Fat chance. Jasher had every reason to dust his boots at Mendon for the vilification he received—over a basketball game!
Mom sighed. “She dreams he will marry someone and raise grandkids nearby. Isn’t that every mother’s secret wish?” Clearly it was Mom’s wish, and Sage wasn’t delivering. “But that’s not the main problem. It’s the potential buyer she apparently takes issue with.”
“Is he local?” Oh, no. It could be McGreeley!
“I have no idea. But Mrs. Parrish seemed to think he might have a bad motive. She’d hate to see Parrish Medical fall into the wrong hands and it probably will, according to Mrs. Parrish—unless someone can talk Jasher out of it.”
“Why doesn’t Mrs. Parrish express her concerns?” Surely that would hold a lot of weight.
“She’s cautious. And she has priorities, like preserving the relationship between herself and her son.”
Humph. Made sense. But … still. Who was buying? What if it was a bad surgeon, or a bad person in general? That was the last thing Mendon Regional needed—just when it was on the verge of coming out of the Dark Ages. Mendon was such a great place. Quirky, but with potential for being idyllically perfect. If it could forgive Jasher Hotchkiss and keep him here.
Well, at least Mom wasn’t hung up on Jasher’s basketball struggle. Had he really thrown a game, like that babbler last night had said?
“I hope you and Dad liked the spaghetti and that it wasn’t too cold by the time I got it to you.” It was why she’d left the fundraiser early. Plus, she hadn’t wanted to get cornered and feel the wrath of either McGreeley or Cade Calhoun for not winning their dates. Better to evaporate before that.
“We loved it. It was so nice to see you last night. You should come around more often. But, of course, you have that job at the hospital. Do they let you do much of what your training prepared you for?”
Not enough. “Plenty. Actually, since we have a surgeon on staff now, I even had a chance to do a general anesthetic this week.” Danny Dooley’s operation had been a long-time coming. Sage didn’t mention that it only happened for her because Babbage was M.I.A. at the time.
“That’s nice, dear.”
Sage should get off the phone and back out to completing the duties of her shift. She’d count this as her break. “I need to get back, but what else did Mrs. Ince say when she called?”
“Just that Dr. Hotchkiss doesn’t yet know who won his bid—and that you were exceptionally generous.” Mom made a weird sound like a clearing throat. “Are you sure you’re not interested in this young man? I’d like to caution you, sweetheart.”
Everybody wanted to caution her about Jasher. “Look, I’ll be completely honest. I didn’t bid that high for Dr. Hotchkiss’s sake. I did it for two different reasons: one good, one bad.”
“Oh?” Mom perked up.
Sage looked around the hallway to see whether anyone might be listening. “One, the fundraiser was mainly meant for improved hospital equipment. You and I and heaven know that Mendon Regional Medical Center could use several equipment upgrades. I used Leo’s insurance money for it.”
“What a good use of those funds. I know how sacredly you guard them.”
True. Not out of any respect for Leo, of course. That louse.
“And the bad reason? Or are you not going to tell me?”
“I’m not proud of it, Mom, but since you’re my mom …” She sighed. “There was a different young man who came up and annoyed me just before the bidding. He gloated about winning the high bid every year. It was insufferable.”
“And so you made sure he lost.”
Sage didn’t speak for a moment. “I’m not proud of it. It’s not something you would have taught me to do.”
Mom gave a low chuckle. “Get back to work, Sage. I’m just glad you are who you are. You know that? And even if he’s probably lining up to be your enemy, maybe you can help Elaine’s son have a good time on the dates you won that Inchy mentioned. Hey, perhaps you can be the one to keep him from selling his business to someone who shouldn’t have it. I’ll tell Elaine you’re on it, okay? I’ll probably see her at the funeral tomorrow.”
Mom hung up before Sage could protest, or ask whose funeral it was this time. Mom went to every funeral in town. She thought people needed support. Sometimes she dragged Sage along, although not as often anymore.
Anyway, come on. Who was Sage to tell Jasher Hotchkiss to whom he could or couldn’t sell his medical clinic? In the operating room, working on that ruptured appendix, Jasher had hinted strongly that he was involved in the clinic against his will. Unfortunately, I’m running Dr. Parrish’s clinic now.
It made total sense that he’d want to close it down. But whoever bought it would keep the clinic open, right? They’d continue to offer health care to the under-insured, just like Dr. Parrish had. Surely.
Except—would the new owner? Really?
The whole rural region had revered Dr. Parrish. They were putting up a plaque in his honor, for heaven’s sake. What had made Sage think that whoever took his spot would be his equal? Likely anyone who replaced him would be his inferior. Well, except Jasher, with his surgical skills.
Maybe Sage should try to take on the challenge of keeping him here.