The Promise of Change

Chapter 5



Tiptoeing down the carpeted hallway, Sarah attempted to pass Patricia’s door unnoticed. It was so quiet. None of the typical office chit-chat, laughter, or doorway conversations.

“Sarah, can you step into my office for a moment.”

Damn. How did she do that? Either she had x-ray vision or spy-cams in the hallway. Sarah’s vote was for x-ray vision.

“I’m headed to a meeting with the Chief of Surgery,” Sarah said, half in, half out of the doorway.

“He’ll understand.” Patricia smiled, but the light never reached her eyes.

“But—”

“It’s important.” Patricia’s false friendly tone turned to steel.

Sarah sat gingerly in the chair across from Patricia’s desk, as if afraid she would absorb the taint of evil just by touching the furniture.

“On some level, however conventional, you’ve always been a woman of taste.” Patricia gave Sarah’s traditional black suit and crisp white blouse the once-over. “I need you to help me select a paint color for my office redo.” She displayed several paint chips as she spoke.

“I’m late for a meeting with Dr. Pendleton, and you want me to help you select paint colors?” What the hell did she care what color Patricia painted her office. She could paint it hot pink and black to match her Chanel suit for all Sarah cared.

Patricia sniffed. “Well, if you think meeting with Dr. Pendleton is more important than helping your new boss settle in, I suppose you’d better go.”

Sarah took a deep breath, hoping the action would help avert the scathing remark she so desperately wanted to deliver. “Patricia, I’d be happy to help you select a paint color as soon as my meeting is finished.”

“Never mind. The moment has passed.” Patricia paused, wearing a petulant expression. “I was hoping you and I could bond over redecorating schemes, but I can see now that I was wrong.”

Give me strength, Sarah thought.

“Sarah, I don’t know why you hated me in law school when I tried so hard to be your friend. It’s clear to me that those feelings have not dimmed over the years.”

What the hell was she talking about? Sarah struggled to mask her dumbfounded reaction. Tried to be her friend? By spreading rumors that she’d slept with one of her professors? By telling everyone that she was pregnant? She couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that.

“Patricia, your statement couldn’t be further from the truth.” Sarah tread carefully. “Our relationship has been one of the most memorable of my three years in law school.”



Sarah put the finishing touches on the cheese plate she’d thrown together. Leave it to Sam to phone at the last minute.

Samantha Bethancourt, Sarah’s college roommate, called from the plane to tell Sarah that she’d been flying back to New York from Miami, via Jacksonville, when she decided to take a detour and see Sarah. Never mind that Sarah might have had plans, or even been out of town. Spontaneity was one of the things Sarah loved about Sam. So different from herself.

The doorbell rang. Right on time. For all her flighty impetuousness, Sam was artlessly punctual.

Amid squeals of delight, Sarah and Sam hugged, complimented, and fawned over one another.

“How long has it been?” Sam asked, as she shrugged out of her suit jacket and slipped off her pumps, before gratefully taking the glass of Chardonnay Sarah offered.

“Four years.” Actually, it’d been since Sarah’s wedding.

Realizing her faux pas, Sam sat next to her on the couch. “Sar, I’m so sorry about you and Adrian. I know it must have been difficult. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Sarah popped a grape in her mouth before continuing. “I’ve moved on.” Sort of.

“Great house.” Sam got up and wandered her spacious living area with its warm, English antiques, soft colors, and traditional brass fixtures, stopping to look out through the French doors at the English garden in full bloom. “Still love all things English, I see.”

“How’s the job?” Sarah asked.

“It’s great. Just came from Miami where I signed a new author.” Sam was a literary agent with a large agency in New York. “We don’t usually go to our authors, but she’s a quadriplegic. Does all of her typing holding a pencil in her mouth. Amazing perseverance. And she’s going to be big, you wait and see. The next J.K. Rowling.”

Sam circled back to the couch and, plopping down again, spun to face Sarah. “How about you? How’s your job?” At Sarah’s groan, Sam said, “Uh, oh, tell me all about it.”

Pouring herself another glass of wine, Sarah recounted the mess her work life had become in just a few short weeks.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Do? I’m going to keep plugging away. What else can I do? There’s really nothing else here. I don’t want to go into private practice, and I don’t want to leave my home.” After all the moves during her childhood, Sarah had finally put down roots, and she wasn’t willing to pull them up again.

“That’s too bad. We have a position coming open.” Sam must have seen a spark in her eye, and pushed a little harder. “It’s an entry level position, but it’s a great way to get your foot in the door. It’s a lot of work, but you’d love it, and you’d be great at it, especially with your legal background.”

Sarah bit her lip, tempted. A fresh start, away from the Bitchkrieg.

“And, as an added bonus, we’d get to work together.”

Sarah had to admit it sounded great, getting paid to read novels, but she couldn’t make yet another career change. More importantly, she couldn’t make yet another move. “I won’t say it isn’t tempting, but, no, I’ll stick it out here.”

After a beat or two, Sam asked, “Whatever happened to that manuscript you wrote in college? It was good. In fact, as I recall, it was very good.”

Sarah had forgotten about her attempt at writing an Austen-style novel. She’d just finished a course on Austen, and was hell-bent on becoming a writer. That is, before her father talked some sense into her. “It’s probably up in the attic somewhere.”

“You should pull it out again.” At Sarah’s eye-rolling smirk, Sam continued. “You’ve got a real gift, and you shouldn’t squander gifts.”

“You’re getting preachy on me.”

“Sorry, but you wouldn’t believe some of the crap I read, and the kicker is, it gets published. Your work is far better. I’m just saying, think about it.” Polishing off her wine, she asked, “So, how do you plan to entertain me this weekend?”



Carlos opened the door to exit Sarah’s office, laughter in his voice over the client’s last comment about the federal government being ‘here to help’ and ran straight into the cold, imposing visage of the Bitchkrieg. His laughter died a sudden, tragic death.

“Sarah, can I see you in my office?” The ice crackled in her voice as she turned on her heel and marched up the hall.

Sarah and Carlos exchanged a knowing look.

“Sure,” Sarah said to the now-empty door.

After giving Sarah a sympathetic look, Carlos beat a hasty retreat.

“Close the door, and have a seat, while I finish this e-mail.”

Impatiently waiting while Patricia tapped out her e-mail, nails clicking on the keys, Sarah looked out the window at the view that should have been hers.

As if reading her thoughts, Patricia couldn’t resist another dig. “Lovely, isn’t it? Too bad everyone can’t have this view, but then again, with success comes a few perks.”

“Patricia, did you call me into your office to discuss the view?” Sarah knew she shouldn’t poke at the angry beast, but Patricia really got under her skin.

Patricia responded with her icy stare. “No. I called you in here to warn you about your little office romance.”

What the . . .

“Look, as a woman, I understand we all have needs,”—Patricia lips turned up into a snide grin—“and Carlos would get any woman’s motor running, but as your boss, I must instruct you to break off this relationship.”

Patricia examined a bright pink nail as she continued. “You know that fraternization is prohibited by hospital policy, and even if it wasn’t, I would prohibit it by office policy. It’s bad for morale.”

Sarah was too stunned to speak. Maybe Ann and Becca were right. Maybe Carlos did have a crush on her and something in his manner gave it away to everyone but her.

“Oh come now, you can’t be surprised that I discovered your little secret. The way he looks at you, your gestures of kindness to him, just now the two of you behind closed doors, for over an hour.” A well-plucked eyebrow lifted.

“First, of all, I am not having an affair with my assistant. Your conclusions on that point are malicious and unfounded.” She would probably regret this, but she’d had enough.

“The gestures of kindness are those that I display to any colleague, friend, or family member. But how could I expect you to recognize something so foreign to your own skewed view of the world.” Sarah worked up a good head of steam.

“Furthermore, we were behind closed doors for over an hour because we were on a conference call with our outside counsel in D.C. and Dr. Crews about a thorny billing matter.”

“And as for the looks he allegedly gives me, I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about. Carlos is a respected colleague, an excellent assistant, a genuinely kind and warm human being, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t drag his name through the mud like you did Professor Franklin’s.”

Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest. She was probably about to get fired for speaking to her boss like that, but she couldn’t help herself. She was not going to stand by this time and let Patricia make unfounded accusations against her or anyone else in the office.

“Well. My, my, my. Sarah has a little temper. Who knew?” Patricia rose from her chair, and walking around her desk, sat on the front of it, arms crossed. Sarah recognized the action for what was—an attempt to intimidate her, encroach on her space. She held her ground.

“You know I could fire you for your little tirade.” Patricia let that sink in. “But I’m not. You seem to be the only one around here with a backbone, and while I won’t be bullied by my employees, I do appreciate someone who stands up for herself.”

Bullied? There’s the pot calling the kettle black.

“Let me just put it this way, if you’re having an affair with your assistant, then I’m telling you to break it off immediately. If you’re not, then no harm done.” She gave a little shrug, as if she’d accused Sarah of eating the last cupcake instead of having an illicit office affair.

“Let me put it this way.” Sarah rose from her chair as she spoke. “I am not having an affair with Carlos, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make such false accusations in the future. And you’re wrong. There is harm. You’ve harmed not only my name and reputation, but Carlos’ as well.”

“I’m not going to tell Carlos about this. It would be humiliating to him,” Sarah continued. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to him or to anyone else in the office. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get back to work.” Not waiting for a reply, Sarah turned on her heel and left.



Sarah closed her door and slumped into her chair, her hand pressed to her stomach. She couldn’t believe she just chewed out her boss. Never mind that she hated the woman. She’d never even considered speaking to a supervisor in that manner.

Her father taught her and Becca to respect persons in positions of authority. Even when you disagreed. You politely spoke your mind, judiciously argued your point, and if they still disagreed, at least you’d spoken up.

Sarah also knew that letting people push your buttons only gave them power over you, especially people like Patricia, who were always looking for a chink in your armor.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and slowly exhaled, vowing she would remain in control of her temper the next time she had an encounter with the devil made flesh.



Things in the office stabilized. Sarah was able to get back into a routine, albeit a new one, which included a heavy dose of avoidance—avoiding the Bitchkrieg, avoiding private meetings with Carlos where possible, and more importantly avoiding thoughts of her own unhappiness.

Nevertheless, even avoidance was good when it was part of an overall routine. Routine brought comfort, stability, even if it also brought with it monotony.

Amidst the almost constant upheaval caused by the family moves required by her father’s naval career, Sarah’s mother worked hard to establish routines, so that no matter where they lived, there would be little constants.

Mornings were for family breakfast. Afternoons were for homework, chores, and athletic training. Evenings were for family dinners, movie time, or curling up with a book.

Sarah’s participation in athletics kept her life regimented, and of course, as a military man, her father lived and died by schedules.

So was it any wonder that she sought predictability in her life? Still, predicting the next lottery winner would have been easier than predicting what her erratic boss would do next.

The intercom on Sarah’s phone buzzed, making her jump.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sarah, but Patricia would like to see you in her office first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve cleared your morning.” Sarah could hear the sympathy in Carlos’ voice.

Sighing, Sarah said, “Okay. Thanks.” So much for avoidance.



Sarah sat across the desk from Patricia, trying to hide her dismay.

From Sarah’s perspective, the meeting was going worse than all her previous meetings with her boss. She’d been given two options, neither of which she liked.

After tucking a silky brown strand of hair behind her ear, Patricia folded her hands in front of her on her desk and smiled. The disingenuous smile never reached her glacial gray eyes.

“Well, Sarah, I’m sure I’ve given you a great deal to think about. But please, take the weekend to consider it.”

Her supercilious attempt at graciousness set Sarah’s teeth on edge. The Bitchkrieg knew she’d placed her in a difficult position, and clearly she reveled in it.

“Thank you, but I don’t need time to think about it, Sarah said, as she looked into Patricia’s triumphant face. “You leave me no other alternative.”