“So?”
“So, I need someone who can also stand to gain from this. My proposal is this—I front the costs for Gus’s surgery in exchange for your time and discretion. We both get what we want.”
Her mouth drops open. “Do you…realize how much that’s going to cost, out-of-pocket? Over a hundred thousand dollars.”
Of course, I know how much it is. I can’t stop myself from smiling at her, surprised at her misunderstanding. I might not have the endless bank account necessary to single-handedly fund the clinic on my own in perpetuity, but I’m not exactly hurting for cash. Even the check I wrote earlier barely dipped into my savings, not even considering my investments and other holdings.
I’m an unmarried, world-renown cardiovascular surgeon from a wealthy family with no children. Unlike most doctors, I didn’t graduate with a mountain of debt, and at nearly fifty, without a family to support, all my extra money has gone toward investing, buying land, fattening my retirement.
I could retire from medicine today and live comfortably on the returns from my investments alone. Not that I plan to do that, but I could. I could have done it ten years ago.
All that to say that, yes—I can easily cover the cost of Gus’s surgery. But how do I communicate that to her without it coming off as boastful? I’m not oblivious to my privilege. Clearly, Juliette isn’t in the same situation as me. My father might be dead, but he left me a legacy and paid for every degree I earned before he passed.
Juliette doesn’t have anyone financially but herself.
“It’s…” Juliette swallows, then shakes her head, letting out an incredulous laugh, and I realize for the first time that she’s practically shaking in her seat. At first, I think it’s anxiety, but I quickly realize it’s rage when she says, that husky voice even lower, “So, let me get this straight—you thought you couldbuyme?”
I blink at her, “No—that’s not?—”
She stands up from her chair, her gorgeous face flushing a deep red. “You thought I’d come in here and you’d say all this, and I’d—what? Drop to my knees? Start crying out my gratitude to you?”
I thought there was a chance she might say no.
In fact, I’d even thought of that as the most probable situation.
But I hadn’t considered the fact that she might be angry, might think of my offer as a hit to her character, rather than a proposal for a situation that would benefit us both.
“No, Juliette, just wait?—”
“Don’tfollow me,” she says, holding up her hand when she reaches the door. For a moment, she holds my gaze, then she clears her throat and says, “I’m sorry about your dad. But I think it would be better if you and I both pretend this never happened.”
With that, she’s gone.
Along with any chance I have of getting my inheritance in time to save the clinic.
“So, just so I understand, Russell,” Ronald says, grimacing, his face blurry over the video call. “Youdon’thave your inheritance yet?”
“There have just been some minor bumps in getting it released.” I stare into the camera with a winning smile, daring Ronald to continue pressing. “But it shouldn’t be more than a few months.”
Ronald looks skeptical, then he sighs, slides his glasses off his nose, and starts to wipe at them with his shirt. “You know, your father and I were close, Russell.”
Everyone thought they were close with my dad—that was part of his charm. He was the kind of guy who made you feel like you were his best friend, though that was usually not true.
“Of course,” I say instead, even though the only thing I want to do is get off this call.
“Calvin has been pushing hard for us to close the clinic. In his mind, the best way to continue your father’s legacy is to ensure BHC is well-funded. That the other branches can continue to operate without risk. And he sees the clinic as a liability.”
I’m well aware, I think, but don’t say. Calvin is an idiot. If he cared about continuing my father’s legacy, he would know this is thelastthing he would want.
Ronald goes on, “I know the two of you disagree about this, but I think it’s important that you remember youarefamily. Grief can either bring people closer or push them apart. And we definitely don’t want your situation to be the latter.”
It’s not like Calvin and I have ever been particularly close. Maybe back when we were kids, and we weren’t vying for attention from the same man. Once we graduated high school, moved into college and beyond, that competition turned into a cool, measured—and maybe even slightly friendly—complacency with one another.
Neither of us was going to leave. Also, when I chose cardiology over neurology, when I moved away to New York—I cemented Cal’s place as the golden boy in my father’s mind, so it didn’t matter, anyway.
Or, as close to the golden boy as you can be while getting a small morsel from his estate. I could ask Grande to read the full will to me, but in truth I’m not that interested in what Cal got. Likely some stocks from a company my father anticipated would do well. Maybe a few million dollars.
“…your father wouldn’t want that,” Ronald says, and I realize I’ve zoned out for the last part of his little speech. I nod, hoping he doesn’t quiz me on what he’s said later. Sighing again and sliding the glasses back onto his face, Ronald says, “A few months. Fine—you have until the new year, Russell. After that, we’re opening up the discussion about the clinic. And we’ll have to take Calvin’s viewpoint into consideration.”
