Page 12 of Mountain Freedom
I couldn’t believe I was now working with her. Worse, I was in a position of authority over her. She would never forgive me for it.
“Sorry to hear that,” Dr. Stone said smoothly. “I’m afraid you have a little work ahead of you to win everyone over. May I be frank?” She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk, making a triangle with her arms as she tapped her fingertips together.
“Of course. I hope you will be.”
She leaned her head back and tapped her fingertips together three more times before speaking, clearly weighing her words. “This position’s been vacant for awhile,” she finally said, sighing. “As I’m sure you know, this clinic used to belong to Doc Rogers. When he retired, he sold the practice to the hospital. We’ve keptit open by having a rotation of doctors take shifts here, hoping one of them would want to make it their own. None of them wanted to, unfortunately.”
“Why not?” I asked, curious. “It seems like this would be an excellent opportunity for someone who wanted to leave behind hospital schedules to work regular hours, maybe start a family. I’m honestly surprised the position wasn’t snatched up immediately.”
She removed her arms from my desk, draping them gracefully over her legs, and nodded. “You and me both. Doc Rogers was incredibly popular and beloved by his patients, and I think that contributed to it being a difficult role to fill. His patients were—are—loyal, and they still haven’t adjusted to him being gone.”
“Doctors retire,” I said, shrugging. “It happens. It can be hard, sure, but the patients will accept it eventually.”
She nodded, and I got the feeling she hadn’t told me the entire story.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Well, to be honest with you,” she said, giving me a tired look, “he didn’t just retire. He left due to some legal trouble. That’s a complicated story,” she said, waving it off, “but part of it involved handing out narcotics like they were candy.”
“Gotcha,” I said, nodding. “And patients are unhappy because they lost their supplier?”
“I think that’s part of it,” she confirmed. “When I’ve spoken with some of the people who have filled in here, they’ve mentioned that the patient population was more frustrating than they expected. I think the narcotics issue is part of what you’ll be facing.”
“Okay,” I said. “That’s something I’ll keep in mind.”
“Also,” she said, avoiding my eyes, “the clinic is a mess. It’s currently running in the red by a significant margin.” She turnedher gaze back to me, an unreadable look on her face. “The clinic needs someone to turn it around, and that’s where you come in. One of our highly respected hospital physicians saw your CV, printed it out, and put it on my desk, telling me you were the one for the job.”
I cocked my head. “Really? Who on earth?”
“Dr. Johnson,” she said, smiling.
It took me a minute to place the name with a childhood memory of an emergency room doctor who had set my arm when I had broken it at age eleven. I remembered talking excitedly to him about how I wanted to be a doctor someday too and how impressed he was—or pretended to be—that I never looked away while he set my arm.
“Dr. Johnson is still here?” I asked. “Wow. That brings back some memories. He was very kind to me when I was a kid.”
She nodded. “Yes, he told me he knew you as a child and that you were bright, friendly, hardworking, and determined to be a doctor from a young age. He has friends at the hospital where you did residency and has apparently kept up with your progress from a distance. He has a lot of pull at the hospital, you understand. When he picked you, that sealed the deal.”
“I’ll have to thank him,” I said, remembering the handsome doctor who had seemed like a superhero to me. His confidence had made me brave despite the pain, and he had kept me so distracted with conversation that the whole episode had felt positive. I was touched that he remembered and vouched for me. So often, getting a good job in healthcare seemed to require those personal connections—connections I didn’t have in Memphis.
“He’ll be glad to see you,” she said. “But…”
“Uh oh,” I said, bracing myself. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Well,” she said, shrugging. “I told you I would be frank. I’ve only been here in Rosemary Mountain for a couple of years andwas unaware at the time of calling you that there were people in town who seemed to, well, think poorly of your family.”
My face immediately went flat. It had been so many years. This could not still be an issue. Could it?
“I’m not my father,” I said carefully. “I haven’t even seen him since I was thirteen. He didn’t raise me. My reputation stands for itself.”
She raised her hands in defense. “I’m not here to get in the middle of it. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about who your parents were if you can turn this clinic around and make it profitable again. The town needs a good family doctor. Without one, too many people are just using the emergency room instead. That’s cost prohibitive and ties our ER docs up with things that should be handled by a primary care physician. There’s also some federal funding at stake—some big money available if you help us put the right programs into place here. So we need you, but we also need you to put this clinic back in the black. If you’re not capable of that, this isn’t going to work.”
“I understand,” I said, setting my mouth in a firm line.
“I hope you do,” she said gently. “I’m not sure what it’s going to take for you to convince people to give you a shot. A lot of the townsfolk seem pretty set in their ways. Including your receptionist, Beverly.”
“Then maybe I need a different receptionist,” I suggested.
She shook her head. “Firing someone on your first day isn’t going to help you make friends here, Dr. Bell. Beverly has worked at this clinic for twelve years. Win her over. Win them all over. You’re going to have to.”
