Page 24 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
Sam grinned at the closing elevator doors. Telling her friends over text was so much better than telling Phil in person.
Anjo. Don’t know how much yet. Have to meet with their founder or something first. Who wrote that one?
There was a moment’s pause when the elevator doors opened before Jehan shot back,
I did! It is on our tracking spreadsheet, remember?
Sam laughed. Jehan had insisted that they be systematic about the application process, setting up a spreadsheet to track who was the primary person on each grant, how much money they asked for, the date they had turned in the application, etc. She and Duke thought the spreadsheet was almost as difficult to fill out as a grant application, so Jehan was the only one who ever actually used the thing. Apparently, it worked, because Jehan had written the winning grant for Sam’s program.
One problem. We need to find an adviser.
What about Dr.Schwartz? Isn’t he the head of obstetrics?
Leave it to Jehan to go straight to the top. Sam smiled as she replied.
Dr.Schwartz is Dr.Franklin’s cousin. I feel like birds of a feather. Blah blah ...
Ask Grant?
Sam felt herself flinch at Duke’s idea. It was harder to gloat when you needed someone’s help. And gloating over the fact that Dr.Franklin had said she could run the program with caveats wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the idea of gloating while running the program without Grant.
Dr.Franklin said it has to be a Sr.Adviser.
She typed back quickly as she slowed her walking pace, trying to finish the conversation before she started rounding on patients.
Pretty sure Sr.is in his title. Just sayin’.
It’s not a bad idea.
Of course Duke would point out the loophole in Dr.Franklin’s requirement. And of course Jehan would agree with him. Why did she think she had nice friends again?
Don’t think that’s what Dr.Franklin meant. LOL!
I have to go round. Talk later?
Sam nodded at the phone in her hand as if her friends could see her putting a lid on the discussion. Why did the funder need to meet the other program administrator as well? She was about to tap back over to reread the email when another text from Duke came in.
Don’t be stubborn. Ask Grant. Then we can have ice cream to celebrate.
Deciding to answer the text later, she dropped her phone in her pocket. It occurred to her that Jehan was right. Dr.Schwartz was the most appropriate person. But from what little she’d seen of Dr.Schwartz, a pregnancy-care program under him would look almost exactly like the program they already had.
Sam bit down on her bottom lip. Maybe her best option was Grant? The thought made the muscles in the back of her neck bunch. AskingGrant to be her adviser was like suggesting that she put all the holes in her knowledge and personal imperfections on a billboard and post it outside his house. She was trying to do something new on her own, not get bogged down by his judgment and stern glances.
Then again, she had learned a lot in the last three months alone. June Sam wouldn’t even recognize August Sam, and not just because she hadn’t found a good place to get her eyebrows done then. She was a better doctor now. Asking Grant didn’t have to be a big deal. Sam could swallow her pride and ask for help. After all, he’d be swallowing his pride once he found out she’d secured funding. No one here was losing, per se. They were both making compromises ... kind of.
Sam had thought she was out of good reasons to stop stalling and ask Grant for help. Then she’d remembered that she had patients. And then the day had sort of slipped away from her. Or at least that was what she’d told her roommates when she’d shuffled home last night.
But now that she was standing in the middle school gym with Duke’s eyes burning a hole into her, she was pretty sure she had managed to stall without fooling anyone except herself. It was just that she really didn’t feel like having this conversation with Grant.
PHTHUNK.The sound of a ball being slammed into the floor jolted her out of her thoughts. Sam looked over to find Duke clutching the ball. Arching an eyebrow at her still-half-tied basketball shoe, he asked, “You gonna go over there or not? ’Cause I didn’t research all those foundations so that your stubborn ass could mess up this program.”
“I’m goin’. Let me tie my shoe.”
“You’ve been tying that shoe for twenty minutes, and the game is going to start in five, so ...” Duke trailed off, bouncing the ball again and giving her a sideways look. “You scared or something?”
“I’m not scared,” Sam said, rolling her eyes and tying off the loop of her shoelace.
“If you’re scared, I can go talk to him. I mean, I want this program for my patients too.”
