Chapter 1 #2
An attractive brunette sits in the outer office, talking on the phone. She’s around forty, with olive skin and warm brown eyes that cool when she sees Heather.
We wait patiently until she hangs up.
“Hi, Celine,” Heather says. “This is Alexandra Parker. She’s going to be Dr. Malone’s new assistant. For his department chief responsibilities.”
Celine makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a snort.
“What was that, Celine?” Heather asks.
Celine forces her lips into a smile. “Welcome, Alexandra.”
I force myself to smile back at her. “Thank you, Celine.”
“Excellent,” Heather says. She glances at the door to the inner office, which is firmly closed. “Is Dr. Malone in?”
Celine shakes her head. “Operating room,” she says succinctly.
“Operating room?” Heather repeats.
“He is a surgeon,” Celine says with a shrug.
“Of course,” Heather says. “But I didn’t think he operated Mondays.”
“He doesn’t usually,” Celine says. “But sometimes he does.”
Heather glances back at the closed door. It’s clear she doesn’t entirely believe Celine, but she doesn’t have the guts to knock on the door herself.
“All right.” Heather’s eyes scan the outer office. It’s furnished with exactly one desk, one chair, one computer, and one phone, and Celine’s using them all. “I thought there was a second desk in here, with a computer?”
“Dr. Malone had it removed a couple months ago, when the last assistant quit,” Celine explains.
“Ah,” Heather says. “Well, you’ll have to call the storeroom and get it sent back. And call IT for another computer.”
Celine stares her down. “I’ll have to ask Dr. Malone’s permission first.”
I don’t understand the dynamic here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Celine was the executive and Heather was the assistant.
Heather purses her lips, and I can tell she’s debating whether to argue the point. In the end, she gives in.
“All right, then. Alexandra, I’ll leave you with Celine. She can orient you to Dr. Malone’s schedule. There’s a multidisciplinary communication meeting later this month that we’d like him to attend. I’ll email you the details.”
“Of course. Thanks Heather.” Without a computer, I have no way of accessing my work email, but what else can I say?
Heather leaves, and Celine turns back to her computer. I’m left standing in the middle of the office, without a chair. There isn’t even a spot to stash my oversized purse, so it stays on my shoulder, straining my cervical spine.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” I ask Celine politely.
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Heather mentioned that all the department chiefs have assistants for the department admin. Totally separate from the assistants who help with the clinical work.”
“Of course.”
“So I’m really not a threat to your job,” I tell her.
Celine’s lips curve with amusement. “I didn’t think you were.”
The phone rings, and Celine picks it up after the first ring.
“Dr. Malone’s office,” she says smoothly.
There’s a brief silence as she listens to the caller.
“No, Mrs. Pendleton, it’s not a mistake.
Dr. Malone’s booking in November for non-urgent consultations.
You were lucky to get the October appointment. ”
Another silence, and Celine rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re welcome to ask your doctor to refer you to a different surgeon. Please let me know if you’d like to cancel. Thank you.”
“Dr. Malone’s in high demand,” I remark, as Celine hangs up the phone. It’s almost May, so his wait time is over six months.
“Uh huh.”
The phone rings again, and I listen to a variation of Celine’s last conversation. She’s very sorry, but Dr. Malone definitely does not have an earlier appointment.
My gaze sweeps the office, which is immaculately neat. Spotless, in fact, with no papers to file or plants to water. There’s nothing I can do to show initiative and make myself useful.
“Should I go to the operating room?” I ask Celine. “Introduce myself to Dr. Malone?”
Celine presses her lips together as though she’s trying to hold in a laugh. “No, Alexandra. You definitely should not go to the operating room.”
“Okay. And you’re sure there’s nothing I can help with?”
She shrugs and gestures at the door to the inner office. “You might as well go in now,” she drawls. “You can introduce yourself to Dr. Malone.”
“But . . . you said he was in the operating room.”
“I lied,” Celine says unapologetically. “Go ahead. He’s not due in the clinic until noon.”
I move nervously toward the inner office and knock on the door.
“Yeah,” comes an impatient voice. “Come in.”
I take a tentative step into the office, and Dr. Malone comes into view. He’s sitting behind a desk and frowning at his computer. He’s younger than I expected, and nothing like the absent-minded professor I imagined.
He looks up from the computer and takes me in, and I feel like his dark eyes are pinning me to the floor.
I force myself to take a step forward. I really need this job.
Dr. Malone’s gaze stays fixed on me as he picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip.
But I know he’s not drinking coffee. He’s drinking mint tea.
He’s the man from the coffee line. The one who paid for my ridiculously expensive drink.