On the phone a few minutes ago, Sebastian hadn’t told her that he’d attempt to set up a meeting with the administrator of Magnolia Avenue Hospital. He’d informed her that he would set up a meeting.
Leah had come across plenty of students and adults during the past ten years of her career who’d talked big and made confident claims, then utterly failed at following through. But Sebastian’s focused demeanor the day of the farmers market and his unhesitating manner over the phone just now gave her reason to believe that he’d find a way to do what he said he’d do.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sebastian did indeed follow through.
He’d texted Leah to ask if the day and time of the appointment he’d scheduled with the hospital administrator would work for her. When she’d said that it would, he’d suggested they meet immediately beforehand at Magnolia Perk, the hospital’s first-floor coffee shop.
Leah had concurred.
Her phone had predicted that it would take her one hour and thirty-eight minutes to drive from her house to Magnolia Avenue Hospital. Doused in mistrust in response to that estimate, she’d left herself a huge cushion of time and arrived twenty-seven minutes ahead of their eleven o’clock meeting. The sun had wrestled with grumbling gray clouds during her drive, but as she gazed out through the hospital’s foyer windows, she noted that it was now, strangely, both bright and drizzly.
She sat at one of the coffee shop’s square two-seater tables, absently drinking the chai tea latte she’d ordered. End of semester finals had concluded the day before last. Yesterday had been a teacher workday. And today was the momentous first day of her summer break. However, vacation ease had yet to arrive because she’d been too busy girding herself mentally for today’s potentially confrontational interaction with the hospital.
Sebastian Grant strode into view, walking purposefully from the parking lot toward the entrance doors, looking for all the world like a man unfettered by anyone else’s opinion of him.
She checked her watch. He was twenty minutes early.
He wore his dark hair cut short and stylishly. His white dress shirt was tucked into an exquisite pair of charcoal suit pants. Black wingtips and a simple black belt completed the look.
Based on his attire, he’d obviously made time in his workday to meet her here. Hopefully no babies with congenital heart defects were having to wait on him while he assisted her with this non-life-threatening pursuit.
He entered, his chin swinging in the direction of Magnolia Perk. She lifted a hand in greeting. He closed the distance, his charisma imposing.
She’d made the right choice when she’d opted to dress up for their appointment in a collared white blouse marked with rows of tiny purple and blue dots, a pencil skirt, and her best pair of heels.
He took the seat opposite hers, instantly dwarfing the table. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
His gaze was intent but not cold. In fact, it warmed her because it communicated resolution. Sturdiness.
“Would you like something from the coffee shop?” she asked. “My treat.”
“Thank you, but no. I’m fine.” He continued to study her. “How are you?”
“I’m well. I’ll be better and better over the coming days, now that the school year’s ended. That takes a lot off my plate.”
“Ben tells me you’re a math genius.”
She laughed at the unexpectedness of his statement.
“I was mediocre at math,” he said.
“I strongly doubt that you were mediocre at anything. Ben tells me that you’re a medical genius.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Harvard Medical School,” she said. “A fellowship at Duke University. Another fellowship at Boston Children’s Hospital. Then a job at Beckett Memorial here in Atlanta.”
“You’ve studied me?” he asked.
“I didn’t become a math genius by shirking homework.”
He chuckled. “So you admit that you’re a math genius.”
“That’s debatable.”
“You graduated from the Program for the Exceptionally Gifted at Clemmons. Received a PhD offer to Princeton. Achieved a master’s degree.”
“I assume you know that I declined the offer to Princeton?”
“I do, but I’m not sure I understand why. Didn’t they offer you a stipend?”
Her lips curved with amusement. “Some people might find that question to be nosy.”
“Do you find it to be nosy?”
“As it happens, no. The elaborate dance of social niceties is confusing to me. Not to mention, a waste of time. I appreciate it when people speak to me very directly.”
“So do I.”
“To answer your question, I was offered a stipend. But even if I could have supported my brother and myself on that amount and figured out a way to squeeze my studies around the priority of raising Dylan, I couldn’t have ripped him away from his home, his therapist, his school, and his friends in order to drag him halfway across the country. He was traumatized enough as it was after my mom left.”
“Do you still plan to get your PhD?”
“Yes. I’ve dreamed of becoming a university professor since I was seven years old.”
“Have you started coursework?”
“Not yet. Years ago, I decided to postpone additional graduate work until after Dylan goes to college.” She inclined her head toward Sebastian. “You certainly didn’t postpone any of your graduate work. You became a full-fledged surgeon a year ago at the age of thirty-one.”
“Yes.”
“Even though most doctors don’t become pediatric heart surgeons until thirty-five or thirty-six.”
“Yes.”
“How many surgeries have you performed in the past year?”
“Three hundred and thirteen. I don’t receive as many referrals as the others, but I’m on call more than they are. I take all the patients that come in during my on-call hours.”
“How many of those three hundred and thirteen survived?”
“All but five.”
She couldn’t fathom carrying five deceased children around on her conscience. Yet he’d saved three hundred and eight. “That equals a mortality rate of approximately one and a half percent.” She made a mental note to research the topic further, but she guessed that a one and a half percent mortality rate for a first-year congenital heart surgeon who operated on very sick, very young patients was excellent. “How many of those didn’t make it because of a physiological problem beyond your control?”
“Three. The other two had postoperative issues, potentially related to how long they were on the pump. Still, I take responsibility for those two because there may have been a technical issue with my work.”
Somehow, she doubted it. She sipped her chai tea and tasted cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg. “The homework you did on me makes me sound very dull. I feel compelled to mention that I’m more interesting and well-rounded than I sound on paper.”
“Oh?” Humor flavored the sound. “How so?”
“I love hiking and planning road trips on a shoestring budget. I occasionally compete in chess tournaments for fun. I’m rebellious because my teachers used to warn me that I needed to learn to do math in my head because I wouldn’t be able to carry a calculator around with me once I became an adult.” She reached into her purse and lifted her graphing calculator just high enough for him to see before dropping it back into the confines and straightening. “Joke’s on them. Now you go.”