Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
B ack at the hospital, I have an unexpected visitor waiting for me at my door—Chip Barrington, the hospital COO. My skin crawls at the sight of him.
"Anderson. Taking a long lunch, I see."
"Not quite, Chip. In fact, most of the nurses on this floor and I average about one lunch break a week, thanks to the insane patient volume and not enough staff. How's that new budget looking?"
"Looking the same as it did last month and the month before that."
Sounds about right. "What can I do for you?"
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and unlock my office door. "Sure, come on in."
He sits on the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, looking around the room. "Nice spot you've got here, Anderson."
"Thanks. I've got a pretty busy afternoon, so how can I help you?" I have zero patience for this man.
"The pediatric psych ED. We need it. The projected revenue could float other parts of the hospital. Maybe dig us out of this hole we're in. We need it to work, and we need it done fast."
"Okay …"
"The hospital needs a show of good faith before they'll cough up any money. There are several grants available for this type of endeavor. If we can get at least three of the big ones, they'll give us permission—and more importantly, money—to do the bulk of the work. We'll have to figure the rest out later. But it's a start. And I'm tapping you to do it."
"Do what? The grant proposal?"
"Yes."
"I have no experience with grant writing. It's completely out of my wheelhouse. Don't we have someone who does this somewhere in the hospital?"
"Not anyone who is available. Plus, you know the language, the need, the scope of the unit."
"Okay. I'll do it. It'll take me some time to figure it out, but I'll get it done."
"Well, that's the other part."
I stare at him.
"The proposals are due December first."
"That's in less than three weeks. It's also Thanksgiving." And Matt's birthday, and Mexico, I add silently in my head.
"I know. I figured it shouldn't be too hard for you to squeeze in. You spend so much time here anyway, and there's no partner or kids to steal your attention away," he says, smiling, looking at his fingernails. I fight the urge to smack the smug look right off his face.
"Thanks for your consideration. And my personal life remains none of your business, Chip," I say with a saccharine smile. "I'll get the grant done." I get up and open the door. "If there's nothing else, you'll have to excuse me. I have work to do."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Anderson."
Prick.