Chapter 7
Cameron
“Cameron,” my lawyer sits down in front of me at the coffee shop table, americano in hand. “Tell me you have good news.”
“I don’t have bad news,” I say, pulling up a chair and taking a sip of my cappuccino. “Unless you count the fact that my father is done, my brother’s an ass and my hospital is slowly filling with water. But other than that, things aren’t so bad.”
He chuckles at my sarcastic humor and stirs a packet of Splenda into his coffee. “Don’t tell Josh, but I always liked you better. He’s a bit…” he squints at the corner of the shop, sifting for the right word.
“Arrogant? Egotistical? Heartless?” I do my best to provide him with the right adjective.
“Annoying. Like a mosquito. You on the other hand understand how things work.”
“Yeah,” I suck the air between my teeth before taking a sip of my cappuccino. Speaking of that.
“So what can I do for you, Cam? It’s not every day I get to leave my stuffy high rise office and have a cup of coffee with one of my favorite clients.”
“Well, I’m glad you asked. Because I need to talk about that trust,” I start in.
James smiles with a nod. “There it is. I knew it would happen eventually. And sooner than later, I predicted.”
“It’s just that the hospital is going under, James. I see it. You see it, I’m sure. Unfortunately Josh sees it. And I don’t want that. Hell, we know my father never wanted that.”
“I agree. So. Who is she?”
My brow furrows. “Who is who?”
“The woman. That you’re going to marry.”
I set my coffee down and rub my hands together. “So here’s the thing about that. I understand that it’s in his will. And that as his lawyer you have to honor wills. But–”
“Cameron,” he lets out an exhaustive exhale. “My hands are bound. I can’t change the paperwork.”
“Even if the stipulations are ridiculous?” I argue back. “I was married already. Doesn’t that count? Emily and I were together for several years.”
“But you aren’t together now. And the will says you have to be married. Currently. And you’re not.”
I lean in, praying that I can square with him somehow. “James. We play golf together on Saturdays. We drink together. We even go to Giants games together. You have to see how dire this situation is right now.”
“And I do. Trust me, Cam, I do. Your hospital is in serious trouble. But I can’t do anything about it. Only you can. Without a ring on someone’s finger, the money is locked. I’m sorry.”
I nod and finish my coffee. I don’t know what I thought he was going to do.
But it was worth a try. Honestly, every time I go into that free-clinic I feel sick.
The staffing for it is short right now, partly because we can’t keep paying people to work at a place that in and of itself makes no money.
But I’d rather it be chaotically bursting at the seams than gone.
As I walk out of the coffee shop onto the slightly cool, November street I take a deep breath.
Many times since my father died I have wished that I could talk to him.
Ask his advice, pick his brain on just about everything.
But this…this is the one thing I truly wish he could advise me on.
We may not have been the most lucrative medical facility when he was running it.
But the doors stayed open. People were taken care of and the staff was paid.
Maybe it was slowly bleeding out and it’s finally now going dry.
I don’t know. All I know is I can’t watch it fail. I just can’t.
A holiday festival is sprawled across the streets.
I consider getting in my car, driving home and pouring myself a drink.
But between the festive music, laughing children and happy faces everywhere, I feel lured to stay.
Walk around a bit. Maybe grab a spiked cider from the stand I already spotted on the corner.
The hot cup feels good in my hand. It’s not that cold out, I mean we are in California.
But it’s comforting nonetheless. I can smell the extra cinnamon I asked for, a touch my father would have put on his.
I never liked cinnamon as a kid. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I still don’t. But it reminds me of him.
I pass craft booths and food vendors. People are even selling wreaths, even though it’s not even Thanksgiving yet and I just smile. Then I stop–
Across the street at a booth selling baked goods is a woman with overly curly brown hair…and Riley. I spot Noah, organizing cookies on one of the tables with another little boy. Riley’s back is to me and she’s talking to the curly headed woman who is nodding in agreement to whatever she’s saying.
With a smirk teasing the corner of my mouth, I walk over.
“So I’m wondering about getting a second opinion about the urgency of the transplant.
I was looking into it and the surgery would be…
astronomical. I’m talking six plus figures even with insurance.
Not that that matters but I just can’t believe that that’s the cost of my child living a healthy life. ”
“Hospitals are the worst,” the other woman says.
“No, that’s doctors. Doctors are the worst,” I cut in and Riley spins around.
“Cameron!” Noah is throwing himself around me before I can even react and I nearly spill my cider.
“Hey buddy. Looks like you’re feeling better?”
“Yeah I’m okay,” he says, still latched onto my legs, smiling up at me. His shaggy brown hair is staticy and wild and his eyes are bright. He looks thin, thinner than I’d like, but at least he has some energy.
“What are you doing here?” Riley asks Cooley.
“I was having coffee with a friend and saw the festival happening and thought I’d browse. Unless…that’s not okay?”
“You can hang out with us!” Noah says.
“Noah, honey,” she shakes her head but Noah keeps going.
“This is mommy’s friend Brianna and my friend Bailey,” he says to me.
“Cameron,” I extend a hand to Riley’s smiling friend.
“Cameron,” she echoes. “As in Doctor Cameron.”
“Yes!” Noah says. “He’s the best doctor. He lets me play with his stethoscope and gets me ice cream.”
Brianna smiles at Noah and then me and then looks over at Riley. “Well, if that’s not cool I don’t know what is.”
Riley is staring at me with a small smile. It’s not a friendly one though.
“And as nice as it was to run into you, you were just leaving right?” she asks.
“I thought about it…but maybe I should get a second opinion…”
Riley’s face turns red but I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or anger. I’m leaning towards the latter.
“Were you eves dropping on my conversation?”
“Not at all. Just the part about you questioning my medical advice,” I stake a sip of my cider and smile.
She looks over at Brianna who is smiling but definitely got an oh boy look on her face.
“Bri, will you watch Noah for me for a minute? I think me and the doctor need to talk.”
The way she says it– the doctor– sounds a bit condescending for my taste but I still side with her.
I brace myself for the same fiery mouth I put up with at the hospital.
She’s got the same look on her face as before.
The only difference is, this time she is more appropriately clothed.
She’s wearing jeans, a cropped red sweater and her long hair is in a high ponytail.
It’s a good look. Of course anything would look good on her, I’m convinced.
“Doctor Reinhart–” she begins.
“Cameron,” I correct her.
“Right. I know…he needs the surgery. And I know it needs to be as soon as possible. I guess I’m just afraid.”
“Understandably,” I say.
“So many things could go wrong.”
I yank the conversational wheel to the hard left. “Is there a father in the picture?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she snaps.
“I’m only asking because if you are the only guardian in the picture, that can make a difference as far as grants go.”
“Oh,” she says, her eyes everywhere but on my face. “No. The father…doesn’t even know he exists.”
I don’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for me to press. But I don’t. Unfortunately, I see things like this a lot. It’s salt in a wound that I do my best to keep numb.
“Understand. And you’re right. The things that can go wrong are intimidating. But they’re less likely if he’s in the right hands.”
“You’re a doctor,”
“Last time I checked yes,” I joke. Her face tells me she doesn’t think it’s funny.
“You’re not supposed to make promises you can’t keep.”
I can think of a million things I could say to get her riled up but obviously, it’s not a joke matter. “I know you’re scared. But the reality of it is Noah needs new lungs. And that need is only going to get more and more urgent with every passing day. But Reinhart will take care of him.”
Riley tips her chin up and chews her lip for a moment. I’ve noticed it’s something she does when she’s trying not to cry. It works because not a single tear brims her blue eyes. “Is that it?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“No snarky comments?”
“I’m trying to be professional,” I say.
“Is that hard for you?”
“No. It isn’t. Is treating your son’s medical staff with respect hard for you?”
Her eyes widen. “Only when they don’t act professional.”
“Then I promise to be on my best behavior. From now on, every time I see you at the hospital there will be no teasing.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” she nods as she turns away.
“As long as you promise not to impersonate nurses again,” I add, biting back a smile. “It was cute, don’t get me wrong. But it was kind of confusing. Professionally speaking.”
Riley shoots me a look to kill. I take that as my cue to leave.
As I walk away, I can’t stop smiling. I also can’t stop the wheels that are churning in my head. No father in the picture. From the sounds of it, she is truly on her own. A thought pokes at my mind, though it’s completely insane.
It’s just ironic that she needs insurance and a rather large sum of money to pay for her kid’s transplant. And I just might have a rather obscene amount of money laying around, though I can’t access it without putting a ring on it.
No.
It’s a crazy idea.
Or…is it?