Chapter 59 Too Secure to Care
“Where are we going?” Ryan asked.
He’d collected Whitmore from the clinic and was following his directions toward a resort hotel.
“The patient is visiting from out of town. His grandfather is giving a dinner tonight. He’s invited me—and Charles Harding, apparently.”
“A consultation?”
Whitmore’s expression grew complicated.
“Harding is another of the four leading physicians. We’ve disagreed more than once. We don’t get along.”
He sighed.
“I would have declined, but I owe the boy’s grandfather a favor.”
Ryan chuckled.
“Two celebrated doctors who dislike being contradicted. What happens when you disagree?”
“That’s my concern. The patient isn’t quite two. He can’t explain what hurts. I wanted another pair of eyes, someone who’ll think about the child instead of the argument.”
“I’ll do my best.”
They reached the hotel half an hour later.
Whitmore presented his invitation. Ryan, who had none, was stopped.
The doctor’s expression tightened. He’d been asked to examine a child, yet the staff wouldn’t admit the colleague he’d brought to help.
For a moment, he was tempted to leave. Instead, he made a call.
An assistant appeared soon afterward and escorted them inside.
“The little boy has just fallen asleep after crying for some time. Mr. Harrington would like him to rest. Please enjoy dinner first. We’ll arrange the examination when he wakes.”
Whitmore frowned, then nodded.
When the assistant left, they found seats.
Ryan looked around the lavish room.
“Invites the doctors, keeps them waiting, and doesn’t come over himself. Who is he?”
“A wealthy man who sees doctors as service providers,” Whitmore said with a rueful smile. “Politeness isn’t always respect.”
“To some people, every problem has a price. If one fee isn’t enough, offer more.”
“Few people turn down money as readily as you do.”
Whitmore smiled.
“Victor came to thank me the other day. Offered seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I refused, so he brought a two-hundred-year-old ginseng root instead.”
He looked almost sheepish.
“I couldn’t refuse that. But such a gift, when I couldn’t treat his father myself…”
“You helped bring us together. Accept the thanks.”
More guests arrived. Men in tailored suits, women in evening dresses and jewelry.
Whitmore’s white formal jacket suited his age and dignified bearing. Ryan’s black T-shirt and jeans drew a different kind of attention.
Some guests looked surprised. Others made no effort to hide their disdain.
“I should have told you,” Whitmore said. “I thought we’d see the patient and leave. I hadn’t expected the dinner.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Ryan looked entirely comfortable.
“I’m not here to impress them. A suit wouldn’t change who I am, and their opinion won’t ruin my evening.”
Whitmore considered him and smiled.
“I was worrying about appearances.”
Two couples entered with a young man and woman between them.
Ryan’s attention caught on Chloe.
Her blue gown left her shoulders bare, and a diamond necklace glittered at her throat. Jason, in a showy white suit, was talking beside her.
Her expression suggested she wanted him to stop.
Ryan turned back to Whitmore.
“The host isn’t Lawrence Harrington from Raleigh, is he?”
“How did you know?”
“The Bennetts mentioned a dinner while I was treating Walter.”
“Yes. That’s him.”
Ryan smiled. Another coincidence.
Chloe had entered looking for somewhere quiet to hide. Then she saw a black T-shirt among the evening clothes.
Her expression transformed.
“Ryan!”