Elliott suffered a cardiac arrest less than a month ago. When Sara returned home, naturally her father saw a window of opportunity for his only child to remain in Paradise. Unfortunately it was only a few days ago that he notified me of his wishes, and by then the candidates for the position had already been narrowed down to you.”
Ben took a deep breath. So where did that leave him in the equation? One plus one was still two as far as he could tell, and there was only a single open position.
Henry Rhoades frowned for moment. “I trust you will keep what I’m about to say confidential.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve been the medical director here in Paradise for over twenty-five years. One thing I have learned is that sometimes it’s better to proceed and apologize later than ask permission.” He winked, and once again Ben couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen that mischievous glimmer before.
“Sir?”
“Stay with me for a moment. I do eventually arrive at my destination.”
Ben nodded, amused and concerned at the same time. This was like no other job interview he could remember. Physician interviews were generally so starched, he could barely breathe. Yet Dr. Henry Rhoades was about as laid-back as they come, leaving Ben struggling to figure the man out, much less where the convoluted conversation would lead.
“Bequeaths and donations go directly to the hospital foundation, which is overseen by the Board of Trustees. The clinic is under that same board, so I have gone to them for assistance in resolving this situation. While Hollis Elliott’s generous funding has made the last phase of the clinic project possible, I am not without options.”
The phone on his desk buzzed.
“Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver. “Yes. Thank you. Send her in.”
The door opened, and Sara Elliott walked into the room.
Sara had changed clothes and now wore a simple yet elegant navy dress, her long hair free and flowing. This was quite a transformation from the cowgirl he’d met earlier.
Surprised, Ben caught his breath before he immediately stood. And stumbled.
Way to go, Rogers. Grace under pressure.
“Are you all right?” she murmured.
“Yeah. The carpet tripped me.” He adjusted his suit coat and cleared his throat.
A soft laugh tumbled from her lips. “Happens to me all the time.”
“Sara, my dear.” Henry Rhoades smiled. “You’ve met Dr. Rogers.”
“I have.”
Ben paused and cocked his head at the warm tone in Dr. Rhoades’s conversation with Sara. A warning bell sounded somewhere, but he dismissed it. After all, Paradise was a small town, and her father was, after all, the financier behind the clinic.
“I had the opportunity to see Dr. Rogers in action today,” she continued.
“Yes, and no doubt he will be on the front page of the Paradise Observer,” Dr. Rhoades said with a nod toward him.
Sara smiled as her gaze met Ben’s. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Ben blinked. Surely they weren’t serious.
Once Sara had settled in the leather Windsor wing chair next to his, Ben sat down again.
Henry Rhoades steepled his fingers and assessed them both over the rim of his glasses. “Now then, the matter at hand is the clinic position. What I’m proposing is that you work together this summer.”
Sara’s eyes widened as she looked from Dr. Rhoades to him. “Together?” She slowly repeated the word that had lodged in Ben’s own throat.
From directing a clinic to job sharing in less than thirty minutes.
“Yes,” Dr. Rhoades answered. “I’ve spoken to the board, and they are willing to subsidize two doctors through the first of September. At that time we’ll assess our options.”
“That’s a little over eight weeks from now. Are you saying we’re going to share the position for the entire eight weeks?” Sara asked, her tone incredulous.
“Since the clinic officially opens late September, there’s more than enough work to keep you both busy. Interviewing medical staff. Ordering supplies. Then there’s accreditation. I can assure you the time will pass very quickly.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “A lot can happen in eight weeks.”
“Precisely,” Dr. Rhoades responded with an enthusiastic wag of his index finger. “Think of this as a personal and professional due diligence. Paradise needs someone who’s ready to commit to a future here.”
Pink now tinged Sara’s high cheekbones. She grimaced and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
“Eight weeks is plenty of opportunity to discover whether Paradise is a good fit for you and if you’re a good fit for Paradise, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Rogers?”
Confused at the subtle undercurrent, Ben slowly looked from Sara to Henry Rhoades before clearing his throat and agreeing. “Yes, sir.”
What else could he say? Paradise was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t...no, he flat-out refused to allow that to happen.
“Excellent.” Dr. Rhoades closed the folder on his desk. “You’re scheduled for Human Resources processing Monday, and then I’ll see you at the clinic on Tuesday. Dress casually. While the construction is basically complete, there is still quite a bit of dust and dirt.”
Ben nodded, but his head continued to spin as he stood. What had just happened? This wasn’t the outcome he’d hoped for, packed up his belongings and driven hours for.
“Have you eaten?” the older man asked.
“Sir?”
“Have you eaten?”
“Almost,” Ben responded.
“Almost?” Dr. Rhoades raised a bushy brow.
“I was headed to Patti Jo’s and never quite made it to a table.”
“Sara, take Dr. Rogers to The Prospector.”
Sara nodded, but didn’t appear any more enthused than he felt at the moment.
“I don’t want to impose,” Ben interjected.
“Nonsense. I’d take you myself, but I’ve got a previous commitment. Besides, you two should get to know each other since you’ll be working very closely together for eight weeks.”
Eight weeks.
Was that enough time to convince Henry Rhoades that he was the right person for the job?
Ben wanted the position more than ever. His troubled spirit had been soothed the moment he drove into the small town. Now he just had to make sure he got what he wanted.
* * *
Sara bit her lip and glanced quickly at Ben once they were seated. “I’m really sorry about this. I never expected that we’d be...” She paused, at a loss for words.
Ben shrugged. “Not exactly what I expected either, but hardly your fault.”
She fiddled with her napkin, grateful when their waitress approached them and slid a stoneware bowl of homemade pickles on the polished pine table.
“What do you recommend?” Ben asked, turning over the menu.
“The valley is known for their beef and bison.” Sara placed an order for a bison burger and handed her menu to the server.
“I’ll have the same thing,” he said.
She looked around at the rustic décor as