The man sitting beside her chuckled. “You know she has ears, Jim. You were never going to get that past her.”
Paul Huisman had a slight French accent, having been born and raised in Quebec. In the beginning she’d found it magical. She’d considered the idea that they might be good friends, the type who talked in bed and stuff. But she’d been on a sexual sabbatical. She’d promised to give herself two years after her divorce to get her head on straight, and that had proven to be a godsend. Sleeping with Paul would have been disastrous. He was fastidious and fussy, everything she didn’t want in a man. He’d also been angry when his father had passed him over in favor of her when he’d named a new lead in Neurological Research. They were friendly, but she knew he’d sent a report to his father detailing all the ways she wasn’t right for the job. Still, so far he’d backed her up when she needed him.
She glanced down at the preliminary reports on the new drug they were testing. It had been a long shot in the first place, but Jimmy Lao, while young and shiny, was also incredibly smart and one day might revolutionize drug therapy for stroke survivors.
But this was only his first try, and it wasn’t going to work.
“Extreme hair growth in female patients,” she pointed out. “According to this, some of them actually grew beards.”
“Don’t forget the chest hair.” Paul was shaking his head. “And why on earth would it cause the urine to turn pink?”
“Some of them were hairy to start with, and it was really more of a magenta color. At least it was according to the women in the group. They were very precise about the color. I thought pink covered it. I think it was a side effect of the high beet content in the supporting meds.” Jimmy bit back a frustrated groan. “Sorry. It seemed to work well in the rats. I’ll be honest, it’s not as effective in humans. It’s not doing anything I hypothesized. The results were roughly the same as the drug therapies we use now.”
She stood up and moved around to the young man. She knew how it felt to fail. Sometimes she thought it was her primary job. But it was important to pull yourself up off the floor, shake off the dust, and try a-freaking-gain, as she often told her kids. “This is your first try. It never works the first time. This, my friend, is the start of many, many failures. I want you to think of them as another brick in the yellow brick road. You get me?”
He stared at her like he wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Not a big Wizard of Oz fan, then. “So I’m not getting fired? Because you read the part about the homicidal thoughts, right?”
“I’m fairly certain if I’d started growing hair between my toes, I would have homicidal thoughts, too.” She’d discounted those. It had only been two subjects, and all the murderous intent had been aimed toward Jimmy. Totally understandable. “Go back to the drawing board. And check and make sure all your patients go back on normal therapies. Follow up with their primary doctors and ask them to continue to check in with us so we’re certain there are no long-term effects.”
His shoulders came down from around his ears. “Thank you, Dr. Walsh. I’ll do that. And I’ll get my team back to the drawing board. We learned a couple of things this time around. I wrote it all up for you and would welcome any notes or ideas. Thanks, Dr. Huisman.”
He practically bounced out of the room.
“Was I ever that young?” Paul asked with a long sigh.
“I think I am that young and I’m asking myself the same question,” she admitted. She glanced up at the clock. Almost time to go home. She would sign all the paperwork she needed to sign, say the same things she always said—have a great evening, lots of plans, don’t party too hard—then she would get on the subway and go three whole stops to Spadina, get off the subway, walk exactly eight hundred forty-two steps to her building. She would get her normal Wednesday dinner order of a chicken salad sandwich and chips. She would ignore the bar next to the bistro with its too loud music and boisterous university students. She wouldn’t think about the fact that they were in there eating poutine—which sounded disgusting and gross, and god she wanted some because it was delicious—and she would go up to her lonely apartment. She would turn on the news and eat her dinner and tell herself that this weekend she would do something fun.
She would end up right back here. She would work all weekend.
It was time. It was time to stop worrying about making another terrible decision and…probably make another terrible decision. Anything was better than standing still.
“Have you thought about the fact if you weren’t in charge of a whole department, you might have more time for a life?” Paul asked.
They were back to this? “I have more control over my research this way.” She shoved the paperwork into her briefcase. It was time to start her sad schedule. She certainly wasn’t going to break it so Paul could try to talk her into giving up her position. Again. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I might be a little late.”
Maybe she would stop and have breakfast. There was a place down the street that had an all crepe menu she’d been meaning to try.
He leaned back in his chair. He was an attractive man in his late thirties with chestnut-colored hair and intelligent eyes. “You’ll be here by seven o’clock tomorrow.”
“Probably. I do need to check on Mickey and Minnie.” She shouldn’t even try to fool herself. She wouldn’t go sit down for breakfast. She wouldn’t spend her weekend sight-seeing. She’d been living in Toronto for two years and she’d barely gotten out of The Annex. For a wild day, she would head over to the University of Toronto and give a guest lecture.
The days were starting to seem endless. And bland. At first her “sabbatical” had been good for her. She’d healed from her divorce and gotten into the swing of her new work. She’d concentrated on her research and the charity she and Melissa and Dad had started. But now it was wearing on her…and that was good, too. It was good to want something.
“You have interns to do that,” he pointed out, standing up and preparing to go as well. “We just brought on four more. I hired them myself. Two women and two men. One of the guys is interesting, a bit older than our usual. Tucker is a second-year medical student. He’s not a moron, so I’m sure he can make sure your rats are still alive overnight. He could even check on them over the weekend.”
It was precisely why they had student interns. “Let’s see how it goes.”
“All right, I know a no when I hear it. Well, I’ve got to get to Emmanuel’s school. There’s been another incident with that boy. I swear that Parker kid is a terrible influence on my son.”
She kind of thought it was nice Emmanuel had found a friend. He was a weird kid, but then she’d been one, too. Something about him though…there was an odd darkness in the kid even though he was barely seven years old. “Don’t be too hard on him. It’s rough being the smartest kid in class. He’s younger than the rest of them, right?”
“Only by a year,” Paul replied. “He’s bored. He should have been promoted to a proper grade for his intelligence, but his mother…well, she’s against it. I barely managed to get her to agree to let him move forward a single class. You were lucky you and Gary didn’t have children when you divorced.”
Yes, lucky. Not that Gary had wanted children with her. He’d wanted her help in getting his career off the ground, and then he’d left her for his intern.
She wondered if this Tucker kid was handsome. After all, it wasn’t like she was looking to get married again. A good time though…
They walked toward the doors and she shook off the ridiculous thought. She was not dating another doctor.
“Have a good evening, Rebecca,” Paul said with a nod as he took himself down the opposite hall.