“Nonsense. Our philosophies are as far apart at the north and south poles.”
“That day we were in the Peppermill with Ken, I thought Patrick was going to bust a blood vessel right in front of the table when he saw the two of you together.”
“He introduced us. Why would he care?”
“Whatever happened between you and Ken? He's a pretty good catch. He has money, looks, and he's on the prowl. Plus, he's not a negotiator.”
“Nothing. I'm not interested in getting involved with anyone right now.”
“His loss.” Teal flicked the ashes from her cigarette. “You know if anything was going on between you and Patrick, and word leaked out at the hospital, all hell would break loose.” Her tone suddenly turned into a threat. “You really live dangerously, kiddo.”
Dana rose from her chair. “Let's go inside.”
She put out her cigarette and followed. “I don't know why you just can't be honest with me. Hell, I'm your friend. Don't you want to share things with someone?”
Inside, Teal took her same seat on the couch, curling her legs beneath her.
“Can I get you anything?” Dana asked.
“Yeah, I'll have some of that cake on the table.”
“How do you stay thin and eat sweets?”
Teal licked her glossy lips. “Some things you just take in small doses. Know what I mean?” She winked again.
They moved to the dining room. Dana brought plates from the cupboard.
She told Teal how her car had broken down and what had happened when Patrick met Michael, and about the horses. Teal ate her cake and listened to the story without a single interruption, knowing Dana left out the best parts. She laid down her fork. “Well, I didn't know the old boy had it in him. But, my dear, if that's all you’re willing to tell then I'll just have to accept your story at face value.” She licked a small glob of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. “It doesn't matter to me who you hang out with. It's a good thing it was me who dropped in on you, though, and not someone less discreet.”
“If it hadn't been for Michael, he'd never have been here.” Knowing she didn’t have much time, Teal pulled out all the stops.
Joel had told her to plant seeds of doubt. Go for it. “I hate to tell you this, Dana, but that handsome devil's been bragging around about you. Telling the gang he's getting his contract one way or another.” She took another large bite from her cake. “Know what I mean?”
“No, what do you mean?”
“I'm just trying to fit the pieces together. He mentioned he'd been getting to know you better…you know?”
“I don't believe you.”
“Believe me.”
Dana's face contorted.
“They're all alike, honey. I should know and so should you. How many is it going to take before you wise up and get with the program?” She paused, waiting to drop another bomb on Dana. “It surprises me that you’d be interested in a man who thinks nothing of leaving his little girl in New York for a stupid job. Tells me a whole lot about him. Should tell you a few things, too, unless you’re purposely being blind.”
Shock registered on Dana’s face. Appearing defeated, she slumped back in her chair.
Teal wriggled around in her seat, watching Dana struggle with her feelings for Patrick. Seemed she came up with the right bait. “Well, how about that weekend at the coast?”
That bugger had been balling Dana and she knew it. Somehow, some way, she must get Dana to the coast. Had these little gems been enough to trigger a commitment out of her? What a perfect place to position herself for a crack at Templeton and have plenty of time to find out what she needed to know for Joel.
She rose, pulled Dana up by both arms, and gazed into her eyes. “We go back a long way. Let's have some fun together. You need it.”
Dana's eyes filled with sadness. This baby was hurting. Teal had a flash of guilt. She pulled her to her breast and held her. “Everything’s going to be fine. Please, come with me to Cayucos. It'll be just like the good old days.” She drew back. “Remember how much fun we had at our little jammy parties? We'd talk about all the guys, rip our girlfriends apart, eat wonderful junk food and then sleep in crumbs all night.”
A wistful smile crossed Dana’s lips. “Let me think about it. I’m pushed right now…”
“Do ya good to get away for a few days. Be good for Michael too. He'd love the beach. Won't cost anything. I'm bringing the food and a jug of vino. Come on, Dana. Say you'll go.”
“When is the latest I can let you know?”
Teal could hardly contain herself at the thought of Dana weakening. “Friday. If you don't go with me, I'm going alone. I need to get away and sort out my life. Things aren't too good for me either.”
“Why?”
“You have enough on your mind. Let's save that conversation for the coast.” Teal held out her hands and smiled. “Oh hell, give me a hug.”
Dana embraced her. “I'll let you know by Wednesday if I can get away for the weekend.”
* * *
Now that Dana thought about it, Patrick didn’t talk much about his daughter. She heard him fight for visitation, but not about being near her when she needed him.
Could Teal be right? Had she been blind? Had Patrick been using her? He seemed so sincere, so caring with Michael. This just couldn't be. That wasn't Patrick's style. Or was it? Had another man duped her again? The more Dana thought about it, the better the coast sounded.
She needed a friend like Teal right now and a little of Teal's fire under her.
Teal hadn't been gone ten minutes when the phone rang. Patrick, she just knew it.
“Look, Dana. We've got to talk.”
Yeah, they had to talk all right. So, he thought if he pleased her in bed and helped her son, she'd cave right in and give him his contract. Well, she had an enormous surprise for him. Why had he put his job in front of his daughter?
“You know, I think we've been moving too fast.” Only silence filtered through the phone lines.
“I'm coming over.”
“No,” she shouted. “Sorry, I didn't mean to yell, but now isn’t a good time.”
“It's the only time.”
She switched the phone to her other ear, gulping over the painful lump in her throat. “I'm so confused right now. I have so much to sort out. I need time.”
Following a long drawn out pause and crackling on the line, he said in a low, deliberate tone, “You can have all the time you need.”
He had cooled. Oh, how he’d cooled. She shook her head and smiled to herself. What a fool she’d been. “See you at negotiations.” The phone clicked in her ear.
If Dana had been on a bender the night before, she couldn't have looked worse than she did that morning. Before her dressing table mirror, she applied a concealer underneath her eyes. It didn't do any good. “You look a mess.” She took a long, hard look at herself. “You blew it, baby.” Talk about a man being led around by his penis. Women can be just as bad.
She got up from her chair and went to the kitchen to refill her coffee. The cake box still sat on the table, and the Jenga game lay piled in the corner. The emptiness in her chest she wrestled with all night overtook her once again. How could he have used her? He'd pay. Big time! They were adversaries, then and now, and she must never forget it.
Rising, she smoothed her red linen dress down over her hips and turned for a last-minute check. Satisfied with how she appeared, she snapped off the light and called for Michael.
On her way to the day care center, Michael stared out the window. A light rain began to fall. The baking hot sun retreated and winter would be approaching.
Facing her, Michael asked, “Man come over?”
“You mean Patrick?”
“Pat--”
“Say it, honey. Pat…rick!”
Michael tilted his head, thinned his lips, and stuttered, “Pa…trick.”
“You said it. You're doing so well. Mom’s proud of you.” She didn't have the
heart to tell him Patrick might never be coming over again. “He’s very busy with work right now.” She just wanted Michael to understand enough to buy her some time.
He returned his bewildered gaze to the sunbaked rolling hills. She held her breath, waiting for a negative response.
None came.
How much of an impact would Patrick's absence have on Michael? Would he continue using as many words as he had when Patrick came by, or would he flip back into his shell like when she and Joel separated? She took a chance when she encouraged Patrick to visit.
At the old mansion, Michael slid out, shut the door, and shuffled up the sidewalk by himself. Dana remained in the car with the motor running until she saw him safely inside.
Forty minutes later at the door to the main negotiating room, her heart slammed against her chest. What would she feel when she looked into Patrick's eyes? Would she panic, or would she be able to pretend nothing happened between them and act professional? Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, she flung open the door. Patrick sat alone in his usual seat reading Newsweek, his chair tilted back. “Where is everybody?”
“I sent my folks back to work. Yours are next door waiting for you.”
“What's going on?”
“You haven't budged for the past two weeks. I can’t find a reason to keep people off their jobs if we aren't going to negotiate.”
His eyes were cool, calculating. She could see him at the Peppermill, sitting around with his cronies, laughing and bragging how he’d laid the chief negotiator from Templeton. That and after a few more good turns in bed, voila, a contract in his hot hands.
“Look, lady. We have a job to do here. If we can't get a contract together, I suggest we get a mediator to do it.”
She hated his tone. “Fine. Have anyone in mind?” Had Teal been right?
“I thought we could go over the list together and see who's available. Maybe then we can put this puppy to bed and I can move on to New York.”
If he wanted to play hardball, so be it. “You pick him.” She turned and headed for the door.
“Don't you want to discuss where to meet?”
“You decide. Just make it soon.” She turned to him. “You do remember I have a court date?”
“Of course. Just as I have a New York date.”
Her hands shook. No mediator could get him a contract with any more than she had already offered. If he thought a mediator was his ticket to New York, he’d rot in Ashton. Serves him right.
“Why don't we change turf and meet at the Ramada Inn.” His voice softened. “It's closer for you to pick up Michael.”
“Fine.”
“When is your court da--?”
Before he finished his sentence, she left the room. Next door, she dismissed her team. What an exasperating man. She made her way down to her car in the underground garage. Why did he ask about her court date? As if he cared. She slammed her palm against the steering wheel and turned the key. The engine roared to life.
Patrick strolled up to her car and signaled her to roll down the window. In a low and husky voice he said, “I care for you and Michael. I have the same feelings for you as you do for me.” He touched her arm. “It's in your eyes.” He blew air through his tightened lips. “There's just too much at stake.”
What made this insufferable man tick? She knew from the beginning she made a mistake getting involved with him. She revved the engine and backed away before she started crying and made a fool of herself.
On the way back to the hospital, she felt as crushed as she had the day Joel issued his ultimatum ending their marriage. Like then, she knew she must take control of her life. The most important thing she had to do; get a contract for Templeton.
Raindrops the size of dimes slid down the windshield. Not only had she lost someone extremely influential in her life, but now she also faced mediation. Someone from the outside had to come in and close a contract for her, which meant she hadn’t done her job. Gil and the board had probably already lost faith in her ability to close the deal.
Mediation meant long nights, sitting in a room with the mediator running back and forth trying to persuade each of them to give enough to settle the issues. She ran a red light, cursed herself, and pushed ahead. Mediation meant Michael staying long hours with Ruta Morse, even overnight when Dana worked too late--or was too dog-tired to pick him up. A strike meant relocating patients to other hospitals, and emergency services at Templeton shut down. Critical care units would operate at minimum occupancy. The entire medical community stood by to help until they resolved this dispute. The impact could be devastating. It wouldn’t surprise her if Patrick and his team went to the media and turned this into a three-ring circus. When the county hospital went on strike, it had been disastrous.
Gil stood behind his desk with his arms folded across his chest when she arrived. “Mediation?” It was as if he were expecting it.
She nodded and sat in front of his desk. “Unless we give something, they're going to walk.”
“They can strike then. We're not moving an inch.”
“I need some coffee.” She rose from her seat.
“You look like you need a drink. Sit.” Gil buzzed his secretary and asked for two black coffees. “Are we ready for a strike?”
“I'd better start reworking the strike plan. It looked good when I reviewed it last. I'll arrange for traveling nurses and temp staff to cover for the sympathizers.”
Gil's plump and serious young secretary hustled into the office with two mugs of steaming coffee, then left.
“You know the salaries we pay are about one percent below the average.”
He leaned forward in his chair, his index fingers tented under his chin. “We're higher than some and lower than others. I don't care about averages.”
“A strike will cost more than a small raise.”
Gil sprang up. “What are you saying? Give in to them? I told you that we weren't giving any more. We're holding our ground.” He paced his office. “You already gave a lot with that flex-shift program of yours. The board wasn't thrilled with that one. I know firsthand the other hospitals in the area aren’t giving raises. This is a tough economy.”
“Where’s the give and take here? I understood closed shop was the most important issue.”
“I thought you Bay Area kids knew how to handle the Patrick Mitchells of the world.”
“We do. You can't go in and expect the employees to accept nothing when we have a hospital bursting at the seams with patients. They don't buy into our budget problems, or the new wing.”
Gil returned to his desk. “You sound like Benson.” He averted his gaze. “I'll approve which mediator we use.”
Her heart sank. “Fine.” He had censured her, and he talked to her like a stranger. One would never guess they’d been friends for over fifteen years. Her job status in Ashton began to crumble.
In stunned silence, she sipped her coffee, waiting for the caffeine to kick in and give her a much-needed boost. Then she rose, picking up her purse and briefcase. “Of course, you know the mediators in this area better than I.” She made her way to the door, stopped, white-knuckled the knob and spoke without facing him. “I'll review everything and see if I've overlooked something that might pull us out of this.”
That evening she called Teal. “If your offer is still good for the weekend, Michael and I would love to go to Cayucos with you.”
Twelve
From the bay window, Dana watched the Pacific Ocean, a never-ending sheet of silvery silk, flickering with tremulous light. Not a cloud darkened the azure sky, nor a ripple of wind marred the serenity of this sanctuary she had chosen to retreat from her turbulent life. How glad she was she came to Cayucos with Teal this weekend. No negotiating. No Patrick Mitchell. No depressing apartment. Instead, fresh, clean salt air, cool, grainy sand and sleeping to the crashing waves.
Michael tugged at her skirt. “Beach, Mom.”
She glanced down and ruffled his hair. “Wanna play bal
l?”
“Ball.”
Dana picked up the orange-and-white-checked plastic ball from the floor and tossed it to Michael, striking him lightly in the stomach. He fell backwards, laughing until tears sprang up in his eyes. He hadn’t laughed like that since Patrick had played Jenga with him on her living room floor. Mixed emotions tumbled through her.
The afternoon sped by. As the sun descended, Dana felt at peace with herself. By Monday, she’d be ready to take on Patrick, Gil and at long last, her mother, who returned home from her cruise and anyone else who got in her way. She’d even demand a few days off to take care of her business in the San Jose courts with Joel. A break in negotiations might be beneficial for everyone.
Following a barbecue out on the patio, she went inside. The evening air had cooled. She slid the glass door shut and built a fire while Teal straightened up the kitchen. Michael went to bed, exhausted after a full day of playing on the beach. She could kick back and enjoy a relaxing evening with an old friend.
With the fire roaring, she sat on the thick shag carpeting and listened to the waves slamming against the rocks farther down the beach. The fire warmed the chilled room. She leaned back against the arm of the couch and breathed deeply.
Teal startled her. “God, you look comfortable.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel. “I'll put some music on the radio.” A few spins of the dial and she stopped on a Bay Area station playing Adele. “I'll be finished in ten minutes and join you.”
Dana felt more relaxed at that moment than she had in months. Then, out of the blue, her mind swirled with thoughts of her mother, Patrick and Joel. All the negatives in her life came rushing back like a flash flood on the desert floor after a torrential downpour. Would her mother accept the fact Dana decided to keep Michael and support her in her decision? As anxious as she was to see her mother, she equally feared the moment soon to be upon her. Not to mention she’d see Joel again after all these months. She feared his reaction when she stuck it to him.
Conflicts of the Heart Page 12
