Carolyn McSparren - The Money Man

“I know it’s been years since you supervised a construction project personally—at least a penny-ante one like the clinic.” Coy sounded plaintive. “I need you to do this for me, son.”

“Construction’s almost finished. You don’t want a construction supervisor. You want an on-site CFO to deal with the problems while you wine and dine and avoid Margot’s telephone calls.” Mark sighed. “Last time I checked, I still work for you.” Mark stood. “Okay, I’ll keep up with things here and check on the clinic at night.”

“I wouldn’t ask…”

“Sure you would.” Mark walked to the door and stood with his hand on the knob. “But too much Margot, and the next time you fire me I may just go.”

“I’LL HAVE TO MAKE THIS FAST,” Rick said to Sarah in front of the assembled people in the break room. “This is everybody I could track down at the moment. You’ll have to introduce yourself to the others when you run into them. People, this is Dr. Sarah Marsdon who is going to put our large-animal clinic on the map.”

“I’ll certainly try.” Sarah smiled at the group. “But I’ll need some help and I’ll need a surgery with lights.” She gave Rick a hard look.

Rick looked uncomfortable. “The lights were supposed to be hooked up yesterday. I’ll check.”

“Thanks.” She smiled again and tried to keep her tone light and even. This was no time to air her dirty laundry. “Jack Renfro’s going to harry the contractor.”

“Good. I’ll back him up.” Rick pointed to a tall man with a gray buzz cut who stood over a coffee urn at the back of the room. “That’s Dr. Mac Thorn, the other senior partner. Mac, I introduced you yesterday, remember?”

“I don’t remember anything while I’m operating,” he said grumpily.

Sarah raised her eyebrows. So Dr. Thorn had an attitude.

“Jack Renfro says you’ll assist me if I need help in surgery,” she said.

He nodded and took a sip of coffee.

“This is Bill Chumney, our exotics man. He’s about to get us a very lucrative contract with the local animal refuge, to do all their vet work.”

“Actually,” Chumney said, “I’m a raptor man by preference, but I can handle everything from armadillos to iguanas if I have to.”

“What are the laws about exotics in Tennessee? Can people keep them as pets?”

“The state is extremely strict about issuing permits to people who want to keep local fauna, or zoo animals—big cats, elephants, that sort of thing. Iguanas, reptiles, ferrets, hedgehogs, even sugar gliders—small creatures bred and sold to be pets—are okay. Sometimes Rick and Mac handle them in the small animal section, sometimes I do. And then somebody has to look after the raccoon whose mother got hit by a truck, or a possum with his tail bitten off. That’s why we’re anxious to get the contract with the animal refuge people signed. We’ll handle all the hurt animals the public brings in. And the zoo, too, of course. They have their own staff, but it’s pretty limited.”

“Are you busy?”

“Not yet, but we will be when that contract goes through. That’s my flight cage they’re building outside by Dr. Sol’s research lab.” He glowered at Rick. “It was supposed to be finished, and a damn sight larger, as well. I’ve got an eagle about ready to try his wings. Eagles need space to get lift.”

“Okay, okay. After the lights are up. I promise I’ll check it out.”

Rick turned back to Sarah. “Dr. Sol Weincroft isn’t in today. He’s actually more of a silent partner for the next few months. We’re building him a wing out back for his research in return for financial support from him and the pharmaceutical companies funding his research. He’ll be available in emergencies, but he’s concentrating on research as much as he can. I think you may have met him in Kansas City, Sarah?”

Sarah nodded. “Heard him give a paper on his research on an equine infectious anemia vaccine.”

“And he’s very, very close to success. That’ll be one hell of a feather in our caps.” Rick sighed. “Eleanor Grayson isn’t in, either. She’s part-time and your backup after hours. She was here pretty late last night with a flipped gut.”

Sarah knew Rick meant that one of Dr. Grayson’s charges had a flipped gut—not an unusual occurrence in large breeds of dog. It was a deadly emergency requiring instant surgery—and there was only a fair chance of saving the animal’s life.

“Yeah, and I’ve got a hip dysplasia in twenty minutes,” Mac said. He put down his coffee cup and left.

“Now that the Grinch has departed,” a small blond woman said, “I’m Liz Carlyle. I just graduated from Mississippi State last year. I’m on small animals, but I kind of swing where I’m needed. I really want to go into ophthalmology eventually, but I can’t go back to school until I make some serious money, or until and unless my husband gets one heck of a promotion.” She shrugged and turned pink with embarrassment.

Sarah thought she was very young indeed.

“That’s the current veterinary staff,” Rick said. “We’re piecing out for the first few months with a roster of part-timers from midnight to eight. So far, there hasn’t been much call that late. You’ve met Alva Jean, who handles the desk during the day, does the billing and such. Mabel Halliburton comes in at four, so you’ll mostly be working with her. She kind of mothers us all, and she’s a wonder with the paperwork. Does our ordering, backs up Alva Jean. We’re still hiring kennel and cleanup staff. People keep quitting on us after a week or so. Nobody seems to want to work so hard for minimum wage.”

“Go figure,” Liz whispered.

Rick glared at her. “We’re going to need at least three more vet techs once we’re fully up and running, but at the moment we’re making do with Jack for large and Nancy here for small, and part-timers from other clinics hired on an hourly basis.”

Sarah took the sure, brown hand of the woman who offered it. “Nancy Mayfield. I do anything and everything. At the moment I’ve got to go get Dr. Mac ready for his hip dysplasia.”

“You’re assisting?”

“Yep. I’m better at surgery than Jack. He’s better at post-op. We complement each other.”

The telephone on the wall beside the door rang. Liz jumped. Rick answered it and listened for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, Mac. She’s on her way.”

Nancy Mayfield grinned at Sarah and stood up slowly. Sarah saw her catch her breath. The woman stood for a moment with her eyes closed.

She’s in pain, Sarah thought.

Nancy caught her eye. “Jack and I are a lot alike. He raced, I rode hunters and jumpers in the show ring. We’re both too stiff to do it any longer.” She glanced at her own strong hands. “Nothing wrong with these. It’s my neck that gives me fits. Ah, well, I’d better head on out before Dr. Mac explodes.”

“We’d better all head on out,” Rick said. “Sorry you couldn’t meet everybody at one time, Sarah.”

“That’s okay. If I see anybody in greens with an animal under his arm, I’ll assume he’s a staff member.”

“Nice to have met you,” Bill Chumney said. “Now I’m off to exercise Marvin’s wings for him. This time I think he’s really going to fly.”

The telephone rang again, and Nancy answered it. “I’m coming!” She listened a moment, then turned to the room. “Scratch the dysplasia. We’ve got a couple of bull terriers who’ve just been hit by a car.”

“Damn!” Rick said.

Chairs scraped. Bill Chumney reached the door first. The moment it opened, Sarah heard the howls from the waiting room.

“Oh, God,” Liz whispered. And ran to help.

Sarah ran, as well. She noticed on her way by that Mark Scott stood in the door of his office. “Come on,” she said. “We may need another pair of hands.”