“She was there to talk to them,” Grace, Claire’s other supporter said. “Since you won’t agree to what has to be done, there’s no point in this meeting. We’ll start a petition among the nurses.”
“Fine,” Jenessa said.
The pair of women walked to the door. “Wait ‘til Claire hears. She’ll kick you off the committee.”
Once the pair had left, Jenessa leaned forward. “Ready to plot some mischief.”
Nan shook her head. “Not mischief. Community relations. After the Board gets the letter from our lawyer, they’ll have to meet us.”
Dru shrugged. “Maybe, but we need to do more. What about a newspaper ad that lets people know the score?”
“I like that,” Jenessa said.
“Do you think the News will print it?” Nan asked. “They ignore our letters to the editor. Bishop owns a large part of the paper.”
Jenessa laughed. “We’re offering them money. Remember that Bishop thinks money makes the earth shake and the stars glow.”
Simone nodded. “You’ve got my vote. What about informational picketing, say Friday during visiting hours?”
“What if someone talks?” Dru asked. “Surprise is best for that sort of tactic.”
“We’ll keep it to the four of us, plus Megan,” Jenessa said.
“What about signs?”
“I’ll do them tomorrow,” Jenessa said. “Can anyone help me?”
“Count me in,” Simone said.
Drew grinned. “On Friday just before we leave, I’ll call my neighbor. He’s a reporter for the News.”
Jenessa gathered her papers and slung her jacket over her shoulder. “See you guys.” She headed to the door.
“Jen, wait.” Simone caught up with her at the curb. “What time should I come?”
“Eleven. I have to buy supplies.”
The black nurse smiled. “I’ll bring leftovers from the buffet for lunch. Why don’t you come with me now? We could pig out and dream up slogans.”
“I’m meeting Eric.”
“He’s a good man.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “It’s not what you think. We’re friends.” She got into the car and drove away.
Eric was a good man, but he was also administration. Tonight, she’d managed to delay the call for a strike vote, but if the Board continued to stonewall the nurses, the uneasy truce would end. In that situation, even a friendship of years could be destroyed. She and Eric were too new to survive.
She parked on the street across from the restaurant. Inside, she ordered coffee and sat where she could see the street. What was she going to do about Eric? He made her feel as though she was hovering on the rim of an active volcano. His kisses held promises and forced her to confront her husband’s death and the guilt she’d tried to bury.
Part of the problem was that she wasn’t sure her marriage would have lasted. The closeness she and Chuck had shared through their childhood and teen years had been consumed by his passion for his camera. If her rival had been another woman, she could have fought. Instead, photography had claimed more of his heart than she had.
She pulled moments of the past into view. She drifted from childhood games to teenage courtship rituals, to the excitement of the first few months of marriage. Their love-making had been like athletic contests with both fighting for control.
The restaurant door opened. The courthouse clock chimed the hour. Ten already. Where was Eric? Had the Board meeting turned into a battle? She grabbed the check, paid and stepped into the crisp autumn night.
A short time later, she parked her car in the apartment lot and ran across the street to the hospital. The guard seated at the desk looked up. “Forget something?”
“Is the Board still meeting?”
“They finished around eight.”
That meant no contract offer. A slow burn of anger flowed through her veins. Bishop had changed the agenda. Hardly a surprise.
Where was Eric? Had he been afraid to tell her? That was hardly an excuse for standing her up. “Thanks.” She ran across the street and headed to Eric’s apartment. She rang the bell, waited and rang again. When there was no answer, she walked away.
Sparks of anger collided with embers of disappointment. She rode the elevator to three. “Megan,” she called.
A note from her roommate, propped against the phone, caught her eye. “Meet me at the Cove. Call Dru’s.”
She tapped her fingers on the table. Call Dru? Why? She had left there less than an hour before. She rewound the answering machine tape. Eric hadn’t called. The Cove. She shrugged. Why not?
*****
Eric stood in the storage room of The Pirate’s Cove and opened another box. “Bingo!” Eric’s exclamation echoed the one Sam had made outside the Board room. “Last Will and Testament of Grace Eastlake.” He placed the will in the carton containing the past five year’s minutes of the Board.
As he dusted off his gray slacks, he wished the tapes had been available. How could he be sure the typist had included every statement made at a meeting? Especially if there’d been a heated discussion?
He carried the box to Sam’s office and left it on the secretary’s desk. “Pick this up later. Eric.” He taped the note to the box. After a stop in the men’s room to wash his hands, he strode into the restaurant.
The hum of conversations and laughter, the clatter of dishes and the muted music of the jazz quintet greeted him. He paused at the end of the hall and caught the aromas of cigarettes, perfumes and food. A glance at the entrance elicited a groan. He’d been so involved with the search he’d forgotten Jenessa. Was she coming or going?
She stood beside the maitre d’, a burly man dressed as a pirate, complete with a stuffed parrot on his shoulder. Eric started toward them. She glared and pushed past the host.
What’s wrong with her, he wondered. He’d left a message with Megan. If anyone had a reason to be angry, he did. He heard Bishop’s gravely voice. “A strike vote.” The winds of the past sucked at him. He resisted the pull with anger.
Someone had told Bishop about the vote. Jenessa? Was that her reason for avoiding him? Was her animosity toward the Board president a pretense? But Sam had defended her. If the union meant this as a ploy to force the Board into talks, the plan would fail.
Discretionary powers for Bishop. A flash of guilt rocked Eric. The past had impinged on the present and rendered him impotent.
He entered the restaurant and skirted the edge of the dance floor to reach the table where Jenessa had joined Megan and two men. “Jenessa.” Anger tinged his voice.
“Mr. Bradshaw, how nice to see you. Doesn’t look a bit like Frank’s.”
“I left a message with Megan.”
“The only thing I found was a note telling me to meet her here.”
Megan flushed and stared at her hands. “I was supposed to call you at Dru’s, but I didn’t want to go to the meeting and I was on my way out the door. You’re here. That’s what counts.”
“Thanks a lot.” Jenessa and Eric spoke in unison.
Jenessa laughed. “I should have known you wouldn’t stand me up. I’m sorry.”
He crossed his arms on his chest. “Are you also sorry you didn’t warm me about the strike vote? Bishop knew. That’s why he changed the agenda and bullied the Board into an unwise decision.”
“What strike vote?”
He frowned. “I think we need to talk.”
“Fine, but do you mind if I head for the buffet first? Arguing makes me hungry.”
“Breathing makes you hungry,” Megan said.
Jenessa strode toward the buffet where miniature pirate ships held a variety of food. Eric watched her graceful yet athletic movements. Hunger, but not for food, arose.
“She likes you. I haven’t seen her this bothered for years.”
“Next time, try a little harder to pass messages along.”
“The catch is sweeter when the chase is hard.” Megan held out her hand to one of the men. “Let’s dance.”
Eric caught up with Jenessa at the buffet. He shook his head as she filled a plate with shrimp, lobster and other items. He steered her to a table near the raised platform for the quintet.
She dug into the food. Finally, she looked up. “Tell me about this strike vote.”
He related what Bishop had said. “He sounded so sure.”
“It could have happened, but the majority of the committee said no.”
“Where did he get his information?”
“Sandra. Claire. They’re best friends.”
The candle on the table flickered and softened her features. She popped a shrimp into her mouth. He swallowed.
“Thought you were meeting at Frank’s.” Simone pulled a chair to the table.”
“The site was changed, but I wasn’t told.”
“No message.”
“Faulty delivery,” Eric said.
Simone grinned. “You told Megan. You know, somewhere between the hospital and the apartment, her mind becomes a sieve. Hey, I’ve got the greatest idea --”
“Tomorrow,” Jenessa said.
Eric eyed the pair. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
“We’re meeting --” Simone began.
“For lunch,” Jenessa said.
Eric frowned. What was going on?
“Jen was great this evening. Halted a call for a strike vote.”
“And what do you plan to do?”
“Take legal action,” Jenessa said.
“Call in the Labor Board,” Eric said. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that already.”
“The committee was divided,” Simone said.
Sam approached the table and took Simone’s hand. “Want to do a set?”
Simone nodded. “See you tomorrow with lots of leftovers.”
Eric reached for Jenessa’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
She rose. They stepped onto the dance floor. There was no hesitation. They moved as though they’d been a pair forever.
He pulled her closer. His hand inched down until it rested against the small of her back. Her cheek brushed the soft wool of his sweater. The woodsy aroma of his after shave scented every breath she took. When she gazed into his eyes, the green glow made her think of hidden fires. Her nipples tightened. Her breasts felt full. The distance between their bodies narrowed. She felt the hardness of his arousal and swallowed.
The sensations evoked by the movements of the dance stirred desire. She inched away. Surely he could read the language of her body, but the confusion of her thoughts kept her from reaching to satisfy her need for him.
“It’s going to happen,” he whispered. “Why not tonight?”
His breath flowed across her skin. His hand stroked her back. She remembered the fire that had risen between them last week and the strength of her feelings tonight. She wanted him. How could she know if more than desire drew her to him? Until she knew, she couldn’t accept the fire and tenderness he offered.
The song ended. They remained on the dance floor, still swaying to the music. She felt as though she’d drunk several glasses of wine.
“Well now, don’t the pair of you look cozy. Just what I ordered.”
Bishop’s gravely voice broke the enchantment. Jenessa nodded. “Evening, Mr. Bishop.”
The older man chuckled. “Knew you could do it if you tried, boy.” He patted Jenessa’s shoulder. “Guess dreaming about him threw you off stride.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Told Eric to romance you and get your mind off the contract.” He winked. “When’s the strike vote?”
She didn’t want to believe him, but he sounded so confident. She broke away from Eric and strode past the buffet.
Chapter 6
Jenessa hurried past the buffet table. “Jenessa, we have to talk.” She glanced over her shoulder and saw Eric close behind.
How could she talk when her emotions were in turmoil? She needed time to understand why his touch, his glances, his kisses made her spin out of control. He wanted her. So had Chuck. All she’d gained from her marriage was a ton of guilt and anger at herself. Before long, Eric would walk away. There was something about her that attracted and repelled.
“I didn’t date you on his orders.” Eric grabbed her arm.
She shook free. “I can’t talk now.” Her eyes widened.
A gray-haired woman at the other end of the buffet had dropped her plate. The woman’s hand flew to her throat.
With long strides, Jenessa rushed past Eric and reached the woman. “Are you all right?”
The woman’s face reddened. She tried to cough, but no sound emerged. Jenessa moved behind the woman and prepared to perform the Heimlich maneuver. Before Jenessa could act, the woman slumped forward. Eric caught her and lowered her to the floor.
Together, they worked to clear the woman’s airway. They performed several repetitions of the rescue response before being rewarded by a deep sigh. They looked at each other.
“We’re a great team,” he said.
His gaze held her captive. “Maybe.” She regretted the only answer she could give him. Until she believed she wouldn’t drive him away the way she had her husband, she couldn’t dream. She swallowed and turned to the woman. “Are you all right?”
“I am now.” The woman struggled to sit up. “Thanks.”
While Eric helped the woman to her feet, Jenessa threaded her way through the crowd that had gathered. “Excuse me...Pardon me...Sorry...” Her chest ached. Tears formed. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and gulped a breath. She wouldn’t cry.
Megan’s table was deserted. Jenessa grabbed her denim jacket and headed for the door. Sandra strode toward her.
At the entrance to the restaurant, the dark-haired woman stopped. The anger in her eyes caught Jenessa by surprise.
“Don’t think you’ve won.” Sandra spat the words. “Maybe you swayed the committee this time, but with the right incentives, they’ll switch again.”
Before Jenessa could respond, Sandra swept into the main room. What was she talking about? Jenessa wondered. The majority of the committee had agreed. Even Nan who was the most militant of the group. And Nan had good reason to be upset. Though she had the credentials and the experience, when the nurse manager’s slot on obstetrics had opened, Sandra had given the position to a more easily controlled woman. What could Sandra offer, Dru, Megan or Simone?
Jenessa pushed the outer door open. Clouds covered the moon and the stars. The air held the scent of approaching rain. She strode across the parking lot. Light from lamps along the perimeter lit her way. She reached her car and stopped.
So much for a quick escape. The right rear tire was flat. She glanced toward the restaurant door. Any minute Eric might emerge and demand they talk.
She opened the trunk and reached for the jack. Then she remembered. The spare was in place and flat. The other tire stood against the wall of the cottage car port. So much had happened over Labor Day weekend that she’d forgotten to take the tire to the garage.
With a groan, she slammed the trunk. She leaned against the car and considered her options. She could return to the Cove and ride home with Megan. The only payment would be a full accounting of the scene with Bishop and Eric. And if she went inside, she might have to face Bishop and Sandra, not to mention Eric.
She headed for the bank of phones beside the entrance to the Cove and dialed the automobile club. After explaining the problem, she asked how long she’d have to wait.
“An hour? Why?” The explanation ended just as the operator asked for more money. An hour, she thought. She returned to the car and slumped in the seat.
*****
“Let her go.” The massive bulk of the Board president blocked Eric’s path.
Eric glared. The gloating expression on the older man’s face brought an urge to strike the man. Eric wanted to follow Jenessa and convince her he hadn’t been following an order.
“Just what were you getting at?” Eric asked. �
��I resent your inferences.”
Bishop’s smile broadened. “Shame she reacted instead of thinking. The time for romance was when you arrived.”
“That’s not my style.”
“Then you’re not going to get anywhere in business.”
Eric smiled. “But I’m not in business. I’m in health care.”
“Anyone who doesn’t see the money to be made in this business is a fool. Maybe that’s why you got your job. There’s no way to stop progress.”
“What progress? You’re pushing to disrupt the hospital. Jenessa agrees.”
“Does she now, my boy?” Bishop laughed. “She’s working just as hard from her end to upset things. How did you feel when you heard about the strike vote? Going to be a big blotch on your record.”
“Are you sure that’s what they decided?”
“What options do they have? They’re just a bitty scratch team trying to play in the big leagues.”
“You might be surprised. Why don’t you push the Board to cooperate?”
“I got you hired and I can get you fired. Think of the big picture.”
Eric jammed his hands in his pockets. Whose big picture? he wanted to ask. The one he saw had gaping holes that he’d better fill in quickly.
First, he had to see Jenessa. He wanted her. Maybe he even needed her. This thought halted him. He wasn’t sure he trusted the emotions churning inside. Was what he felt for her based on more than desire?
Sandra brushed past Eric and grabbed Bishop’s arm. She pulled him toward the stage. Though Eric couldn’t hear what she said, her every gesture showed agitation. He frowned. What was going on? Whatever had upset her had troubled Bishop, too.
He edged closer to the pair and hoped he might catch a bit of their conversation.
“What?” Bishop said. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. You’d better fix things and plan better next time.”
“I can’t be there twenty-four hours a day.”
“In the future --”
The quintet ended the set. Eric backed away and mingled with the dancers. He wished he’d heard more since that might have filled another information gap.
On Opposite Sides Page 7
