Heather leaves, and Celine turns back to her computer. I’m left standing in the middle of the office, without a chair. There isn’t even a spot to stash my oversized purse, so it stays on my shoulder, straining my cervical spine.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” I ask Celine politely.
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Heather mentioned that all the department chiefs have assistants for the department admin. Totally separate from the assistants who help with the clinical work.”
“Of course.”
“So I’m really not a threat to your job,” I tell her.
Celine’s lips curve with amusement. “I didn’t think you were.”
The phone rings, and Celine picks it up after the first ring. “Dr. Malone’s office,” she says smoothly. There’s a brief silence as she listens to the caller. “No, Mrs. Pendleton, it’s nota mistake. Dr. Malone’s booking in November for non-urgent consultations. You were lucky to get the October appointment.”
Another silence, and Celine rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re welcome to ask your doctor to refer you to a different surgeon. Please let me know if you’d like to cancel. Thank you.”
“Dr. Malone’s in high demand,” I remark, as Celine hangs up the phone. It’s almost May, so his wait time is over six months.
“Uh huh.”
The phone rings again, and I listen to a variation of Celine’s last conversation. She’s very sorry, but Dr. Malone definitely does not have an earlier appointment.
My gaze sweeps the office, which is immaculately neat. Spotless, in fact, with no papers to file or plants to water. There’s nothing I can do to show initiative and make myself useful.
“Should I go to the operating room?” I ask Celine. “Introduce myself to Dr. Malone?”
Celine presses her lips together as though she’s trying to hold in a laugh. “No, Alexandra. You definitely should not go to the operating room.”
“Okay. And you’re sure there’s nothing I can help with?”
She shrugs and gestures at the door to the inner office. “You might as well go in now,” she drawls. “You can introduce yourself to Dr. Malone.”
“But . . . you said he was in the operating room.”
“I lied,” Celine says unapologetically. “Go ahead. He’s not due in the clinic until noon.”
I move nervously toward the inner office and knock on the door.
“Yeah,” comes an impatient voice. “Come in.”
I take a tentative step into the office, and Dr. Malone comes into view. He’s sitting behind a desk and frowning at his computer. He’s younger than I expected, and nothing like the absent-minded professor I imagined.
He looks up from the computer and takes me in, and I feel like his dark eyes are pinning me to the floor.
I force myself to take a step forward. I really need this job.
Dr. Malone’s gaze stays fixed on me as he picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip.
But I know he’s not drinking coffee. He’s drinking mint tea.
He’s the man from the coffee line. The one who paid for my ridiculously expensive drink.
TWO
ALLY
Dr. Malone’s eyes move from my face to my latte.
