Conflicts of the Heart (9 page)

Joel sat quietly as he gazed around. He probably expected her to pick up the conversation. She knew he enjoyed talking about his work, so she didn’t waste any time. “How's biz?”

“I'm still struggling. Things don't look hot right now. I'll hit it big one of these days.” He licked the salt from his margarita glass and sipped more of the icy liquid.

“Dana's lucky she got out of all this. At least she's making a steady income. I'm on the brink of losing everything. Business has been bad. That damn Steve Jobs beat me by a month with a tablet I sunk every cent I owned into.” He slurred his words.

Poor Joel. While he struggled, Dana traipsed around Ashton, a little broke, but in a big job with lots of money looming on the horizon.

“Dana's been promised the administrator's job at Templeton in a couple of years, when old Hargrove retires.” There she said it. Now she couldn’t turn back. Her new journey as a traitor to her friend began. She’d picked a side and there she’d stay until the entire mess was resolved. Hopefully, in her favor.

“Good for her. She always wanted to be in charge.” He hiccupped. “Guess I won't have to worry about her.” He leaned back in his chair, downing the rest of his drink. He flagged the waiter for two more.

Halfway through her second drink, Teal swayed a little from the booze. “Dana found a whole box of receipts that could hang you out to dry with the IRS.” Her words just slid right out.

Joel shot up from his seat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Her eyes welled with tears as every head in the room turned in
their direction. Now, without a why, how or what, she truly betrayed Dana, for real. Every emotion from guilt, sadness, elation, fear all crept over her. She paused, waiting for a calm contentment to help her finish what she came for. After all, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Why had she come over here if it weren’t to inform Joel of the trap waiting to snap shut at any moment?

“Come on.” Joel grabbed her thin wrist, pulled her up, and dropped a twenty on the ta
ble. “We're outta here.”

“I'm starving. We haven't had dinner.”

“You can eat something at my house.”

At Joel's, sitting at the kitchen table, he poured them each a tall scotch and water.
“Dinner. Now, wipe those tears. They're phony. At first, I thought Dana sent you, but I was wrong. I know how you think and why you're here. So get off it.” He leaned in, his nose an inch from hers. “You've always been so jealous of Dana you couldn't see straight. She was too dumb to see through you, but I did.”

Teal trembled, unsure of what he’d do. “You're sick. I felt sorry for you.”

“Bullshit. You watch out for number one.” He drew back and folded his arms across his wide chest. “So what do you want out of all this?”

Rising from her chair, she walked to the sink. With her back to him, she poured her scotch down the drain and filled her glass with tap water. “You won't believe this, but I was interested in you before Dana.” She faced him. “You couldn't see me for her.” She sipped some water, watching Joel over the rim of the glass. She liked the devil streak in him. He made her weak in the knees. “Of course, I was no prize back then. When Dana told me that you were divorced, I thought maybe I had a chance. I’ve changed a lot.” She walked to him, laid a hand on his shoulder. “I have changed, haven't I?” She ran her fingers through his hair.

“That you have, honey.” He took her hand from his hair, pulled her down on his lap, and kissed her, hard.

She pulled away.
“Stop. You're biting my lip.”

Lowering his head, he nuzzled his nose in her cleavage.
“Hmmm, nice and soft. Bigger than I remember.” He ran his tongue against her skin. “Let's go to bed and have dessert.”

“You better not tell Dana I came over here.”

“I won't, on one condition.”

She glanced up. “Yes?”

“You're on my side. I run this show.
Deal?” A long silence.

“Deal.”

* * *

Wednesday morning, with negotiations finally under way, Patrick knew he’d met his match. The elevator of the Downtown Hotel bounced to a stop. He stepped out into the hallway and headed for the designated room. Dana ranked on the top of his list as one of the toughest negotiators he ever met. In the beginning, he read her all wrong. He believed he had his contract in his hands because of her being a woman. If anything, she negotiated tougher than any man
he'd ever come up against before.

She turned him into a bloody wreck. He obsessed about the woman, which interfered with his objectivity. Behind her strength as a negotiator, she had a mysterious quality, a certain vulnerability about her that fascinated him. He didn’t understand this alluring quality and it drove him crazy. More than negotiating a contract, he wanted to take her in his arms and assure her things were going to be okay. His “man protecting the little lady” took over.

Before entering the room, he straightened his shoulders and decided he better rein in his feelings for this woman before he bungled the contract.

He arrived first. For two days, he used every trick he knew to see just how far he could go. Today he stopped testing her. She knew her stuff.

Like a group of kids responding to the school bell, everyone arrived together, except Dana, who, twenty minutes later, made her entrance.

With grace, she eased her curvy, navy-blue suited body into her chair. He liked her hair brushed away from her face, and she blushed her cheeks just enough to give her the glow of youth. She must not have liked his compliment about her sexy dress yesterday, because this morning she arrived in one of her tailored, corporate suits. Little did she know she looked great in both a soft, feminine dress and a tailored
suit.

“Did you pick up the evening paper on your way in?” he said with a glint of humor in his voice.

“Sorry. I had an urgent errand this morning. Then I had trouble finding a parking place.”

A full team sat around a large table in the center of the light and airy room. Together, they decided once the contract expired, the confidentiality rule expired as well, which meant they were free to discuss the state of affairs openly. Secondly, whenever either side called a caucus, which happened frequently, Dana took her team to the smaller room next door. Patrick and the nurses always stayed in the large room.

“Are we ready to go over our proposals?”

Patrick nodded, then broke into a four-hour litany of reasons his members should have more money, improved benefits, more creative flex-shifts. He ended at one, slumped down in his chair and sounding exhausted, demanded easier access to the hospital for himself.

When Dana called for a lunch break, the team members came to life. “We'll review our proposals this afternoon.”

Downstairs in the bustling Indoor Cafe, the hostess ushered Dana's team to a banquette along the wall. Patrick had placed two tables four feet from hers. She sat on the outside of her table, unaware Patrick, seated at the end of his table, faced her. She couldn’t imagine eating lunch with that man staring at her.

He smiled. She smiled back, and then turned her attention to Ann, her assistant, sitting across from her.

Ann unfolded her napkin on her lap. “We should be grateful we got through his proposals in one sitting without a caucus. If he'll allow you the same courtesy this afternoon, we might make some headway.”

Patrick used an old negotiating trick by gazing directly into her eyes. She snapped her gaze to Ann. She’d show him. She needed to concentrate on the people sitting around her and ignore him, which lasted all of five minutes before she began to check him out from the corner of her eye. He caught her. She swung her gaze to Hildy Simms, the secretary for Dana's team. “I understand you've been the note taker at negotiations since PNA got in.”

Hildy
, a short, older woman with a soft sag beneath her chin uttered, “Sure have. Nothing's changed. I find it very interesting. I love all the body language going on between you and Patrick. Hope you can handle him better than Benson did, or we'll go on forever.”

Dana flushed with embarrassment, just thinking about others on the team watching and reading her and Patrick's interaction made her thankful nothing more had come of the picnic.

“It’s fun to watch them plan their moves. Look at them. They all lean into each other like they got some big secret plan they're going to spring on us.” She giggled. “Don't they know they're only going to get what you give them?”

“Not true. They have a lot of clout.” Dana pushed her salad around on her plate.

Through lunch, Dana’s eyes were magnets, pulling in Patrick's direction. An unwelcomed wave of jealousy shot through her as she watched him laugh, animatedly talk, and touch the arms of the two nurses who sat on either side of him. She got up and excused herself halfway through her salad. “I've got to make a few calls before our afternoon session. I'll be in the caucus room.”

The afternoon meeting resumed at two thirty, and Dana reviewed her proposals, giving special emphasis on hospital finances, the new Burn Center, and the inability to increase benefits and salaries. She proposed to reduce flex-shifts, especially the twelve-hour shifts, which decrease benefits for new employees and cost the hospital too much in overtime.

Patrick and his team were outraged. The day ended on a sour note, as did each session for the next fifteen days.

Dana received a call from Gil Hargrove, at noon, three weeks after the negotiations began. He sounded curt, not his usual happy-go-lucky self. Maybe the board of directors had become antsy. Or were the nurses giving him a hard time with her hard-nosed tactics? He asked her to stop by his office after her session. She didn’t want to disappoint her mentor and friend. Maybe her style of negotiating didn't fit in this area.

Still a bit insecure on her new job, a chill ran through her.

Seven

Gil glanced up from his Wall Street Journal when Dana entered his office. “Have a seat. We've got a problem.” He rose slightly before settling back down and folding his paper on the desk.

“Yes we do. I'm getting nowhere fast.” She slipped into the seat in front of his desk.

“Sorry if I sounded brusque on the phone. A few nurses had just left my office. Put me in a bad mood.”

“Figures.
I was expecting that. I guess they find my style a little different from what they're used to.” It was no easy task to take away some of their benefits and offer nothing new in return. “Patrick and I are frustrated.” Feeling tired and bedraggled from the hassling, she hadn’t slept well for the past week and had concluded she’d lost her touch. She’d never been in a meeting this long without someone making concessions. Patrick wasn’t making the first move. She was losing ground.

“Gil. You must give me some leeway or we're in for a strike.”

“It's pretty bad, huh?”

“The pits.
What did you tell the nurses who came to see you?”

“They don't understand the process. I told them that it was
inappropriate for them to come to me. I advised them to see their union rep. I know you're following my instructions to the letter. The board is getting nervous.”

“We're at a stalemate. I have to give something. What does the board expect from me, a miracle?”

Gil’s tone hardened, as he sounded on the phone earlier. “Yes. I promised the board you’d get the kind of contract we needed. These nurses should know how bad the economy is. If they don’t concede in some way, it could mean layoffs. The nurses aren’t used to being laid off. The old shortage isn’t the problem right now.”

She rose. “Maybe that's unrealistic. I'm not a magician. I told you from the beginning, I needed a few carrots. I've been given straw. Not good straw either. Why don't we give Patrick greater access? Won't cost any money and he'd be happy.”

“No. I don't want that man in this hospital any more than he already is.” Gil paused, leaning back in his chair with his two index fingers pressed against his lips.

“What if we let them keep their flex-shifts?”

“Can't do that. They're costing us too much money already, and patient care suffers from the nurses working long hours.”

“The nurses don’t mind the long hours if they get more time off. You're not giving me anything to work with.” Now she was getting desperate. Gil and his board were being obstinate because of the new wing that they wanted to build before his retirement.

“Want to call in a mediator?” He leaned forward.

She froze. A mere three weeks into a tough contract and he wanted to take away her authority and pull in a mediator. If she could give something, she felt Patrick might offer something up too.

“The mediator will ask for concessions. The most important thing to us is money. I'll protect that, but I have to give on some of their proposals.”