The Promise of Change

Chapter 3



Dressed in her best Marc Jacobs power-suit, Sarah checked her appearance in the ladies’ room mirror.

The last two weeks had been hectic. Between the aggravations of dealing with the police and the insurance company over the stolen car, and the pressure of polishing her résumé and worrying about what to wear for her interview, she’d barely had time to prepare and practice her responses to the usual interview questions: What unique qualities do you bring to this position? If hired, what would be your first priority?

In a few minutes she’d sit before the selection committee at the boardroom’s barge-sized conference table and do her best to wow them. She’d worked with several members of the board on legal matters, but the stakes had never been this high. The job had grown in importance since Ken first approached her.

The Admiral had been as excited about the possible promotion, as he had been appalled over her car purchase and the car’s subsequent theft.

Her father’s approval had always been important to her. Not that she’d never gained his approval. She could remember countless occasions when her father had been proud of her–when she’d graduated from high school as class Valedictorian; when she’d been accepted to William and Mary; when she’d graduated with highest honors with a degree in literature; and later, when she’d graduated from William and Mary law.

But she could also remember the disappointments–when she’d announced as a college sophomore that she was going to be a writer; when she’d given up on her teaching career after only three years; and of course, when her ill-advised marriage ended in divorce.

Walking to the boardroom, she reminded herself it was these disappointments that made this job so important. It would make her father proud again.

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. At someone’s request to come in, she stepped in and greeted the three board members who served as the selection committee with a warm smile. She was relieved to find that she already knew two of them.

“Welcome, Ms. Edwards.” Mrs. Dillard extended her bejeweled hand to indicate the chair across from them. “Take a seat, and we’ll get started.” As the mayor’s wife, Mrs. Dillard not only served as the city’s first lady, but also the Grand Dame of Jacksonville society.

She introduced Mr. Cheswick to her left, current board president, and Mr. Spalding, to her right, owner and CEO of the city’s largest real estate development company.

Mr. Cheswick, she remembered from her past dealings with him, was a stickler for details, being the head of a large accounting firm, but pleasant and warm.

Mrs. Dillard was the consummate socialite, an ideal politician’s wife, polished, smooth, articulate. But get on her bad side, and you’d never grace the doors of the city’s best country clubs again. Mr. Spalding was an unknown entity. Sarah decided to focus her attention on him.

“Ms. Edwards, why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself.” Mrs. Dillard folded her hands on the table in front of her.

Sarah walked them through her education, her previous career, and her subsequent decision to go to law school, and finally her tenure with the hospital’s legal office.

“What motivates you?”

Sarah turned to Mr. Cheswick to answer his question. “I’ve always been motivated by the desire to do a good job at whatever task I undertake. I want to excel and be successful in my job, both for my own personal satisfaction, and for my employer.”

“You certainly come highly recommended. Ken is always singing your praises.” Mr. Cheswick’s warm smile soothed her jangled nerves.

“What challenges do you expect to face in this job, and how will you handle them?” Mrs. Dillard asked before taking a sip of her coffee.

“I expect I’ll have to juggle many priorities–supervising employees, attending meetings, handling complex legal matters, advising clients, not to mention budgetary concerns, resource availability, among many others. But I am quite adept at prioritizing my responsibilities so I have a clear idea of what needs to be done. I’m a planner.”

After about a half hour of questions, Sarah’s nerves settled down to a low hum. The interview was going well. So far none of the questions had thrown her.

“You’ve been here seven years?” Before she could answer, Mr. Spalding continued. “And Ken was here over twenty years?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes it’s beneficial to bring new blood into an organization. Get a fresh perspective. Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Edwards?” Mr. Spalding wore a smug smile.

The low hum became a dull roar. If she agreed, she’d be arguing herself out of the running. If she disagreed, she would appear self-serving.

“Mr. Spalding, a fresh perspective is crucial to the success of any organization. But so is institutional knowledge. One is not necessarily exclusive of the other.” Sarah paused to carefully formulate her response so that it didn’t cast aspersions on Ken’s managerial skills.

“An individual who has worked in the trenches may offer a fresh perspective when placed in a management position. The individual who gains experience in the day-to-day routine is uniquely situated to bring an understanding of what works well and what doesn’t–what the client likes and dislikes.”

Mr. Cheswick looked impressed, while Mrs. Dillard looked at her watch. Mr. Spalding frowned as he flipped through Sarah’s résumé.

“You don’t have a litigation background.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No. I came to work here after graduating from law school. Health law is mostly regulatory, so Ken didn’t find it necessary . . .” She trailed off, unsure where Mr. Spalding was headed with his comment.

“In today’s litigious society, it would be helpful to have someone with a litigation background.”

“Ken didn’t have a litigation background either, and since our malpractice cases are handled by the risk management department, this office doesn’t generally get involved.”

“Malpractice isn’t the only litigation the health system could face, and an experienced litigator could cut down on our outside counsel bills.”

“Most in-house legal offices don’t handle litigation because it is frequently more cost-effective to hire outside counsel with expertise in the specific legal matter being litigated.” Sarah felt sick. If this is the direction they were headed with Ken’s position, then she didn’t stand a chance.

“The board hasn’t decided yet that this is the direction they would like to go.” After exchanging looks with her fellow board members, Mrs. Dillard said, “Unless you have any additional questions gentleman . . . .” She turned to Sarah. “Thank you for speaking with us today. As you know, we have two more candidates to interview this week. We expect to have a decision by the end of next week.”

Sarah stood and, reaching across the table, shook each committee member’s hand, and thanked them for the opportunity to discuss her qualifications.

Well, Sarah thought as she walked to the door, she’d done her best. Mr. Spalding’s pointed questions had been disconcerting, but she thought she’d handled them well. The concerns over her lack of litigation experience were troubling, but at this point there was nothing left for her to do but wait.



Waiting didn’t come easy to Sarah. She’d always been patient. She’d make plans, and bide her time, methodically taking the steps necessary to achieve her goal. But when things were beyond her control, when there was no longer anything she could do to affect the outcome, she worried. And when she worried, she didn’t eat.

Even the enormous buffet laid before her couldn’t tempt her appetite. The family, which included Ann and her husband and kids, were gathered at her father’s for his sixty-fifth birthday.

The dishes she passed on were a combination of those prepared by her father, who was an artist with the grill, and home-cooked selections from the rest of the family.

The kids splashed in the pool, accompanied by the occasional “Marco” followed by “Polo” as she walked from dish to dish, passing on most of them, and only picking up small portions of the rest.

“Where’s your usual appetite? Ah, fretting over the promotion?” The Admiral laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She looked up into his pale green eyes, lined from years of squinting at the sun aboard aircraft carriers. Putting her hand on his chest, she leaned her head against his strong shoulder. Those shoulders had carried the burden of commanding men, raising a family, and saying goodbye to his one true love—her mother.

“No reflection on your cooking, but yes.” She sighed. “I’ll be glad when they’ve made their decision.”

“I know you will, baby, but can there be any doubt that my girl is the perfect candidate?” He heaped a spoonful of potato salad onto his plate.

“Mr. Spalding didn’t seem too impressed with me.”

“Brett Spalding, of Spalding Development Corporation?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Yep. He’s a real pain in the ass. A little too slick, if you ask me. Met him a few years ago at a party. He tried to schmooze folks into buying into a retirement community he was developing up in St. Simons.”

Piling on mac n’ cheese, he continued. “Not my cup of tea, but he put on the hard sell. Couldn’t take a hint, so I finally had to tell him flat out to take his sales pitch elsewhere.”

Sarah frowned. She hoped he didn’t hold a grudge.

“Have you decided to buy a more sensible car this time?” The Admiral followed her to the picnic table with his heaping plate of food.

She couldn’t figure out where he put all that food. He was still as fit as a thirty-year-old.

“Probably another Volvo.” A civil engineer and diver inspecting the footers of the Matthews Bridge had found her Porsche. Sitting at the bottom of the St. Johns River, feeding the fishes like something out of a mobster movie, nothing left of it but the shell.

“That’s more like my Sarah. Sensible, dependable, and safe.”



Worrying also affected Sarah’s concentration. The contract she’d picked up fifteen minutes ago still lay on her desk. She’d read the same provision over several times and yet couldn’t tell what it said.

It was Friday. A week-and-a-half after her interview. She felt certain they’d make the announcement today. She looked at the clock. Three. If she had to wait another two hours to find out, her head would explode.

Ken knocked on her door.

Oh God, she fretted, this is it.

“Sarah. I’m glad I caught you. May I come in?”

The tentative smile on his face made her gut clinch.

“Sure.”

Hands in his pockets, Ken looked at her framed diplomas, certificates, law license, everywhere but at her. “Sarah, the selection committee has decided to hire from outside the office. They decided to go in a different direction, hiring someone with a strong litigation background.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, until she felt a little light-headed.

“I’m very sorry. I pushed the board hard to reconsider, but Mr. Spalding’s arguments carried the day.”

“Who did they hire?”

“A young lady, Patricia Litchkrieg, from New York, worked for Bachman, Seidel, and Schuster in their commercial litigation division . . .”

Ken’s voice faded into the background as Sarah’s ears filled with white noise. Patricia ‘the Bitchkrieg’ Litchkrieg? The most hated student in her law school class? How could that be? She didn’t even have any experience in health care law. What on earth had the board members seen in her? And how on earth was she going to work for her?



“I have a new boss starting Monday.” Sarah dropped the news like a bombshell. Ann and Becca looked up shell-shocked.

They’d been standing in the middle of the fabric store arguing over whether or not a particular fabric would work in Ann’s recently remodeled dining room. Sarah guessed she had their undivided attention now.

“What do you mean? You didn’t get the job?” Ann grabbed Sarah’s hands.

“I can’t believe it.” Becca paced the aisle. “Those people are idiots for not hiring you.” She stopped in front of Sarah. “Did they say why?”

“They wanted someone with a strong litigation background.”

“Whatever for? Your office never handled litigation before.” Becca paced away, then back. “What did the Admiral say?”

“He’s disappointed.” Again. Would she ever make her father proud?

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Ann rubbed her hand down Sarah’s arm. “Who’d they hire?”

“Patricia Litchkrieg. She’s scheduled a staff meeting first thing Monday morning to meet all of us.” Although she already knew Sarah.

“Wait a minute, why do I know that name?” Ann asked.

“She was in my law school class.”

“Patricia ‘the Bitchkrieg’ Litchkrieg?” Ann asked, eyes round as an owl’s.

“That’s right,” Becca said, gaze narrowed. “She was the snotty little bitch who told everyone she beat you out for the trial team, when in fact you withdrew your application to clerk for the federal judge.”

“Among other things,” Sarah muttered.

“Are you worried?” Ann asked. “You weren’t the best of friends in law school.”

“More like the worst of enemies, but no, I don’t think she’s going to come in and clean house, if that’s what you mean.” Sarah sighed, turning to look at another bolt of fabric. “It’s going to be difficult working for her.”

“Maybe she’s changed, softened over the years.” Ann’s words weren’t exactly comforting. “What’s she been doing?”

“Working for a huge litigation firm in New York. They called her the pitbull.”

“Okay, maybe not. But you do a great job, and your clients like you. That’s got to mean something . . .” Ann offered.

“Well, you’d better put on your best suit and your best game face for your meeting. No point in taking any chances.”

Becca. Always the advisor.