Chapter 6 - The Debt Victor Couldn’t Pay
Three weeks later, Clara received a certified letter.
She opened it at the kitchen table.
Then read it again.
Her medical case had been reopened.
Two days later came another letter.
Then a hearing.
Then testimony from Warren, hospital administrators, residents, and nurses.
Victor never attended.
He never called anyone in front of her.
He never offered money.
For once, he respected the boundary.
Six weeks after Victor collapsed through her door, Clara stood before the state medical board.
The chairman adjusted his glasses.
“Dr. Hayes, based upon newly discovered evidence concerning altered staffing records and institutional failures, the board has voted to reinstate your license subject to routine continuing education requirements.”
Clara stared at him.
“Reinstate?”
“Yes.”
She walked outside in silence.
Victor was waiting across the street.
Alone.
He wore the same platinum watch.
Clara crossed to him.
“You knew.”
“I heard this morning.”
“My license is back.”
“I know.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“You didn’t buy anybody?”
“No.”
“Threaten anybody?”
“No.”
“Send two hundred men to stand outside the medical board?”
Victor almost smiled.
“I considered it.”
“Victor.”
“I’m joking.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I’m improving.”
Clara looked at the letter again.
“I don’t have a job.”
“I know.”
“I’m not working for you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to ask whether you wanted coffee.”
Clara narrowed her eyes.
“Coffee?”
“People drink it.”
“I’m aware.”
“I’m trying something unfamiliar.”
“What?”
“A normal invitation.”
She studied him.
“Fine.”
Victor blinked.
“Fine?”
“Coffee.”
His expression became suspicious.
“That was easier than expected.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
They walked two blocks to a small café.
Halfway there, Victor said, “There is something else.”
“I knew it.”
“A building became available in the Narrows.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the proposal.”
“No.”
“It used to be a dental clinic. Six examination rooms. Minor surgical suite.”
Clara stopped.
“Victor.”
“You said no gifts. So it isn’t a gift.”
“What is it?”
“An investment.”
“In what?”
“You.”
She stared at him.
“That sounds dangerously close to buying me.”
“Then don’t take my money.”
He handed her a folder.
Inside were documents for a nonprofit community clinic.
The board had several local physicians.
Victor’s name appeared nowhere.
Clara flipped through the pages.
“Who owns the building?”
“You would lease it.”
“At market rate?”
“Reduced community-development rate.”
“Victor.”
“Fine. Market rate.”
“How do I pay for equipment?”
“Grants.”
“Which you conveniently know how to obtain?”
“I know people who understand paperwork.”
Clara laughed.
“Your criminal empire has grant writers?”
“My criminal empire has accountants. They’re surprisingly versatile.”
She closed the folder.
“I’ll consider it.”
Victor nodded.
That was all.
No pressure.
No command.
Clara noticed.
“You’re learning.”
“So are you.”
“Learning what?”
“That accepting help and owing someone aren’t always the same thing.”
She stared at him.
“You rehearsed that.”
“For twenty minutes.”
“That’s embarrassing.”
“I agree.”
They continued walking.
Clara quietly slipped her hand into his.
Victor looked down.
Then at her.
May you like
Neither said anything.
For once, neither needed to.
