Practicing Partners (Maiden’s Bay #2)

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

HE DIDN’T WANT to admit it, but there was something about being back home, in the familiar apartment, that put Bran at ease. After the evening’s drama, all he wanted was a cold drink and mindless television.

Plans that were thwarted by Aubrie Turnbridge.

They’d officially start over on Monday. But was she the type who could put aside her first impressions so easily? Maybe he had caught her on a bad day. You never knew what other people were going through. He meant what he said—she probably heard about him and the situation of Doc’s retirement at her arrival today. It wasn’t easy news to digest, so how could he expect her to be happy about it, happy about him?

He left the Audi parked outside the practice, next to what was most likely Aubrie’s car. He only had a duffel bag with him and didn’t know what parking would be like at his destination.

As he walked along the curvature of Pearl Avenue, shop lights dimmed or switched off completely, street lamps overpowering the moonlight—which wasn’t much to speak of, anyway—he realized the walk was farther than he’d pictured. He had forgotten about several shops, most of which had not changed in years. He’d forgotten how Doc Bernie’s office sat closer to the southern end of town, and just how long Pearl Avenue was.

Of course, it was nowhere near the size of downtown Seattle. But for once, Maiden’s Bay didn’t look all that small. It wasn’t that confining, constricting place it had been when he vowed to leave it in high school. He relished the quiet of the night, few cars driving slowly by, a handful of walkers taking in the night on the stretch of beach.

He turned right onto Ocean Street, or O Street, and headed upward. Seattle had its share of hills, especially north of the city. But something about the hill here—its steepness, the houses looking crooked at face-value, as if everything were a gust of wind away from toppling over—made for a hard climb.

Luckily, he saw the sign, the lady overlooking the sea next to the lighthouse, before the strain in his calves warmed him up too much. Maiden’s Slumber Inn.

For as long as he lived in Maiden’s Bay, he had never stayed at the inn. He never had a reason to or need for it, until tonight. The famous proprietor, Constance, was about as well-known in town as his grandfather.

Bran entered the inn, the brightness of the yellow walls giving the lobby a warm, inviting look. No one sat at the front desk, a wooden counter that matched the wood of the table, which sported no legs but an anchor, nor occupied the brown leather couch along the opposite wall from the desk.

“I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice carried through behind the walls.

Bran set his duffel bag down on the beige carpet and stretched out his cramped hand. Being away from surgery, even for the slightest break, stiffened his hands. As much as the fine motor skills and steadiness cumulatively improved the more he worked, they exponentially declined the more he didn’t work.

An elderly yet lively lady appeared around the corner of the desk, out of whatever office or most likely living space she had been in. Her hair and wrinkles suggested eighty years old, but her pep said otherwise.

“How can I help you? Need a room for tonight?”

“I do, if you have one. I’m assuming you’re Constance?”

She nodded. “I sure am. How long do you plan on staying, hun?”

Much longer than he originally thought he’d be staying in town. “I’d say a week, if you can accommodate that.”

“Let me see here.” She rifled through a tome of a book, handwritten notes taken on lined paper. “That should be okay. Would you like to book it out for a week?”

He didn’t want to. He wanted Doc Bernie to give him what he came for, and go back to Seattle in a better predicament than when he had left it earlier today. A whole week in Maiden’s Bay? Maybe longer? That constricting feeling came back again, the same one he had all through his teenage years.

“Sure. Better safe than sorry.”

“You don’t have to pay for it all up front. If your plans change, just let me know.”

Bran nodded and handed her a credit card.

Constance examined it, typing the numbers into the computer register by hand. “Bran Jackson,” she read off the name. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. “You’re one of Doc Bernie’s grandsons, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t know why he addressed her in such an old fashion manner, but it only felt appropriate.

“I thought I recognized those eyes. They’re the same as your grandmother’s.” Constance sighed. “May she rest.”

“You aren’t the first to say so.”

Nathaniel took after their dad, who had a lot of the physical features of Doc Bernie. Which meant poor Nathaniel had to cherish his hair while he could. But Bran, he had Grandma Trish’s eyes, and his mother’s lean nose and heartbreaking smile. Looks that sometimes got him into trouble. Luckily, he had developed the art of talking himself out of it. Most of the time.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why on earth would Doc’s grandson need a place to stay in Maiden’s Bay?”

Bran had considered his options. He could’ve stayed at Dad and Rita’s house until they got back, but once they had, he’d end up bickering with Dad and have to leave, anyway. If Nathaniel still lived there, then maybe. Nathaniel had a way of abating Dad’s disappointment in Bran, being the good son. Perhaps it was best he and Nathaniel kept their distance. Wouldn’t want failure to rub off on him.

The other option was staying at Doc’s house. It was going to be tough enough to work at his side every day. How could he also live with him, the man he was about to break trust with?

“You know, growing up in a house with my parents is one thing. You have to listen, obey their rules. It’s another to return as an adult and stay with them.”

“They still have rules, but you’ve had the taste of freedom, so to speak.” Constance laughed a pure laugh. “Explain no more.”

Luckily, she hadn’t asked about Doc Bernie’s place. It wasn’t really her business anyway. Bran was paying to stay at her place, so why discourage a customer? On the other hand, this was Maiden’s Bay. Everyone’s business was up for grabs.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to have you stay here.” She handed him the card back, along with a room key. “Room 4, up the stairs two levels. Bathroom is at the end of your hallway. Breakfast is served between six and nine in the morning.”

“Thank you.” He carried his duffel bag up the narrow stairwell two flights to Room 4. The room had two twin beds with about a foot and a half of space between them. The white curtains hanging around the window on the far wall were drawn back. At least he had a bit of a view over the rooftop of the building in front of Constance’s. He could glimpse a strip of water in the pale moonlight, but most of the view was of the night sky. It helped to make the room seem not so small.

What had he expected here? The building belonged on the historical register if it wasn’t already, and had to be one of the oldest in town. Of course the rooms were going to be small. But Constance always had a steady flow of customers, and repeat customers from what he had heard, loyal to her. For what the place lacked in accommodations, it must’ve been made up for by Constance herself.

He sat on the bed closest to the window, the bed frame creaking but the mattress the right balance of firm and soft. The room lacked a television, though he noted in passing that the breakfast room had one, with two guests sitting at a table watching some game show. These days, it wasn’t a necessity to have a television, considering the content was at people’s fingertips on phones or tablets.

He opened his email on his phone and began reading when a call startled him. Doctor Fredericks.

His heart skipped at the name. Could this be news of the status of his probation. Did he want to know? Sure, he wanted to go back to his job, to do what he was great at doing and happened to enjoy. But did he want to hear the answer, on the chance that he couldn’t go back?

Bran sucked in a deep breath. “Hello?”

“Bran, it’s Doctor Fredericks. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, relatively speaking. No.”

“I just wanted to let you know that the Clinical Competency Committee had its first meeting. I can’t tell you the details, but—”

“It looks bad?” Bran’s shoulders sagged. “I knew it. I knew Sebastian had it out for me, and it wasn’t how he’s making it look.”

“Now look, calm down. It was only the presentation of materials. You know, as your advisor, I’m going to bat for you.”

“I appreciate that. I really do.”

“There’s a lot to unwrap here in the next meetings. It’s not your ordinary questioning of competency. At least, not in the academic sense.”

“Thanks for that.”

“I’m only saying that it’ll take some time.”

They both sat in silence, the unspoken words louder than the crowd had been at Campy’s Bar.

Dr. Fredericks sighed. “I promise you Bran, I’m going to try to show them what you bring to the table. How valuable your skillset is. I’ve told you before, I haven’t seen someone as talented as you in a long time.”

Normally, Bran would soak in the compliments. It felt different hearing them now. As if they were the cushion before the blow.

“I have to watch what I say. But can you tell me you understand that there’s more at work here than the facts?”

Bran knew all too well what was at work. It had to do with money, influence. Who people knew. “As in, it’d be easier if I or my family had given huge donations in the past?”

Dr. Fredericks coughed through a slight choke. “I can’t comment on that.”

What Bran had said rang true. “Just know I’ve got something in the works.”

“What are you doing? Bran, where are you?”

“I’m back in my hometown for a while. Maiden’s Bay. Hopefully not too long.”

“Probably good that you’re not here, but not too far away. You can at least try to enjoy this time off.”

There wasn’t much he expected to enjoy. Despite having seen several folks he hadn’t in years, being back in town wasn’t a joyful reunion. He didn’t like having to do what he planned to do, but he needed to do it. He needed Doc Bernie to hand the family business to him. He didn’t want to have to stay at the inn and didn’t want to have to work together with Aubrie.

He didn’t want anything to do with this situation.

But he couldn’t go back in time.

“I’m working on something. If I can secure it… it would be a great asset for the hospital. To expand their reach.”

“Just don’t do anything foolish,” Dr. Fredericks said.

“It’s a little late for that, apparently.” It was a joke, yes. But he didn’t view what he had done as foolish. It wasn’t wrong based on the information he had at the time, or forbidden by hospital rules, or against any oath or patient confidentiality agreement. “Thanks, Doctor Fredericks. Again.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you in the loop as much as I can. You know there’s only so much I can share.”

“I know. We don’t need you to be put under probation, too. Or they’d lose another pair of genius hands.”

“Well, don’t you think highly of yourself?”

Bran chuckled and appreciated the laugh on the other end. Dr. Fredericks was a fierce advocate for those he trained and served under his watch. But it took a lot for him to crack up. Laughter from the man was a rare thing.

“I’ll speak to you soon.” Dr. Fredericks hung up, and Bran sat in the bed, staring at the sky out the window without really looking at it. There was a lot at stake, and most of it was out of his control.

The only thing he could control was how well he did working under Doc Bernie. Which meant he had to get along with Aubrie while outshining her in every task, small or large. He’d have to go back to that mental mindset of medical school, where everyone pretended to be a part of a group helping each other out but really wanted to be the best doctor of the bunch.

Perhaps he never really lost that attitude. Every surgery he stepped into, he wanted to win. Not only to keep the patient alive, but add to their lives. To fix what he could fix, to show everyone in the room, and the patient’s family—heck, all of the hospital—that not only could he do it, but he was the best man for the job.

What he hadn’t considered in visiting here, in vetting for Doc Bernie’s established practice, was that he could very well be the best man for the job.

But a woman may be better.