Keeping Score

Oscar smoothed back the few gray hairs circling his rounded pink pate. His expression was smug. “You read your opponents the same way Marc does.”

That was the second time Oscar had made a comment comparing him to DeMarcus. What was the old guy up to?

DeMarcus took his clipboard from Jamal. “Rick, I’m putting you on Burress. You know his moves and what he’s thinking. Jamal, you take Millbank.”

Jamal sighed. “Whatever. I just hope we can finish one series without having to go all seven g

ames. I’m tired.”

Warrick cleared the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t care how many games we have to play as long as we get the ring in the end.”

Oscar glanced at DeMarcus. “Spoken like a champion.”

DeMarcus jerked his chin toward Warrick. “Rick, get a black jersey. Darius, put on the white one.”

Warrick breathed easier. He was still on the starting roster. He hustled to the benches to grab a fresh black jersey. He’d won the fight to save his starting position. Now if he could win the battle to save his marriage, he’d have everything he’d ever wanted.

Marilyn took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and exhaled. The meeting room of the Linden Boulevard Women’s Health Clinic was scented with peach potpourri. She checked her posture and concentrated on not fidgeting. Her gaze bounced off the Georgia O’Keeffe paintings mounted to the pale peach walls before landing on the two women seated across from her. They looked fresh from the salon. Their tailored power skirt suits dripped with accessories.

She crossed her legs under the round blond wood table. She’d taken an early lunch break this Monday morning to meet with the clinic partners before returning to the hospital. “I’m excited about the prospect of joining your practice.”

Janet Crowley gave her a gracious smile. Her cap of glossy black hair framed her thin dark features. “We’re excited about our plans for the future of the clinic. Health care lectures, free screenings for women with low income. We’re looking for corporate sponsors to partner with us to grow these programs.”

Dionne Sproles, the more animated of the two, spread her arms. Her large gray eyes shone with enthusiasm. “Women are the backbone of our families. We’re the nurses, chauffeurs, accountants, tutors. We take care of everyone else. Who takes care of us? We do. Well, it’s time we got some help and the knowledge to make ourselves better, healthier. The LB Clinic is going to lead the way with that effort.”

Marilyn’s pulse leaped with excitement. “Those are the kind of programs in which I’d like to get involved. Women’s health care is more than annual checkups. It’s prevention and education. I’d like to help you develop those programs and get them started.”

She sipped her coffee. The hot, bitter brew made her eyes tear and her tongue itch. Luckily, the clinic had other things than its java to recommend it. Chief among them was the ability to set her own hours and better supervise her patients’ care.

Dionne tapped the manila folder beside her coffee mug. “What we’ve learned about you so far is really impressive. You have a strong résumé and great experience.”

Janet leaned back in her seat. “And, of course, your credit report and background are excellent.”

Marilyn relaxed by degrees. “I was fortunate to get into Stanford for my undergrad and the University of Pennsylvania Medical School. They’re both very strong programs.”

The two other women exchanged smiles. Janet lifted her coffee. Her dark brown eyes gleamed over the rim of her mug. “We meant your family. The Devrys of northern California have an impeccable reputation. They’re old, established money.”

Dionne nodded, her auburn hair waving around her face and shoulders. “Your family is really well respected. They’re well regarded for their philanthropy and have a lot of connections all over the country.”

Marilyn stiffened. The two partners were tripping over themselves in praise of her lineage. Her fingers tightened around her china coffee cup. “I’m proud of my family’s personal and financial contributions to social causes. It’s a commitment that’s spanned generations and one I’ll continue. But I’m not here as my family’s representative. I’m representing only myself.”

Had she made herself clear? She wouldn’t go to her family for financial assistance or business introductions. If the clinic partners agreed for her to buy into the clinic, they’d get Marilyn Devry-Evans only. She wasn’t a package deal.

Janet’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “We can’t run away from our names, though.”

Marilyn returned her cup and saucer to the table. She didn’t want to risk breaking them. “No, we can’t. But I don’t intend to trade on it, either.”

Janet tilted her head to the right. Her curtain of ebony hair swung with it. “Do you feel that way with both of your names?”

Marilyn’s shoulder muscles tightened. “Yes, I do. My family and my husband have achieved a lot. Now I want to make my own mark as an obstetrician/gynecologist and women’s health professional.”

The partners exchanged looks again. Janet crossed her legs. “Frankly, Marilyn, as impressed as we are with the Devrys’ stature and reputation, we’re less impressed with the Evans side of your family.”

Marilyn’s skin heated. “Have you been checking on my family?”

Janet shook her head. “Only what we’ve heard in the media.”

“And what we’ve found on the Internet.” Dionne smoothed her auburn hair in an odd, over-caffeinated manner.