Free Roping the Wind by Kate Pearce

outside candidate might be able to bring new funding and new academic status to the hospital and these days that was vital for the future of any teaching facility. Despite Peter’s comments, Helen knew that nepotism and favoritism were alive and well at every single medical institution in the country. ‘When will I have to make the decision to enter the race?’
    He dropped his pen. ‘Are you suggesting you might not want the job after all? You would be the youngest female orthopedic department head in the country.’
    Helen got to her feet. ‘I’m just asking when the job will be available so that I can make a reasoned decision.’
    Peter stood up too, his gaze cool. ‘I’ll make sure they notify you through the official channels. It shouldn’t be more than a week or so.’
    She nodded. ‘I appreciate you thinking of me, Peter, and I’ll certainly do my best to impress the selection committee if I decide to go forward.’
    ‘I thought better of you, Helen. I thought your ambition had no limits.’
    She paused at the door but decided not to answer him. In the last few years she’d learnt that ambition and material success were no substitute for her sense of honor. Before he could repeat his remark, she shut the door and headed into the outer office. Peter’s secretary, Clarice Hill, gave her a friendly wave which almost stopped Helen in her tracks. Clarice normally treated her with complete contempt. Perhaps she was worried Helen would be her new boss. Helen made sure to smile extra sweetly as she passed by. If she got the job, Clarice would be out on her ear five seconds later.
    At least Peter had been brief. Helen glanced at her watch. She had fifteen minutes to get something to eat before she needed to be back at her clinic. Sometimes she wished her job was less stressful but when she helped a patient like Mrs Hutton regain function of her arm, it made it all seem worthwhile.
    The vending machine obligingly coughed up a BLT sandwich, which Helen took back to her desk. Five sticky notes now adorned her phone. Three of them said to call Carol. Dammit, she’d forgotten to put her cell on again. Helen unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. Her years as a resident had left her with a cast-iron stomach and the ability to eat anything that stood still long enough to be devoured.
    But today she had to force herself to eat. Did she want a promotion? After the series of academic papers she had co-authored with Professor Hart while still in training, she’d become something of a celebrity within the medical community. Some had openly doubted that a young attractive woman could possibly have come up with the idea for the new implant plastic formula by herself.
    She stopped chewing. And those doubters would be right. Not that the gossip was correct. The idea hadn’t come from Professor Hart either. Helen stared at her sandwich as the old familiar guilt swamped her. She should have contacted Robert Grant and told him what she’d done long ago.
    She dialed Carol’s business number and continued to munch the slightly soggy bread and greasy bacon without complaint. She swallowed quickly as Carol picked up.
    ‘Hi, what’s up?’
    ‘Professor Hart is thinking about retiring and he wants me to apply for his job.’
    ‘Oh wow. That’s good, right?’
    Helen swallowed a lump of sandwich. ‘I’m not sure. Can you come over tonight?’
    Carol chuckled. ‘Of course I can. That’s why I called you earlier. Your cell was off. I’m waiting for all the gory details of your date.’
    ‘What date?’
    ‘You mean you didn’t go?’
    Helen grinned at Carol’s outraged tone. ‘I went. It just slipped my mind. Or maybe I’m just messing with your head.’
    ‘Very funny. I won’t be bringing that pie I made for you now.’
    Helen’s mouth watered and she glanced down at the sad remains of her sandwich. ‘You made pie? From scratch?’
    ‘Buttermilk pie.’
    ‘Did I ever tell you that you are the smartest and prettiest