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TRYING TO BALANCE HER groceries and case of water in one hand, Charity slipped the key into her apartment door with the other. She had met the moving company earlier. It hadn’t taken long to unpack and all that was left were five clothing suitcases in her bedroom. She then ran out to grab food for dinner and breakfast in the morning.
She kicked the door shut with her foot and glanced around. It was a studio apartment with a double size living room which opened to a modern kitchen. Light grey stained wood covered the floors and the two rooms were painted a soft white.
Very bright. And very empty.
That had been done on purpose. A leather antique psychologist coach was set against the far wall, mirrors covered another wall and a high tech stereo system took up most of the space on the last wall. The only remaining wall had windows and a door to a simple balcony.
Charity slipped off her shoes and padded on bare feet to the kitchen. She set the case of water down on the breakfast bar and quickly put away the groceries. Before putting the water under the table, she grabbed the remote beside the case and turned the stereo on. The tall speakers came to life and Charity reached for a bottle from the case. As she strolled to her bedroom, her fingers tapped the music’s beat against the plastic water container. By the time she reached her room, she was full out dancing.
She changed into tights and a sport top, then headed back to the living room. She had been dancing since she was six. Her mom had encouraged her to try every form of dance and she loved them all. Somehow all the different types of dancing had rolled into her own artistic interpretation and she was phenomenal at it, but very few people knew. It came in handy during the galas and dinners if someone asked her to dance and she could surprise guests.
Dancing was her workout, her stress reducer, her fun time and her down time.
An hour and a shower later, she started cooking dinner. Munching on a carrot, the little red light flashing on the phone caught her attention. She flipped her screen on and saw several emails from Amanda with attachments, an email confirming the paint and furniture for her office would be delivered in the morning and her father had called about ten minutes prior.
He hadn’t left a message so she pressed the button to call him, putting him on speaker so she could continue cutting vegetables.
“Dr. Thompson.”
“Dad, it’s me.” Charity tried not to roll her eyes. He had caller ID so he knew it was her.
“Charity. How can I help you?”
She shook her head. “You phoned me earlier and tried again a bit ago. I was in the shower and just saw the missed call. I assume you wanted to talk to me.” No how are you doing or how’s Atlanta?
“Oh yes. I did. I was going to have my secretary call but I knew you’d say no if she asked.”
Charity set the knife down. She didn’t want to stab her phone. “Nice, Dad. I really appreciate you starting a phone conversation on the negative. Why don’t you just ask me what you need and I’ll let you know what I think?”
“Fine. I’m turning sixty-five next year.” He paused.
“I know.” A strange thought crossed her mind. She never assumed he would, but what if... “Are you retiring?”
“Hell, no! I’m more than competent as a doctor, probably still better than most of the doctors I know.”
No lie there. He was one of the best doctors in the country, even had a hospital named after him. “I didn’t think you would, but why the phone call just over six months before your birthday?”
“The hospital wants to make a big deal with it. I guess they need to. I said I would take care of it since I don’t want it to be about me. I want the focus on something else.”
She had no idea where he was going with this.
“I was wondering...” He swallowed and a quick sigh echoed through the phone. “We’d like to hire you to do the party.”
She blinked in surprise. He hated her job and always made sure she knew how disappointed he was that she’d dropped out of med school. “I’m not a party planner.”
“You don’t organize parties and plan big events?”
Good point. “I do but they are for hospitals wings, additions, equipment. The galas are to raise money for non-profit issues hospitals need.” Not some retirement party where the birthday dude wasn’t even retiring.
“Exactly. That’s what I—what we want to hire your for. To make money for some new equipment at the hospital. My milestone age marker is just the excuse to do it.”
Charity tapped her fingers against her lip as she thought. It was actually a very good idea. Everyone knew and liked her father. He never made a fuss about himself publicly so a lot of doctors from all over the country would fly in for the night. Plus the countless patients whose lives he had saved. It was a great idea.
So why her?
“I’ve just signed a two year contract down here in Atlanta. I can’t drop everything for them for six months and help you. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“I’m not expecting anything spectacular. It’s fine. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
Giving up that easy? That wasn’t her father. That competitive side of her kicked in. He didn’t think she could do spectacular? Boy was he in for a surprise. “How much money are you hoping to raise?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How much?”
“A hundred thousand would cover half the price of the equipment in the emergency room.”
“Your gala could easily raise quadruple that.”
He scoffed. “Really?”
“Easy.” She thought about going back home. Did she want to? Part of her did. The kid in her wanted to prove to her father that she was good at her job. That she deserved to be patted on the head and told she’d done a good job. That her career change hadn’t been a bad choice. “Look. If you can handle working on the weekends for this, I can do it. The flight to NY from Atlanta is direct. It’s only a one night gala. I can work online from here and fly up twice or month or whatever to get it set there.” Six months wasn’t that long.
“You’ll do it?” The surprise in his voice made her smile.
“Sure. I’ll have to come up this weekend to find a location. It’s going to be a time crunch but it’ll work.”
“Perfect.” Scribbling of a pen made its way through the phone. “I need to go. Duty calls.”
“Life of a doctor. I’ll meet you at the hospital Friday afternoon sometime. I’ll email you my flight details.”
“I can send someone to pick you up.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be easier if I rent a car.”
“Sounds good.” He paused. “And thanks, Charity.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stared at the phone after her father hung up. What had she just gotten herself into?
