Chasing Perfect (Fool's Gold #1)(84)
Here came the but.
“But we have some concerns. While Fool’s Gold is a great town, it’s small and you already have one hospital. We’re concerned we won’t have enough of a workforce to support the new hospital and we didn’t see much in the way of community support.”
The need to scream grew, but she forced herself to breathe deeply and calmly. “Dr. Daniels, we have a very well-educated workforce and a community that is beyond eager to embrace the new hospital.”
“I’m sure you think that’s the case, Charity—”
“I don’t think it, I know it,” she said, interrupting him. “And I can prove it. Please give me one more chance with the committee.”
There was a long pause. “I’ll give you that because you’ve impressed me from the beginning. However, I’ll warn you, we’ve already voted on the other site.”
“Then I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” she said, determined to sound positive when she felt crushed inside.
“Friday,” Dr. Daniels said. “Nine o’clock.”
“I’ll be ready.”
They hung up. Charity staggered to the sofa and collapsed, then covered her face with her hands.
Three days. She had three days to find a miracle. Three days to come up with a way to convince the hospital committee that yes, there was plenty of local support, not to mention a trained workforce. She’d already provided plenty of statistics, shown them Fool’s Gold, offered tax and housing incentives. What was left?
“Not good news?” Marsha asked when she returned to her office.
Charity briefly outlined what had happened. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “We were so close. I know they liked our town better, so why are they balking?”
“Is the other city larger?”
“Yes. It’s about twice the size, but it doesn’t have any of our charm. The location isn’t close to this nice, they don’t have a better trained workforce and I know we’re more enthusiastic than they are. Why won’t they believe me?”
“I guess you’re going to have to show them.”
“How? How do I prove something they’ve already seen but won’t believe?”
“Give them proof they can’t ignore.” Marsha patted her arm. “Ask, Charity. Ask for what you want.”
For someone used to being in complete control, the concept was impossible to imagine, let alone do. “How?”
Marsha gave her an enigmatic, grandmotherly smile. “You’re going to have to trust me,” she said. “And the town.”
Trust someone with her future? Her job? “What if I can’t?”
“Take a leap of faith. Let us surprise you.”
GERALD SATERLEE WAS AN annoying sonofabitch, Josh thought as he pushed himself to ride faster. Sweat poured down his back, his legs ached, but he wasn’t about to let some second-rate French racer beat him during a practice run.
Saterlee had shown up in Fool’s Gold the day before, a week ahead of anyone else arriving for the race. He claimed to want to acclimate, but Josh knew better. The bastard had been sent ahead to check him out and report back. The world of racing wanted to know if Josh Golden still had it.
A smart strategy would be to let Saterlee beat him easily so no one would have any expectations. That had been Josh’s plan. But as soon as they started riding, he’d felt his competitive nature kick in. He couldn’t do it—couldn’t let Saterlee think he was better.
They continued up the hill, most of the high school racers falling back. Brandon kept pace, but he was fading fast. Josh looked up at the few miles of hill left and knew that it would just be him and Saterlee in a few minutes.
Sure enough, a mile short of the peak, Brandon slowed. “Sorry, man,” he yelled.
Josh waved at him and continued to pump his legs.
His body had been honed for this, he told himself. He’d been riding every day for the past two years. He’d worked out in the gym, strengthening every part of him. While his brain had been busy healing, his body had been preparing for a comeback. Now he would find out if he’d managed to pull it all together.
As they closed in on the highest point in the road, Josh felt that magic surge of energy. The sense that there were plenty of reserves, that he could ride forever. He glanced at Saterlee and saw exhaustion in his eyes. Josh knew he wasn’t just winning. This was better—it was certainty.
He slowed suddenly and reached down to rub his calf. As if something hurt. He bent his head to hide any hint of satisfaction. Saterlee looked back, grinned like an idiot and rode on. Josh watched him go.
Word would spread quickly. They would say he wasn’t what he’d once been. That the comeback was about ego rather than ability. They would speak of him sadly, with respect, but on the inside they’d be pleased.
He could live with that, he told himself. Because on the day of the race, he would kick their collective asses. And then he would walk away, having won it all. It was going to be a good day.
THE TV STUDIO WAS exactly as Charity remembered, only this time she was the one being interviewed, not Josh. And there was no one salivating to have sex with her. Probably a good thing, she thought. She was freaked out enough about the possibility of losing the hospital. The idea of having to deal with an aggressive suitor would probably push her over the edge.