“He’s kind of an entrepreneur,” Kat said vaguely. “He’s a little down on his luck right now, but Mike will bounce back. He always does.” I hope to God I’m right, Kat thought.
Harry Bowman had transferred from a residency program in Iowa. He was a good-humored, happy-go-lucky fellow who went out of his way to be pleasant to everyone.
One day, he said to Paige, “I’m giving a little party tomorrow night. If you and Dr. Hunter and Dr. Taft are free, why don’t you come? I think you’ll have a good time.” “Fine,” Paige said. “What shall we bring?” Bowman laughed. “Don’t bring anything.” “Are you sure?” Paige asked. “A bottle of wine, or…”
“Forget it! It’s going to be at my little apartment.” Bowman’s little apartment turned out to be a tenroom penthouse, filled with antique furniture.
The three women walked in and stared in amazement.
“My God!” Kat said. “Where did all this come from?”
“I was smart enough to have a clever father,” Bowman said. “He left all his money to me.”
“And you’re working?” Kat marveled.
Bowman smiled. “I like being a doctor.”
The buffet consisted of Beluga Malossol caviar, pâté de campagne, smoked Scottish salmon, oysters on the half shell, backfin lump crabmeat, crudites with a shallot vinaigrette dressing, and Cristal champagne.
Bowman had been right. The three of them did have a wonderful time.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Paige told Bowman at the end of the evening when they were leaving.
“Are you free Saturday?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I have a little motorboat. I’ll take you out for a spin.”
“Sounds great.”
At four o’clock in the morning, Kat was awakened out of a deep sleep in the on-call room. “Dr. Hunter, Emergency Room Three…Dr. Hunter, Emergency Three.”
Kat got out of bed, fighting exhaustion. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she took the elevator down to the ER.
An orderly greeted her at the door. “He’s over on the gurney in the corner. He’s in a lot of pain.”
Kat walked over to him. “I’m Dr. Hunter,” she said sleepily.
He groaned. “Jesus, doc. You’ve got to do somethin’. My back is killin’ me.”
Kat stifled a yawn. “How long have you been in pain?”
“About two weeks.”
Kat was looking at him, puzzled. “Two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”
He tried to move, and winced. “To tell you the truth, I hate hospitals.”
“Then why are you coming in now?”
He brightened. “There’s a big golf tournament coming up, and if you don’t fix my back, I won’t be able to enjoy it.”
Kat took a deep breath. “A golf tournament.”
“Yeah.”
She was fighting to control herself. “I’ll tell you what. Go home. Take two aspirins, and if you aren’t feeling better in the morning give me a call.” She turned and stormed out of the room, leaving him gaping after her.
Harry Bowman’s little motorboat was a sleek fifty-foot motor cruiser.
“Welcome aboard!” he said as he greeted Paige, Kat, and Honey at the dock.
Honey looked at the boat admiringly.
“It’s beautiful,” Paige said.
They cruised around the bay for three hours, enjoying the warm, sunny day. It was the first time any of them had relaxed in weeks.
While they were anchored off Angel Island, eating a delicious lunch, Kat said, “This is the life. Let’s not go back to shore.”
“Good thinking,” Honey said.
All in all, it was a heavenly day.
When they returned to the dock, Paige said, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” Bowman patted her arm. “We’ll do it again. Anytime. You three are always welcome.”
What a lovely man, Paige thought.
Honey liked working in obstetrics. It was a ward filled with new life and new hope, in a timeless, joyful ritual.
The first-time mothers were eager and apprehensive. The veterans could not wait to get it over with.
One of the women who was about to deliver said to Honey, “Thank God! I’ll be able to see my toes again.”
If Paige had kept a diary, she would have marked the fifteenth of August as a red-letter day. That was the day Jimmy Ford came into her life.