Conflicts of the Heart (20 page)

Her back arched. The cold, hard reality of seeing her ex-husband face to face sent a rocket of fear soaring through her. She gave into the tension that had been building up all morning.

“I wasn't prepared to see him outside of court.” She leapt to her feet, leaving Michael startled.

“I won’t be in a room alone with that man. He has a short fuse. He was never good with Michael. I'm still afraid you can't keep him from screwing me over again.”

“It's all right.” John went to her and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “This'll be easier than court. I think we have enough so he'll want to settle it right here. You won't have to see him alone. When he
leaves, I'll even take you to your hotel. He won't know where you're staying. When it's over, you can return to Ashton. Your past will be in the past. Since he wants nothing to do with Michael, you can cut the ties permanently. He’s never been physically violent, has he?”

“No. He’s just hotheaded.
Verbally abusive. Not bad enough to file for a restraining order.”

Michael watched her. How much of this did he understand? She made a conscious effort never to put Joel down in front of him.

John picked up on her concern. “Would you like Michael to sit out front with my secretary?”

“No. He'll be all right here.”

She faced John Meyer. “A courtroom is big. I visualized Joel way over on the other side. Like it was during our divorce. I didn't even have to talk--”

John took her hand in his. “I know how tough this is, but it'll end the way it should've the first time around.” His brows arched, and his lips broke into an encouraging smile.
“Tomorrow?” He lifted her chin. “You can do this.”

Being out of debt and having money to care for her son outweighed her fear of dealing with Joel. John assured her they were now going to shatter Joel's dream just as he had shattered hers and Michael's. How sad for all of them. This didn’t have to be happening.

“Now you look ready to win.”

“I may look ready to win, but wait until you meet Joel. He's tough.”

“We have a lot to go over.” He gestured for her to sit. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.
Some water for Michael, too, if it isn't too much trouble.”

“Not at all.”
He went to his desk, buzzed his secretary, requested drinks and his calls held until their meeting ended.

“Are your plans still the same as when we discussed them on the phone?” She felt confident. Keeping herself in check wasn’t only necessary for her, but for Michael too.

Before he returned to his seat, the secretary had delivered the tea and water and then left.

“We're going for the works. I think Joel should sell the house, pay
off the debts, and split what's left with you. His child support should be tripled, and if he doesn't pay, we'll report him to Family Support Services.”

“Giving up that house will kill him. He loves that place. He has a small factory in the basement.” The thought of Joel’s reaction if he had to pack up and move from his empire sent a new set of alarm bells ringing. He would claim poverty, and say that he'd mortgaged the house to the hilt.

“You gave up your home. It’s just as much yours as it is his. If he can't take care of his debts, he shouldn't live there.”

John thumbed through the stack of papers she faxed him earlier. “If these suggest his earnings, he can afford to let you off the hook.”

“You think we have enough to get him?”

“We'll give him this evidence if he settles.” John stabbed at the file with his finger. “He can do whatever he wants with it. We go to court if he won't agree to our terms and your evidence
proving his real income will become public. Then he can deal with the IRS and whoever else wants a piece of him.”

She shuddered, reached for the file under John's hand, and scanned the summary sheet on top. Why should she give a damn about what happened to Joel, his business or his precious house?

Fourteen

Patrick had no more than finished his shower when the phone jangled him back to reality. Who the hell could be calling at that time of the morning?

“Patrick, this is Andrea.” Andrea Lerner, a critical care nurse Patrick used to see, hadn’t called him at home since their breakup.

“What's up?” Her call aroused his curiosity. She could be testing the water to see if he might want to pick up where they left off.

“You have a war on your hands.”

He laughed. “A war? What are you talking about?”

“Teal's been up on the floors talking to employees all
night.”

“What?” He was stunned.

“How?”

“
She’s been here for the past three nights. Nobody's stopped her. She’s been meeting with the employees in the break rooms, down in the cafeteria and at three this morning. She had doughnuts, sweet rolls, and fresh fruit sent up to all floors. You'd think the Good Witch of the East had just dropped down from Oz, red slippers and all.”

Patrick's mind reeled. What was going on? Where was Dana?
“Have you heard anything specific?”

“Only secondhand.
I couldn't get away from my unit, but there's a lot of buzzing around here about changing unions. From the little I've heard, you'd think Teal DeLuca was running for President of the United States with all her campaign promises. Seems the folks who aren't members like what she's saying, and a few of our members think she's got something better to offer than what they have.”

“Dammit!” Patrick slapped his bare thigh. “I'll be right down.” He didn’t need a raid right before going into mediation. “Thanks, Andrea.” He put the phone back, pulled on his clothes, and grabbed a mug of coffee to drink on the way. Now what? Dana sure as hell halted his off-limit visits, why not Teal’s? He hadn’t figured Dana for a person who put friends above her job.

Fifteen minutes later, he thundered into the cafeteria. Teal sat at the corner table in all her glory, surrounded by eight nurses, laughing and chatting as if they were old friends. Andrea Lerner sat among them. Hmm, ally or friend? He had his doubts about a woman scorned.

Teal looked up and waved at Patrick as if she owned the place, not a shadow of guilt or concern on her face. Then she turned her attention back to her audience, as if Patrick was an old acquaintance waving as he passed.

The personnel office didn’t open until 8:30, so he couldn’t go up and check in with Dana. How could she let Teal get away with this unless their old friendship had paid off for Teal? He went through the tray line for his breakfast. The contract had expired, putting his career on the line. The less serious issues, being so vital to PNA, caused many of the employees to become disgruntled. How could he eat with a stomach full of knots? He wasn't leaving until he talked to Dana, who always arrived ready for work by 8:00, sometimes earlier.

While he forced himself to eat, he couldn’t take his eyes off Teal and Andrea. Teal glanced his way every now and then, winked or smiled, then returned her attention to his members. Andrea avoided his gaze. Every so often when a few nurses left loaded down with Teal's handouts, others would take their places. Andrea was staying for the duration. The nurses were too resentful for Patrick's liking. His job in New York would be history if Teal pulled off a successful raid. He'd be stuck here for the next five years, he’d miss his daughter growing up, and his dream of fulfilling his dad's last wish would be
squelched.

The pancakes seemed to swell in his throat and turn to lead in his stomach. Dana playing dirty wasn’t her style, but Teal would never have come in here without permission. She wanted to do this for the past two years but had been delayed by Leon Benson. So he’d been wrong about a woman negotiator making his life easier.

Unable to stand it any longer, he decided to see if Dana might have come in early. If she hadn't, Ann would be in. He left his unfinished breakfast and raced up the stairs, thinking he did all this himself. He couldn’t very well dash into Dana's office and demand Teal be removed from the premises, unless they caught her on the floors first.

Teal was smart trying to win over the night shift. They were the most vulnerable and eager to be a part of the mainstream. They called themselves the stepchildren nobody paid any
attention to. Few administrators came in at night to meet with them, and most of the educational programs were held during the day. If they wanted the continuing education program, then they should have come in during the day and not been home asleep.

With the door to the personnel office open and the lights on, he breathed a sigh of relief. A voice in his head warned him to be cool.
Don't go off half-cocked and blow this out of proportion.

Maria Vasquez turned from making coffee when Patrick entered the office.

“You startled me.” She clutched her chest, a bag of coffee in one hand. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I'd like to see Dana.”

“She isn't in. Ann's here.”

“When’s Dana due in?”

“You'll have to speak to Ann about that.”

“Come in, Patrick,” Ann called out from behind the door.

He strolled into her small simply decorated office and stood in front of her glass-topped desk.

“What brings you into the lions' den, Mr. Mitchell?” Ann spoke with an air of superiority, a new tone for her. Some of Dana's muscle must have rubbed off.

“What time will Dana be in?”

“She won't.”

He never cared for Ann's style. She lacked the strong, positive qualities he admired in Dana. Ann had never done anything to him except let him break the rules without calling security. He should have thanked her. This happened during the period before Dana arrived, and he picked up his greatest number of new members. That's what bothered him most about Teal. She could do the same thing. He had to stop her before she ruined everything he’d worked so hard to get.

“When do you expect Dana?”

“Not until Monday for mediation.”

Then he remembered her business in San Jose with her ex-husband. At least the mediator gave her time off, even though his suspicions were heightened because of Gil Hargrove’s decision for a new mediator.
Knowing the little he did about Joel Claiborne, Patrick had a sudden pang of sympathy for what Dana and Michael must be going through right now. A part of him wanted to comfort her and help her with Michael, but that was impossible. They’d blown it.

“You know, it may be ironic, but there's this little thing going on that isn't cool.”

“Such as?”

“Teal DeLuca from Local two eighty-one has been in the hospital soliciting nurses.”

“No.”

Ann rocked in her chair, an amused expression on her proud face. If she weren't so uptight, she could be an extremely attractive woman. She always dressed impeccably, now more like Dana, and she wore her hair in a smart twist. Her deep, strong voice commanded attention, but she had no guts to back it up.
Probably, the reason why she didn't get Dana's job when Benson left.

“I was wondering how long it would take her to start. Dana said she wanted in.”

“Then nobody's told you that she's been up on the floors every night for the past three days, working the break rooms. She's even had food sent up, bribing the employees.”

Ann sprang from her chair. “Maria, will you come in here, please?”

Maria arrived in a flash, steno pad in hand. “Yes, Ann.”

“Have you heard anything about Teal being on the premises?”

Maria shook her head.

“Check around and see what you can find out. Let me know as soon as you have anything.” Ann nodded to Maria. “That'll be all.”

Patrick watched as she regained her composure. She broke out in a laugh. “You were right about this being an irony. You, the kingpin-of-breaking-house-rules. Now, here you are coming to my office trying to get me to do to your opposition what I couldn't do to you.”

“At least I had a contract with the hospital.”

“Patrick, I understand your concerns.” Her tone softened. “Your contract has expired and this does make PNA vulnerable. Teal DeLuca has every right to be in the cafeteria, but she cannot solicit on the floors. If what you're saying is true, I'll take care of it.”

He left Ann's office, knowing nothing would be done until Dana returned. Maybe he should just take care of it by himself. He hated the thought Dana might have had something to do with this.

* * *

Thursday morning, in a miasma of anxiety, Dana waited for Joel in John Meyer's office. The metronomic tick-tick-tick of the brass clock dominated the quiet.
John drank coffee at his desk and studied paperwork. Dana sat on the couch, her back arched, staring out at the swaying oaks. Joel was thirty minutes late. Each time the intercom buzzed, her heart leapt.