Tessa's Gift. Cerella SechristЧитать онлайн книгу.
stuffed the items into his pocket and pushed past her without another word. She watched as he stepped across the street and got into a pickup truck, which was slightly incongruous with his sophisticated demeanor. She sighed.
“Well, Rufus, we better head back home so I can change or I’m going to be late for work, too.”
Rufus belched in response.
* * *
DR. NOAH BRENNAN still wasn’t very comfortable in his office. Ever since he’d started working at Chesapeake View Children’s Hospital six months ago, he’d been unable to personalize the space. His last office had been filled with personal touches. Finger-paint drawings, framed photos, the Post-it notes that Julia had stuck onto his iPad every morning. He’d filled the room with memories and reminders. But all of those mementoes were boxed away now, collecting dust in a storage locker.
He’d never been embarrassed by the emptiness until today, when he’d walked in and found Ana Morales, the hospital’s director of development, eyeing the bare walls and desk.
Inwardly, he cursed. “Ana. I didn’t know you were waiting for me. I apologize for running behind this morning.”
It was that woman at the coffee shop with her unruly dog. He fingered the scrap of paper in his pocket where she’d scribbled her name and phone number. Tessa Worth. He had little patience for careless individuals. Carelessness was how people ended up in the emergency room—something he’d witnessed firsthand during his residency.
If it hadn’t been for Tessa Worth, he might have had time to settle into his morning routine before being faced with this unexpected visit.
Ana, fortunately, waved a hand to dismiss his apology. “You spend every waking minute at this hospital. There’s no need to apologize.”
She crossed to the desk and took a seat in front of it, tucking a strand of black hair threaded with gray, behind her ear. Her olive skin was lined with only a handful of wrinkles, and her brown eyes were astute. He fidgeted uncomfortably and avoided her gaze by stepping behind the desk and taking a seat.
Ana was the reason he was working at Chesapeake View. She’d been the hospital administrator at his previous job before becoming the director of development here. Ana knew his background, knew how he’d wanted a fresh start, so she’d recommended him to the hospital’s board. Noah’s reputation as a physician and the accolades he’d received over the years had sealed the deal for them.
But since coming to work at Chesapeake, Noah had gone out of his way to avoid Ana. She was still a reminder of his losses, and that made it difficult to be around her. She seemed to sense his dilemma and didn’t seek him out other than when necessary. The fact that she’d come looking for him today made him curious and on edge. Maybe it had something to do with the way his morning had started off with the coffee shop woman. Things tended to go downhill when his day began poorly.
But what had she said when she had offered to pay for his dry cleaning? It’s never too late to start your day over.
It sounded so much like one of Julia’s old sayings, before their lives had taken a turn for the worse, that he’d nearly flinched. The thought of his dead wife shook him. Would the ghosts he’d tried to leave behind never stop haunting him?
“What can I do for you, Ana?” he asked, trying to take his mind off his memories.
Ana straightened and gazed at him directly. Noah frowned. Whatever had brought Ana to his office, she meant business.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
It was an innocent enough question, but he knew what lay behind it. “How are you surviving?” was perhaps a more accurate way to phrase it. But he didn’t want to talk about his feelings. It was much easier and less painful to simply wall them off. If he focused on his loss, he’d never be able to do his job.
“I’m fine, thanks, Ana. How about you?”
She eyed him as he turned the question around, but thankfully, she chose not to press. After another minute of watching him, she came to the reason for her visit.
“Noah, as you know, the hospital recently brought a marketing and public relations coordinator on staff to assist me.”
Noah recalled some mention of a new coordinator, but he didn’t pay much attention to the world beyond his hospital floor. He wanted to keep his focus on what mattered most—his patients.
Ana paused, watching him carefully. “We’ve talked before about bringing more awareness to the hospital and the pediatric oncology department specifically—your department.”
Noah’s eyebrows knit together. He was fully aware that part of his duties was to help promote his department. His reputation was part of what had won him this position in the first place, and the board had told him they expected him to actively participate in all publicity campaigns. But in the last six months, he’d managed to remain uninvolved in such efforts, which was the way he wanted to keep it.
“Ana, I’ve told you before. I’m a doctor, not a public relations ploy.”
A spark of determination entered Ana’s eyes. Noah had always respected her, but now, her flinty gaze made him wonder just who would win if he was forced to go head-to-head with her.
“Dr. Brennan,” she began, and Noah tried not to flinch. He recognized that by addressing him so formally, she was making it clear she was serious. “So far I’ve tried to be sensitive to your situation.”
Noah flushed with suppressed anger. “I don’t need your pity, Ana.”
She leaned forward. “It’s not pity to give someone time and space to mourn.”
He looked away. “I don’t need time and space. I need to be free to do my work.”
Ana sighed. “Your work includes bringing attention to the hospital and its programs, along with fund-raising to support those programs. You’re one of the top pediatric oncologists in the country, and that benefits the hospital tremendously, but it’s also important to broadcast those successes.”
Noah stiffened. “My job is to save children’s lives,” he corrected.
“Which is something you do with great skill,” she returned, “but it’s not all that is expected of you. The board would like you to be more actively involved in promotional efforts.”
Noah blinked. “The board is more interested in me playing a part for the public than helping the children on this floor fight for their lives?”
Ana’s expression hardened. “Self-righteousness is not an attractive trait, Doctor, even on you.”
He didn’t reply. It wasn’t self-righteousness. He had no claim to righteousness of any kind. If a doctor couldn’t save the very patient who had mattered most, what right did he have to act blameless?
Still, he had no desire to use—and in fact, was very much against using—his skills or reputation to support a sales pitch for the hospital.
“Noah, I need you to work with this new PR coordinator. Trust me, she’s trying to help these children as much as you are. More funding will allow for better technology, updated equipment, and a host of other things that will only give the kids an edge in fighting cancer and other diseases.”
Noah clenched his jaw, chastened by her words. He’d never begrudge the children the opportunity for more resources. What he resented was the hospital trying to use him, to leverage his skills and status when both of those things were clearly overrated.
“Promise me that you’ll be nice to this coordinator.”
He raised his head. “I am always professional with staff,” he pointed out.
Ana arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t say I wanted you to be professional, I said I wanted you to be nice.”
“I