After pulling himself back into professional mode, Jasher stepped inside and pushed aside the curtain. “You were a champ today. How are you feeling?”
“Doing all right. Despite the fact you stabbed me in the gut.”
Jasher picked up the clipboard with Danny’s post-op charting. In a larger hospital, this would all be digital. In Mendon, well …
“Mm-hmm.”
“Ugh! Why do doctors do that um-humming when they read? Am I all right, doc? Will I live?”
“Well, you’ve given birth to a seven-ounce appendix. Congratulations. You’ll live, Angela will be happy to hear.”
“You don’t know Angela, then.” Danny’s usual guffaw came out at half-power. “But she’d probably still bid on me at the auction—if I were a bachelor.”
The fundraiser thing again? “What’s with the bachelor auction, anyway? Couldn’t they just keep it at a spaghetti dinner and charge twice as much?”
Danny chortled. “Not and still fund the equipment this place needs. I’m on the hospital board these days. Trying to step it up around here. Bring us into the current century.”
No. Danny Dooley was that high up in the world?
“Don’t look so shocked. I sell a lot of cars at Eagle Motors.”
Eagle Motors. Of course it would be named after the school mascot.
“Well, that Mrs. Ince person came sneaking up on me. I agreed to do it before I knew what it was. What do you think will happen if I just bail?” Because Jasher could totally bail. The town likely wouldn’t want him there anyway—no matter what Inchy said with her mouth, if not with her truth-betraying face. “I doubt anyone would miss me.”
Dooley gave a nervous laugh. “Don’t do that, man. You know the protocol, right? Didn’t you read the participant’s ticket?”
What was there to read on a ticket? He pulled it from the front pocket of his scrubs shirt.
By accepting this ticket, you agree to all rules and expectations of the Mendon Regional Hospital Auxiliary fundraiser policies, or face the described penalties. See details online at—and there was a website address.
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
“You’ll have a hard time proving that in Judge Drayer’s court. Trust me. He’s also on the hospital board.”
Incestuous town! “You’re exaggerating. No one would take me to court over failing to show up for a dinner.”
Dooley raised an eyebrow that said, Do you really want to risk that?
As if Jasher’s reputation weren’t already far enough down the toilet. “Okay, enlighten me, Danny Boy. Besides getting dragged into court—which, no, thank you—what are the threatened penalties?” Jasher could go look them up himself, but a wave of nausea was coming on, reminiscent of the queasiness he faced anytime he remembered how the Mendon High School gymnasium looked or smelled or echoed. “Not financial penalties.”
“Uh, exactly. It’s a fund-raiser, my friend.” Dooley guffawed. “Does Philippa Ince seem like the type of woman who messes around when it comes to the success of one of her ventures?”
“I just met her.” But, no, she most certainly did not. “So I will have to refund my ticket, I’m guessing. What do they cost, fifty bucks a plate?”
“A hundred.”
“A hundred bucks!”
“But that’s not the penalty.”
Great. Jasher rubbed his forehead. It was a good thing Sage hadn’t shown up yet to hear him get dragged through this sequence of humiliations. “Fine. Lay it on me.”
“In your case, the bids could be low, so it might not be as severe, since … well, you know. Your history.”
The pariah thing strikes again. “I know all about my reputation.” All signs pointed to no bids being placed on him. Whatever. Although, fine, he could admit it. He did have an ego. Rejection still stung. “I probably won’t have to worry about whatever the penalty is, but for the sake of discussion, what does it consist of?”
“Whatever the winning bid is on your entry, you have to pay ten times that amount to the hospital auxiliary if you fail to deliver.”