Page 122 of Clara Knows Best

“I don’t deserve it,” he reminded her. “I just finished my fellowship. Jake’s been here way longer.”

“But Jake’s a jerk,” she said cheerfully. “You’re the opposite of that.”

“Your flattery’s not suspicious at all,” he said dryly.

“If you’re going to the top, take me with you,” she begged. “Now, hurry up and go see Dr. Grisham.” She glanced at the styrofoam box from his Indian takeout. “Have a breath mint, just in case.”

“Just in case he wants to kiss me?” he asked, popping a couple of Altoids as he got to his feet.

“Just in case your breath smells like curry,” she said distractedly. “Do you have a less wrinkled white coat?”

“Not on me.”

“Darn it,” Margo muttered. “I should have—“

“There’s one on that hook over there, though.”

She scowled at him, but handed him the fresh white garment. “Don’t try to make any jokes when you’re talking to Grisham, all right? It’s not your strength.”

“There’s the Margo I know.”

“Get upstairs!” she urged.

His head swam with possibilities as he waited for the elevator and rode it up three flights. Unit chief meant longer hours, more time in the OR and a lot more responsibility, but he wasn’t afraid of that; it was his dream. It also meant more power, which didn’t sound bad, either. The chief surgeon made the final call on all the cases in his unit, all the time. There would be med students and residents following him around, eager to learn from him, and he would have the satisfaction of training them.

Then there was the pay raise and the prestige—Clara’s parents couldn’t object to her seeing a chief surgeon. Or, whatever—blonde not-Clara’s parents couldn’t object, either.

But why shouldn’t it be Clara? Far from her father’s all-seeing gaze, why shouldn’t they be together? She could have a new car and all the Louis Vuitton bags she wanted. House cleaners and a cook—maybe a nanny someday. And she’d be sleeping in his bed when he got home late at night, and when he left early the next morning.

And maybe once in a while he’d be around when she was awake.

“Jesse, thanks for coming so quickly,” Grisham greeted him.

“No problem,” he said. “I’m on my lunch. Well, dinner.”

“I’ll make it quick. I want you to take over for Pat. It’s an interim position, but the board believes you’re a better choice than Jake—you’re young, but you have the character for the job.”

“Thank you,” he said automatically.

“You’re talented, probably the best we have, you make good calls, and your first priority is the patient. You’re married to thejob, but you’re not power-hungry and even Jake speaks well of you—albeit reluctantly.”

“Thank you,” he said again, wondering why he wasn’t thrilled. The conversation couldn’t have been going better if he’d scripted it himself.

“You’d be chief for twelve months. That’ll give us time to find a permanent candidate. The board won’t approve you on a permanent basis because of your age, but that won’t surprise you. Well, you know what it entails. You’re looking at a fifteen percent raise in pay, and an additional seven vacation days per year.”

“A month,” he said in surprise. They could travel.

“Don’t want you burning out,” Grisham said, and then slapped his shoulder fondly. “Not that you’re the type. Pat is gone on the first. You can move up to his office then.”

“Can I have some time to think about it?” Jesse heard himself say.

Grisham raised his eyebrows. “Sure. Take the weekend. Come see me on Monday.”

Jesse shook his offered hand and made his way numbly back to the elevators. Was he crazy? He didn’t need a weekend to think about it! This was the job of his dreams. It was an interim position, but his foot would be in the door.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, which probably meant she’d texted him another picture of the dog. He’d look at it later, or maybe tomorrow.

Even as he had the thought, he took out his phone and swiped to view the picture message.

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