Winners

by Danielle Steel

  “Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she said when he dropped her at the hotel. “I had a terrific time. I haven’t had a night like this in years, just talking and relaxing with friends.”

  “I felt that way too. It’s a nice break from everything else,” he assured her.

  “Yes, it is. What time do you want me at the house tomorrow?” They were going to go through all the CVs he had of therapists and doctors for the center. He trusted her judgment about them more than his own.

  “Is ten o’clock too early?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I’ll get some work done that way, and then we can go over all the résumés I’ve been collecting.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” She smiled at him. “See you at ten.” She got out of the car and waved as he drove away. It had been a perfect evening.

  Jessie woke at six the next day, as she did every day, and went back to sleep, which was a great luxury. She hadn’t been able to do that since Tim died. She got up at nine then, ordered breakfast, and dressed. And shortly before ten she took a cab to Bill’s house. And they spent three hours reviewing all the CVs. And at the end of it, she had four people to interview by phone for him. They were all over the country, and only one of them was from Denver, and used to work at Craig.

  They had lunch in his kitchen, went back to look at the property again, just to check out some details, and then they went to visit Lily. But she was always so busy, she barely had time to see them. And an hour later they left when she went to driver’s ed.

  “I suppose I have to let her drive too,” Bill said ruefully as he drove Jessie back to the hotel. It was late afternoon, and had been a very productive day.

  “That’s up to you,” Jessie said with a quiet smile. “I’m all for her going to college wherever she wants. Driving is another thing. I’m sensitive on the subject. I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do.”

  “I’ve been thinking of buying her a car. But I haven’t decided yet. If I had my way, I’d keep her in her room.” But Jessie knew that wasn’t true. It was just hard to tempt the fates again after they’d been so cruel. She felt the same way about her own kids, after the accident cases she saw every day, and particularly now after Tim died. She knew she’d never have the same faith in life again, nor would Bill. He had seen his daughter off to the ski slopes for an ordinary day of skiing, and she had come home a paraplegic. That was tough to live with, and get over the trauma, not just for Lily, but for Bill too. She had the same feelings herself. Tim had taken Jimmy bowling for her and been killed. It was the unreliability of life. Destiny at its worst. “Can I talk you into having dinner with me again tonight, or is that more than you can stand?” he asked her with a grin as they got to the hotel. She enjoyed his company, and two evenings in a row didn’t seem like too much to her. And they had a lot to talk about, about his project.

  “I’d love it.”

  “Great. Let’s make it seven-thirty. I know you have an early flight tomorrow.” She did, and was grateful for the early night.

  This time he took her to a great steakhouse. It was lively and rowdy, full of young people and old cowboys. It was an easy place to relax and have an old-fashioned steak dinner. He said he came there often, and Lily had loved it as a kid.

  They talked about The Lily Pad again and the four candidates they’d pulled out of the stack of résumés that morning. And then, somehow, Jessie got him talking about his youth in a mining town, the extreme poverty of it, the miners dying, including his own father and brother, and how he had fled to the big city to make his fortune and had done well. She could sense that he’d been a risk taker from the beginning, a little bit like Lily. Her downhill racing, even before her injury, had not been without risk, and she loved it, and was passionate about it. They both marveled at how easily he could have given up his dreams and become a miner and had an entirely different life.

  “I’d probably be dead by now, if I had,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “What a loss to the world that would have been,” Jessie said sincerely. “Look at all the good you’re doing now.” She wasn’t unaware of it, and admired him immensely. In many ways, he was a brave man, even about facing his daughter’s injury, once he knew she would never walk again. He had turned it into a blessing for others, or was about to. He lacked polish once in a while, and he could be tough, as when he’d been so angry at her in the beginning, but he never lacked courage. And she understood why he’d been angry. He was a lion defending his cub, which she considered a quality, not a fault.

  They talked nonstop all through dinner, and then he took her back to the hotel, thanked her for coming to Denver, and wished her a safe trip home. He got out of the car to say goodbye to her, and she felt him slip something into the pocket of her jacket. She didn’t say anything, and then looked at it when she got to her room. It was an envelope with her name on it, and there was a check and a note. It said, “Jessie, thank you for coming. I couldn’t do this without your help. I know you don’t want this—use it for your kids. Love, Bill and Lily.” He was a kind-hearted man, and the check was what any surgeon would have charged him for consultation. It wasn’t over the top, but it was generous, and she was touched. She sent him an e-mail from her laptop before she went to bed, and thanked him. She said her kids would appreciate it, and in fact, it would help her a lot. It had been a very productive trip. And she had loved hearing what he’d told her about his youth. He was a remarkable man. The coal miner’s son who had made a fortune, and used it well. And he was a great father, and a good friend. She was glad she had come.

  And on Monday morning, she told Ben all about her time in Denver, what Bill was doing, what the place looked like physically, and the different programs he had in mind.

  “It’s going to be fantastic,” she told him.

  “So are you taking the job as medical director?” Ben asked her with interest. He had wondered if Bill would talk her into it while she was there, but she shook her head.

  “I can’t. You know that. And what would you do without me?” she teased him, and he looked unhappy for her.

  “I still think you should. You’re missing a real opportunity, Jess.”

  “Sometimes you have to do that for your kids,” she said philosophically. “It wouldn’t be fair to uproot them, not after losing Tim.”

  “It’s not fair for you to lose this job,” Ben said stubbornly, wishing he could convince her.

  “Stop trying to get rid of me. This is where I belong, not Denver.”

  “You deserve another shot at life, and an exciting job. It depresses me every time I stop by your house. All you feel there is Tim’s absence. That can’t be good for your kids either.”

  “Leaving would be worse. Trust me. I know,” Jessie said firmly, and walked into an examining room to see her first patient. And Ben left for the hospital to see the woman with the broken hip he’d operated on that weekend. He felt sorry for Jessie, and all that she’d been through. But one thing was for sure, she was one stubborn woman. He realized now that whatever he did or said, nothing would make her take the job in Denver. She was determined to stay in the house and life she’d shared with Tim.

  Chapter 18

  THEIR PROBLEMS WITH the planning commission seemed to go on interminably while Joe patiently battled with them, begged, pleaded, massaged, cajoled, reasoned, and charmed. The location of their property was not zoned for a medical facility, and the commission flatly refused to give them the permits they needed. Joe finally took the head of the commission to lunch one day and explained the situation to him, what they were trying to do, and how many kids and young people it would help.

  “Think of it this way, the property was zoned as a spa originally. And what we’re doing really won’t be very different. People staying there for a few weeks or months, taking it easy, swimming, getting massage therapy, relaxing, doing some sports. We’re not going to have an acute medical facility. You could almost call it a spa for kids.” Joe would have
called it damn near anything to convince him. The head of the planning commission looked at him in disbelief and started to laugh.

  “You’re a liar, Joe Henry,” he accused him. “But after all that, your ten thousand phone calls, the kids you want to help, and a very decent lunch, I give up. You can have your zoning, and your permits. You deserve them.” And with that, still laughing, he patted Joe on the shoulder and left.

  Joe called Bill on his cell phone immediately and told him the good news.

  “You’re a genius and I love you,” Bill told him. “I don’t know what you did, but I guess you just wore him down. Thank God,” Bill said, and hung up. It was so typical of Joe to make it happen. He always did. He had an incredible way with people, and never gave up, for the right cause. He just radiated goodness and truth. Bill had been talking to Jessie on the other line when Joe called and she was telling him about the interviews she’d conducted. She hadn’t liked two of them, but thought he should hire the other two, an administrative assistant who had worked in a similar facility in another state, and a physical therapist who had fantastic recommendations and credentials, and sounded great on the phone. And both of them were willing to wait until later in the year to come to work, and move to Denver for the job.

  “That was Joe on the other line, by the way,” he told her afterward. “We got our zoning and permits. He pulled it off. Mr. Magic.” Things were starting to move.

  The following day Joe had an appointment with some of the administrators at Craig. He explained to them what they were trying to do. He suggested an exchange of programs, so that some of the patients at Craig could use their facilities, and they could send some of theirs for classes and programs at Craig. It took the sting of competition out of it and made them collaborative, and the people at Craig liked the idea. Bill was thrilled about that too.

  And the following weekend Carole came back to consult with them again. Jessie had brought up a whole list of questions and issues that she had sent to Bill by e-mail, and suggested he raise with Carole, mostly about treatment plans, psychotherapists, and the number of therapists Carole felt they should have on staff, in addition to counselors and peer counselors, and how they should run their groups. There were a million details to think of, and Bill was learning more than he had ever thought possible about running a rehab facility. And now that they had their permits, construction was already under way, and Steve Jansen was on the premises every day.

  Carole was amazed at the buzz of activity when she came back to Denver. Even though it was Saturday, there were a number of workers there, hammering away. They were working on altering all the bathrooms, which had to be handicap facilities according to code.

  “You guys certainly haven’t let the grass grow under your feet,” she said to Bill and Joe. There had already been changes since she’d last been there.

  And Bill had a whole new stack of résumés for her and Jessie to look at, but still no prospects for medical director, and Bill was worried about that. He wanted a neurosurgeon for the job. It would give them credibility, and he felt it was the appropriate protocol for the position. But so far no one who fit the profile he wanted had turned up.

  And Joe was telling Carole what he’d gone through with the planning commission as they walked around the grounds. It was a beautiful spring day.

  “You’re looking very well,” he said to her, as they sat down for a few minutes in the garden and took a break. There was still a bench there, left over from when it had been a spa.

  “Thank you. I’m feeling well.” She smiled at him. “A lot better than I was last year at this time.” She’d been in the thick of it with her treatment then, and every day had been a challenge and hard to face.

  “I don’t know how you got through it,” he said with a look of admiration.

  “You just do. Like Jessie with what she’s going through now. I think they’re all miserable without Tim. It will get better, but it takes a long time. It was bad enough getting divorced.”

  “It was for me too. And what Karen did was such a crazy thing for her to do. I think she went a little nuts when the kids left. Or maybe she always was. I don’t think we’d really talked to each other for years.”

  “We did, but Dylan lied to me. He’s not a very noble guy. I made a mistake, embarrassing as that is to admit. I thought I was married to someone, and I was actually married to someone else. And the someone else was not a nice person.” She wasn’t sorry for herself—it was a statement of fact.

  “Have you been out with anyone since the divorce?”

  “No.” She smiled at him. “I was too busy surviving.”

  “But you’re well now,” he said, drawing the obvious conclusion that she should be dating, but it was more complicated than that for her.

  “I’m not dating,” she said simply, “and I don’t want to,” she added, just to make it clear. “I don’t know if I ever will again. A lot happened last year. Internally and externally, physically and mentally What’s left of me doesn’t want to date.” She couldn’t make it simpler than that. She didn’t think he was asking her out, and she considered him a friend. Like Jessie with Bill. They had known each other through painful events, and now they were friends. Carole didn’t know Joe as well, and she suspected he had seen hard times too. He had enormous compassion for the suffering of others, which often came from having suffered oneself. But he was starting a new life in Denver, and opening his eyes to life again. Carole’s eyes were open, but she wasn’t looking for a man. She was content on her own.

  “You’re too young to make a decision like that,” Joe said quietly.

  “No, I’m not, I’m thirty-eight years old. I’ve been married. It wasn’t a success. I can’t have kids. I have no reason to date.” It was obviously a carefully thought-out decision. “Men my age want children, unless they’re divorced and already have them, and then they’re either a mess, or want more kids. Either way they’re not for me.”

  “Not all men who are divorced are a mess,” he said reasonably.

  “True, but a lot of them are, usually the ones I meet. The choice I’ve made works for me. I’d have to address some issues and change some things if I wanted to be involved again. I don’t.” She didn’t explain it, but she felt that in order to have a man in her life again, physically, she would want to have reconstructive surgery because of the double mastectomy, and she didn’t want to go through surgery again. She’d had two major surgeries in the past year. And she didn’t want anyone seeing her body the way it was now. It was a personal choice, but it was the way she felt about it. But it was too intimate to say to him. “Trust me, I’m happy this way.” She seemed comfortable with her decision not to date.

  “It’s a terrible waste,” he said sadly.

  “No, it’s not.” She smiled at him. “I’m alive. That’s enough. For now anyway. If I ever change my mind and want more than that, I’ll deal with it.” She sounded very matter-of-fact about the choices she’d made, and clearly she had made her peace with it. It worked for her. “What about you? Are you dating, Joe?” She was curious about him too. He was an intelligent, handsome man, and still young enough to share a lot of years with someone. Twenty-five years maybe, or more if he was lucky. It was a long time to spend alone, if he didn’t want to. Carole had even more years ahead, if she stayed healthy, but she had no desire to share them with anyone intimately.

  “I just moved to Denver and got an apartment. I’m settling in. I don’t know a lot of people here yet,” he said simply. “I like it here, though. It’s a nice city. I was tired of New York.”

  “I get tired of Boston sometimes, especially in the winter,” she admitted, “but I love my job. That makes a big difference. I liked California when we lived there. I want to travel more now,” she shared with him. “I’m thinking about going to Europe this summer. I don’t want to put things off anymore. I did that for a long time. Last year I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to do when I got better. I want to do them all now.�
�� She smiled at him and suddenly looked very young.

  “I put things off too. That’s the trouble with working too hard.”

  “Be careful you don’t do that again,” she said wisely. “The Lily Pad will eat us all up, if we let it. But it’s going to be fantastic.” She looked excited when she spoke about it, and then she smiled at him and stood up. “Speaking of which, enough true confessions. We’d better get back to work.” She was making diagrams of treatment rooms for Bill, so he could show the architect what they needed. Joe was busy on the phone as usual, making contacts that they needed in the medical and local community. Bill knew he was the best PR representative they could have. And at the end of the day, Joe drove Carole back to her hotel.

  “Would you like to have dinner tonight?” he asked her casually before she got out of his car. She turned and looked at him with a slow smile. Now that he knew her philosophy about dating, she felt comfortable with him. They could be friends. “I’d like that very much.”

  He took her to a good fish restaurant that night, and they had lobster. It had been flown in from Maine and it was delicious. They talked about work, and school, her job at Stanford, the embezzlement that had closed his business, and his partner going to prison. They learned a lot about each other, and then he took her back to the hotel, and she thanked him for dinner. She was leaving in the morning, and he was sorry to see her go. She was easy to talk to, and she had no agenda. She put her cards on the table, and she didn’t play games. He found it refreshing. She seemed like a very sane, well-balanced person. Not wanting to be involved made her open and honest about everything. She had nothing to hide. He regretted that she wasn’t older and didn’t live in Denver. He was twenty years older than she was, and sometimes he felt very old with her. He had seen so much more of life. But so had she, for a young woman, and she was wise beyond her years. It had come at a high price.