Chapter One excerpt from The Loveable Resident

"December 2016

Rebecca Bartholomew surveyed the crowd as she stood at the threshold of the Ritz Hotel Ballroom. She arrived late, almost an hour late, which she knew would make her father very unhappy. It was about eight o’clock in the evening. There was a hint of snow on the ground. The party was in full blast. People had already had their second courses, and some were already starting to make some efforts at persuading the band to play music that wasn’t so plain and simple.

Rebecca looked about more toward the front dais and saw her father and mother sitting, neither speaking to anyone and looking a bit glum. Sophia, dressed in a dark-blue sheath dress, exposing a great deal of her handsome shoulders and chest—tanned to perfection by the latest trip both had been to—saw Rebecca first. She looked delighted, waved, and then elbowed her husband, nodding toward Rebecca. Bartholomew looked at Rebecca’s direction, and his face seemed to settle into a benign attitude.

Rebecca, clad in a soft-peach gown that had a tight bodice but flared out in a long ballerina-style skirt that had lots of lace, floated toward them and kissed her parents on their respective cheeks.
“Hello, Mum and Daddy,” she said in a breathless voice. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Perfectly fine, Rebecca,” Bartholomew said in a calm voice. “Have you any dinner yet? They have something coming up. Salads and first course have already come and gone.”

“They say it’s the roast rib or something like that with some sort of kale side salad,” Sophia said with a slight wince.

“The Ritz is serving kale?” Rebecca said with a snort. “Whatever did your budget make them do that, Daddy?”

“It’s not my budget, Rebecca. In fact, I had nothing to do with it. It was all a committee thing,” he said quickly. “I’m just the figurehead.”

Sophia glanced at her husband. “You’ll hear about it on Monday, I am sure.”

“Kale isn’t that bad,” he replied blandly. “In fact, I recommend it to my heart patients.”

Rebecca tried to suppress a cackle. “Well, I will look forward to having my roast pig and kale then. Wonder if their chef has decided to go Southern?” She slid into her chair and then pulled the napkin over her lap. The waiter came, and she accepted a glass of white wine. They listened to the music.

Rebecca espied a duo of medical men standing by the doorway. One was fair haired and tall; the other was dark haired with a twisted smile on his face. She eyed them as she sipped her wine.

“Daddy, who are those two? By the door?”

Bartholomew followed her gaze. He recognized them. “They’re both in my surgery program. Both rather good. The fair-haired man is Mike Oates. The other is Ralph Corcoran. Neither of them are suitable for you.”

Sophia frowned. “Oh, Leo, why are they unsuitable? Is it because both are just like you in one way or another?”

Bartholomew drew back and stared at his wife. “Do you think that? What makes you think that? Have you met either one?”

“No, not exactly. Both were here earlier to help with setting up and such. I think Dr. Oates is somewhat of a cavalier, and his friend Cor, as they call him, is too much a playboy. He seems to be involved with bookies and such.”

“Neither of these men are me at all, my love,” Bartholomew complained, looking pained. “No, not now, but they have that ambitious light in their eyes.”

Rebecca looked at the men again and said, “That Ralph looks rather delish.”

Sophia looked at her with alarm. “I am sure that there are better doctors with better reputations than those.”

Rebecca said nothing, and when the third course arrived, she settled down to have a good meal. It was no surprise to either Bartholomew parent that when the dancing started, Rebecca was already on the dance floor, dancing with a friend who worked in her office. She danced well enough, and her mother felt satisfied that her daughter was enjoying herself. It wasn’t long when Sophia looked again at the dance floor and saw that Rebecca was dancing with Dr. Ralph Corcoran.

The dance was a slow one, and they both seemed to be in good spirits and enjoying the conversation. Sophia scanned the ballroom and saw that Dr. Oates was equally involved with a pretty brunette, dancing with a great deal of intimacy. Sophia felt a stir of anger at Dr. Oates for some strange reason.

Her husband leaned over and asked her, “Care to dance? Sounds like a nice tune.” She stood up, and they both walked hand in hand to the dance floor.

“It is a nice tune. ‘Autumn Leaves,’ if I recall,” Sophia said. Bartholomew liked the feel of his wife in his arms and smiled. He was hardly in his element, but his wife’s presence calmed him and gave him something to think of that wasn’t about medicine or surgery.

“Did you notice Rebecca’s partner?” Sophia asked, muffled against his shoulder.

“No, why? Who is it?”

“Dr. Ralph Corcoran.”

“Are you nervous for her? Really, my dear, she’s grown up now and has had enough of men to know when to kick them out.”

“Well, he makes me nervous.”

“Better him than that Mike Oates,” he said shortly.

“Oh?”

“Never saw a man more on the make.”

“Well, you once were like that, remember?”

“Well, yes.” He was silent for a moment. “But I suppose I hid it better than him.”

“Don’t tell me that your supervisors were ignorant of your ambitious nature. I think they encouraged it. Didn’t they?”

“Well. I was damn good and still am.”

 “OK, so you also were fond of tooting your horn.”

“OK, so I did, and I was ambitious. But Oates is something else. I’m thinking if he isn’t careful, he’ll be in a pile of shit one day.”

“Leo!” Sophia raised her face at him. Then she saw his face and then sighed. “I hope he doesn’t pull everyone he works with down with him. The hospital can’t have a scandal.”

Her husband looked thoughtfully at nothing in particular. “I’ll be the one to make sure he doesn’t.”

Mike Oates stood by the french doors of the ballroom and enjoyed the cold sweep of winter wind that enveloped his body. He did not flinch as he enjoyed cold winter sports. He would rather run in the cold than in the heat of summer. He also liked the winter mostly because he could make many excuses about not doing anything with his friends who wanted to go out and drink. Mike Oates preferred to do indoor sports, and one of them was to be in bed with his current woman, whoever that may be at any stage of his adult life.

“Enjoying the solitude?” A cool voice came to his ears.

“Yes, actually.” He turned and beheld Missy before him. She was in a black gown, cut low in the front and back, leaving nothing to the imagination. Before he said another word, he looked behind her and saw the disapproving face of Mrs. Sophia Bartholomew.

Mike turned slightly to pull Missy out of view and took her out to the balcony.

“Oh, it’s awfully cold, Mike!”

“Don’t you enjoy it?” he asked mildly.

“No, I like warm. Come and dance with me, please.”

“I’m all danced out.”

“We haven’t had more than one dance.”

“OK, let’s go in then. But I can’t stay.”

She looked apprehensively at him. “Why? It’s a great party. Food and wine and what else could anyone want?”

Mike looked at her and then didn’t see her at all. He had a problem that night that made him wonder if this was all it was going to be.

“No, it’s not enough, Missy.”

“Well, let’s pretend that we are having fun, shall we?” She let him pull her into his arms. He danced woodenly, and seemed not to be interested in the music.

“Mike, what about if we left early, then? Let’s go to your place.”

“It’s not possible.”

“No? Why not? We haven’t gone out and done our loving for a few weeks now. What’s the matter?”

“Missy, I think I need to—” He saw Bartholomew behind her, and they locked gazes.

Mike tried to smile but found it hard to. “Listen, I’m going to probably need to go on a vacation. I have to find another position in surgery.”

“Why? Don’t you think you’ll get the chief resident post?”

“Tripp hates me. Bartholomew doesn’t seem to give a damn about me. I’m not sure I’m welcome here anymore.”

“Oh, Mike!” She looked sad. “I will find some way to help you, honest! Just try to stay for now.”

 “Who’s going to help me that you know?” His eyes were alert.

“Who?” Missy was coy. “Oh, I know a lot of important people, Mike.”

He looked intrigued. But he felt the stare of Bartholomew at his back.

“Let’s see . . . why don’t you and I go someplace quiet?” Mike asked suddenly. Missy looked triumphantly at him. “Let’s do!” Mike took Missy’s arm and led her out of the ballroom, feeling as though the hounds of hell were following him. "

(c) Mary Faderan 2017, 2019