. “But we’ve had some good conversations, and the work is being done well consistently. This isn’t a one-off burst of effort. She’s been on top of it every day.”
He taps the binder, frowning slightly.
“As you know, this is a heavily administrative project,” I explain. “It needs someone who can devote the time to it, especially if we’re hoping to attract more drug trials. Those bring in real money. Money we can put toward staffing and recruitment.”
He looks up. He’s listening now, really listening.
“Misty has a degree in hospital administration,” I continue. “She wants this, and she has an aptitude for it. If we’re smart, we’ll train her. She’s an employee worth developing.”
He seems thoughtful. “Do you really think she can handle more responsibility?”
“I do. I think she already is,” I say. “I’ll keep an eye on her work, and if I see anything change, I’ll address it quickly.”
Hudson studies the binder and flips through some of the pages. Then he nods. “Let’s talk to her.” He stands and crosses to the door, peeking out into the reception area. I can hear the clicking of her keyboard before he even says her name.
“Misty? Can you join us for a minute?”
There’s a beat of silence, then the soft scrape of her chair. She steps into the doorway with her shoulders pulled tight, hands clasped in front of her. Given our start, I understand her hesitation.
Hudson gestures toward the empty chair across from him. “Come sit.”
Her eyes flick briefly to me, searching for a clue, and I smile, trying to be encouraging. I don’t want her to think this is a trap.
Hudson taps the drug trial binder on the table. “Liz tells me you’ve been handling this project.”
Misty’s lips part, as if she’s waiting for the rest of the sentence, waiting for the criticism she’s sure will follow.
“She says you jumped in and really helped,” he adds.
Misty’s face softens. She exhales and sits a little straighter. “It was a great project to work on,” she says. “I liked getting everything organized. It helped that Liz had already started the structure for it.”
The comment warms something in me. It’s the first time she’s acknowledged my effort without reservation.
Hudson nods. “Good. Because I’d like you to take it over for a while.”
Her eyes widen. “Full time?”
“Not exclusively,” he clarifies. “But I want to see how you manage this along with your other duties. If future trials come in, we’ll need someone who can keep the process tight.”
Misty’s hesitation melts into excitement so quickly it feels like watching the sun break through clouds.
“I’d love to. Actually, I’ve already seen two upcoming trials in the pipeline—one for neurology and another for GLP-1s.
I bookmarked them in case they’re relevant, and it’s something we’re interested in. ”
Hudson’s gaze moves to me, seeming impressed despite himself. “That’s good initiative,” he tells her. “Plan on joining our weekly project meetings. We’ll go through everything together.”
“Of course,” she says. “Thank you. Really.”
Misty rises, and Hudson lets me know we’ve finished as well. He opens his laptop and dismisses us with a nod. Misty clutches the binder to her chest, as if it’s proof she didn’t imagine all of this.
I’m halfway to my chair when I hear her soft footsteps behind me. Misty pauses in the doorway, then takes a breath and steps in.
“Liz?” she says.
I swivel to face her. “Yeah?”
“I just… I wanted to say thank you. For everything in there. For saying good things about me. And for giving me a chance after I didn’t give you one.”
“You’re welcome,” I tell her. “You’ve more than shown what you can do. I’m glad you took on the project. It matters.”
She shifts the binder into one hand so she can tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t expect Hudson to ask me to come to the weekly meetings or to trust me with this much.”
“You earned that.” I shrug. “You did the work. I’m just the one who noticed.”
Her breath catches on a tiny laugh, relieved. “Still. Thank you.”
I nod toward the binder. “You’re going to do great. At my last job, managing these trials was a full-time role. The fact that you’ve picked it up this quickly says a lot.”
Her face brightens. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay. I’ll…get to it then.”
She steps out of my office and crosses back to her desk.
I watch her for a moment. This has been a good morning. Hudson is trusting me with the leadership and board presentations, and Misty has a new project she can be proud of. The office feels balanced in a way it hasn’t since I arrived.
Next up is reviewing my notes for this week’s presentation to the leadership team and figuring out what, if anything, needs to be tweaked for the board. The morning has left me optimistic, and the work feels manageable instead of overwhelming.
My phone buzzes against the desk. It’s a missed call notification, and when I check the log, I see Alaric’s name. He tried reaching me twice last night. No voicemail. No text. Just two calls I didn’t hear.
I study the screen, unsure why the sight of his name slows me down. Nothing about those calls changes the work in front of me or the path I’ve chosen for myself, but they linger in my awareness anyway.
I put the phone face down. I need to finish preparing, and there’s still a full day of other work ahead of me. Whatever he wants can wait until I have the space to think about it. If it was urgent or work-related, he’d leave a message, right?
I take a slow breath and return to my notes, focusing myself on the part of my life that finally feels like it’s moving forward.