Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THOMAS
I want to meet with Constance this morning about as much as I want to take an ice plunge in Antarctica. Newsflash: I hate bathing in water that’s not hot enough to make soup.
At nine o’clock on the nose, I walk into the administrative offices and let the woman at the reception desk know who I’m there to see. Is it me or is that pity in her eyes?
I sit on one of the double-wide chairs in the waiting room, eyeing the outdated magazines. While reading headlines about dramatic celebrity weight loss, it occurs to me I should just leave. What’s Constance going to do? Hunt me down to tell me I can’t date Finley?
As I stand up to go, my boss walks out of her office. Constance is wearing a black cocktail dress with rhinestone embellishments. If the sparkles aren’t enough to scream “inappropriate work attire,” then the short length and plunging neckline do the trick.
“Constance.” I’m not even trying to keep the censure out of my tone.
“Thomas,” she gushes as she takes a step toward me. “You caught me trying on dresses for the Spring Fling!” She throws her hands into the air like she’s just released fistfuls of confetti.
I don’t believe I caught her doing anything she didn’t want me to. So, I tell her, “You set the time, not me.” I’m guessing she thought wearing an alluring dress would get me to see her as a dating prospect. If that was her plan, it didn’t work.
“I suppose time just got away from me.” She giggles like she’s half-drunk.
“I have a full day ahead of me, Constance,” I tell her. “What is it you’d like to talk to me about?”
Her face morphs into an expression of shock. “Oh.” She waves at me to follow her back into her lair. Which I reluctantly do.
Once inside, I see several large bags scattered around from various stores. Constance has clearly been busy. She forces a laugh that comes out sounding like the cry of a wounded animal. “I bought way too many things, but I really want to look great for this year’s fling.”
“Why am I here?” I ask bluntly.
Again, she doesn’t seem to expect my directness. “I guess I just … you know …” She walks over to her desk and rifles around it for a moment before picking up an envelope made of heavy card stock. She tries to hand it to me but I don’t take it. “I wanted to give you a copy of the invitation.”
She can’t be serious. “You emailed me the information, Constance. I don’t need a physical copy.”
She hurriedly opens the flap and pulls out the invite. “But they’re so pretty this year.” Once again, she jabs it in my direction.
I should just take it and leave, but I don’t. Instead, I stand totally still while narrowing my gaze like I’m peering at her under a microscope. Then I tell her, “I’m not going to the Spring Fling with you, Constance. I’m going with Finley.”
“If you’re still dating.” She raises a blonde eyebrow in challenge. Constance really is an attractive woman—pretty, even—but her manipulative ways coupled with her entitlement make her downright loathsome.
“Even if I’m not dating Finley,” I tell her, “I will not go with you. I don’t date people I work with.” This is a lie, but I’m not above telling a falsehood to shut this down.
Constance exhales loudly enough to show irritation.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never dated another doctor or pretty little nurse, Thomas.
I refuse to believe that.” The way she says “pretty little nurse” makes me feel dirty.
Constance should show support to the medical community, but instead, she’s disparaging them.
“I don’t really care what you think, Constance. I don’t mean to be rude, but I do not like feeling hunted.” Her mouth hangs open at being spoken to so plainly. “I took the job in Elk Lake because I wanted a change of pace. I did not take it because I wanted to date you.”
My boss glares at me with an expression akin to hatred, which is rather unnerving. “I didn’t hire you because I wanted to date you, Thomas,” she practically spits. Liar.
“Then why have you been pursuing me?” I ask. “You’ve been bent on getting me to go to this dance with you even though I’ve told you on several occasions I’m already spoken for.”
Constance looks mad enough that if she had telekinetic powers I’d probably be on my way out the window. “I asked you to help you,” she says condescendingly. “I was doing you a favor.”
“A favor …” I repeat her words in shock. This woman is doing me no favors.
With her hands positioned angrily on her hips, she says, “I wanted to introduce you around. You know, help you get to know some more people in town.”
I don’t believe her for a minute, as she could do that regardless of who my date was.
She’s simply scrambling to try to get out of an embarrassing situation.
At lease, I hope she’s embarrassed. “While I appreciate your intent,” I tell her.
“I once again respectfully decline your offer. Now if that will be all, I need to get going.”
I turn around to leave, but Constance stops me.
“That isn’t all, Thomas.” I turn back to face her in time to hear, “I’m going to have to make some changes to your schedule.
You’re going to take over the night shift starting next week.
Dr. Ramirez is going to be taking some time off.
” The expression on her face is so superior, it’s clear she thinks she’s won.
“Dr. Ramirez is going on maternity leave,” I tell her. “You mentioned that when I was hired. But you also told me Dr. Hammond was going to move to nights, and that I would take Dr. Hammond’s place during the day.”
“Is that what I said?” She’s obviously trying to get even with me for not wanting to date her and I’m tempted to tell her what to do with her job. The problem is, I signed a contract and it didn’t specify what shifts I would work. I only had Constance’s word on that.
While I could accuse her of sexual harassment to get out of my contract, I don’t have any real evidence yet. Of course, after today, I plan on going home and starting a journal of all things said and retribution executed.
“You clearly told me I would be working a day shift,” I assure Constance.
“Well, Thomas …”—she glares at me like I just ran over her cat—“things change. And they’re going to change starting Monday. Please check your revised schedule and report for work accordingly.”
I worked the night shift for four years when I was starting out and the whole time I felt like a vampire.
It was dark when I went to the hospital and dark when I came home.
I rarely saw the sun, and I missed it. Now, years after paying my dues, I’m being cast back into the shadows. I am not pleased.
With any luck, I’ll have enough on Constance to file a formal complaint soon, but in the meantime, I’ll have to play along with her little game. “If that’s all,” I tell her.
“That’s all,” she says dismissively before turning her attention back to her desk.
Instead of saying goodbye, I bolt out of her office like I’m trying to escape a horrible smell.
Finley is right, male bosses have not always treated their female employees respectfully.
And while I’ve known this, I’ve not experienced what they’ve had to endure.
Before now, that is. It’s sobering to get this kind of insight.
On the way to the lounge, I run into Edward Hall, a doctor I met last week. He’s a gregarious middle-aged man, who smiles when he sees me. “Dr. Culpepper, how are you enjoying life in our little town?”
“I haven’t seen much of it yet,” I tell him. “But so far, so good.” Better to sound happy to be here than to openly complain.
“I predict you’re going to love it. Anytime you’d like a tour, you let me know and I’ll be happy to show you some hotspots.”
“Hotspots? Like nightclubs?” Dr. Hall does not strike me as a man who parties.
He releases a bark of laughter. “There are no nightclubs in Elk Lake, at least that I know of.”
“What hotspots, then?”
“Fishing spots, son. I know all the best ones. Bass, pike, bluegill, walleye, and of course the mighty crappie!”
“Crappie?” This day is getting odder by the minute.
Smacking his lip together, he says, “Mild, sweet, flakey. You can’t beat the crappie, Thomas.”
“I’m not much of a fisherman,” I tell him. “In fact, I’ve never been.” And if I had, I feel that on principle I would have avoided trying to catch a crappie.
“Never been fishing?” Edward’s posture jolts like he was just on the receiving end of a cattle prod. “Well, then, we’re going to have to fix that. What mornings are you free? We should really get an early start. Five a.m. is best.”
“I’m going to have to let you know,” I tell him. “It appears I’ll be covering for Dr. Ramirez at nights for a while.”
He looks confused. “Didn’t I hear that Dr. Hammond was going to be doing that?”
I shrug in response. “That was my understanding, too, but it seems there have been some changes.”
Edward claps me on the shoulder. “You let me know if you ever want to get out of the ER game and go into private practice. I can give you some tips.”
“Don’t you work here at the hospital?” I ask. I haven’t been here long enough to get to know everyone on staff, but I see him here regularly, so I just assumed.
He shakes his head. “No, sir. I only stop in to see my patients who’ve been admitted. I like to make them feel like a friend is looking out for them.”
This is enormously kind of Edward. Traditionally, once a patient is admitted to the hospital, they’re under the care of a hospitalist and not their primary care doctor. “Your patients are lucky to have you,” I tell him.
“In private practice you get to form bonds with people.” He smiles brightly. “Honestly, it’s my favorite part of what we do. I like to feel like I’m part of my patient’s daily lives.”
“That’s a refreshing attitude,” I reply. Looking at the clock behind him, I add, “I’m running late though. I’d better be off.”
As I turn to walk away, he says, “Let me know when your schedule changes back and we’ll set up a time to catch some fish.”
“Will do,” I tell him. And while I’ve never particularly longed to fish for my own food, I expect I would enjoy spending time with Edward out on a boat somewhere. After all, the whole point of moving to Elk Lake was so I could experience a slower pace of life.
But first, I have to figure out how to shake Constance.