THE LAWYER’S OFFICE was unfamiliar. It took three attempts to find the correct street. By the time he got there, his shirt was already sticking to his back.
Vivienne had agreed to come with him. She was wearing a thin, pale green long-sleeved blouse and dark skirt and heels—not her normal attire.
As she stepped out of the car, her long red curls swinging, he could see heads turn in her direction. There was something different about a woman’s walk when she wore heels. Viv didn’t walk. She strode. Every step accentuated the cinch of her waist, the swing of her hips and the curves of her breasts.
His footsteps hesitated and he pushed the thoughts from his head. Nerves. That was what this was. He didn’t think about Viv like this.
She moved to his side, fingers touching his arm and her orange blossom scent dancing through the air towards him. ‘Are you okay with this?’ Her voice was laced with concern.
He sucked in a breath. ‘I have to be. What other choice do I have? We just...never had the chance to talk about anything like this.’ His feet were rooted to the pavement. The air around him felt oppressive.
Viv moved her hand and interlocked their pinkies in their old trade-mark move. She gave him a soft smile. ‘Friends for life,’ she whispered.
He nodded, finding her words reassuring. ‘Friends for life,’ he repeated, and they walked up the stairs to the lawyer’s office.
The man was waiting for them. ‘Pleasure to meet you, Dr Nguyen. I am just sorry it’s under such sad circumstances. I knew your mother and father for many years. I am Henry Quang.’
He had a slight twang of an American accent. ‘Have you always worked here in Hanoi?’ asked Duc.
He shook his head. ‘I have offices in Washington, New York and Hanoi.’ Duc nodded. Now he understood why Quang’s name seemed Westernised. In normal circumstances he would have introduced himself slightly differently but, as Duc had found himself, constantly explaining why in Vietnam surnames, middles names and forenames came in a different order quickly became wearing.
The man gestured towards the seats across his desk. ‘Please, take a seat.’
Duc’s stomach gave an uncomfortable flip. This all felt so final. He’d spent most of the last week living in a weird kind of bubble. He kept expecting his parents to walk back through the door. His father to be sitting in his office. His mother to come beaming down the corridor to tell him about a delivery. Or either one of them to be sitting in the kitchen in the bungalow, sorting out medical cover for one of the other hospitals.
Now, sitting in their lawyer’s office, he knew things were finally coming to a head. This was it. This was where he had to stop playing make-believe.
‘I have to let you know that my mother and father and I never really had a chance to talk about their...plans.’
Quang gave a solemn nod. ‘Believe it or not, Mr Nguyen, that isn’t unusual. In a way, you’re lucky.’ He realised what he’d said and lifted one hand, rapidly shaking his head. ‘No, I didn’t mean it that way at all. What I mean is that your mother and father planned ahead. Because they had responsibility for three different hospitals, they put plans in place.’
Part of him felt relieved. Maybe he’d been wrong to worry about things.
‘Okay.’
Viv gave him a kind of forced smile. It seemed he wasn’t the only one nervous in here.
The lawyer spread some papers across his desk, spinning them around to face Duc.
‘There are a number of properties. The three bungalows in the grounds of May Mắn hospital, the hospital itself. The second hospital in Trà Bồng and the third in Uong Bi. They also have several other properties. An apartment near May Mắn Hospital. A small house in the south of France and an apartment at Canary Wharf in London.’
Duc gave a nod. He knew about all these places.
‘Naturally, the ownership of all these properties passes to you, Duc.’
‘All of them?’ He blinked.
‘Yes, as Khiem and Hoa’s son and heir, you are the only person named in their will.’
Duc gulped. ‘But what about the running of the hospitals? The arrangements? They must have put some provision in place.’
Mr Quang gave a tight-lipped nod. He pulled out a folder from under his desk. ‘Yes, they did leave a number of instructions. Mainly about practical things. Supplies, deliveries, bank accounts. Payroll arrangements and details of their accountant.’ He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘It is all rather complicated.’
Duc leaned forward, trying to drown out the roaring that was currently in his ears. ‘But the hospitals. There has to be some other arrangements. I assumed...’ he ran a hand through his hair ‘...that they’d made some kind of provision—a long term plan. Arrangements for a board of some sort, or an oversight committee.’
Quang shook his head. ‘Maybe they hoped you’d change your mind? Or, as you said, they hadn’t quite foreseen anything like this happening and assumed they would have plenty of time to put those kinds of arrangements in place.’ Quang gave him an almost impertinent look.
‘When I said they’d made arrangements, I was talking about the fact they’d even got around to making a will. Have you any idea how many people don’t get that far?’ He didn’t even wait for an answer to that question before continuing, holding up the folder. ‘This contains most of the essential information you’ll need for the safe running of the hospitals. In most instances this could take months to find.’
He leaned back in his chair but left his hands clasped together on the desk. ‘The legalities of everything, the transfer of rights, et cetera, will, inevitably, take some time. Probably a minimum of six months. You won’t be able to make any major changes or...’ he raised one eyebrow as he looked straight at Duc ‘...or sales until that point.’
A chill passed over Duc. This really wasn’t happening. It just couldn’t be.
‘But what about staffing? I have no obstetrician. If rights don’t pass to me, I’m assuming I can’t advertise posts for staff? And what about the bank accounts and payroll—are the staff supposed to work without getting paid?’
The lawyer gave a smile, shook his head and shuffled some papers. ‘No, no, of course not. There are legal provisions for situations such as these—when there are hospital or medical facilities involved. Your parents had an agreement with the Vietnamese government about providing medical facilities within areas of greatest need. That allows some...’ he pulled a face ‘...flexibility, in order to allow the service to continue. It falls under...’ he lifted his fingers ‘...“emergency service” remit.’
Duc tried to breathe in—even though it felt as if a clamp had just fastened around his chest. ‘That makes sense,’ he muttered. He’d heard about similar arrangements in the past.
The lawyer pulled out some other papers. ‘You can recruit staff in order to maintain service provision.’
Duc shook his head, waiting to see if Mr Quang would say anything else. But silence filled the space. ‘That’s it? Six months until the paperwork is sorted out?’ He knew his voice was rising in pitch, but he couldn’t help it. ‘I can’t stay here. I have a job—responsibilities. I’ve currently left a teaching hospital in Philadelphia without a resident surgeon. I’m part of a programme. A programme I worked very hard to be part of. Backing out now would virtually get me blacklisted from every other programme that exists.’ Panic gripped his chest.
The lawyer seemed nonplussed. ‘I’m sure other staff have family situations that have to be dealt with. If you let them know what’s happened, I think you’ll find they will be quite understanding. And there will be other residencies—other surgical programmes.’
‘Spoken like a true lawyer with no understanding of the medical profession and just how competitive things actually are,’ Duc snapped.
Quang acted as though he hadn’t heard. He pushed a few pieces of paper towards Duc and held a pen towards him. ‘I need your signature on a few items.’
Duc stiffened. Hostility sweeping through him. A hand came over and squeezed his knee. He glanced sideways. He could see the tension in the muscles at the bottom of Viv’s neck. She was trying very, very hard to stay quiet right now. ‘What if I refuse?’
Quang’s eyebrow moved a few millimetres upwards. ‘Your staff won’t get paid. Deliveries of supplies to the hospital will cease, and there will be no budget to pay for all the tests you send to the labs.’
He had him. Of course he did.
Duc snatched the pen from his hand and scribbled his signature on the three pieces of paper. The air in the office was stifling. He had to get out of there. He walked out without another word and strode back down the stairs. He could hear Vivienne’s light footsteps running behind him.
But as he burst out into the bright sunlight, he knew immediately the error of his ways. The heat outside was every bit as warm as in the office. He couldn’t seem to catch a cool breath.
‘Duc!’ Vivienne’s voice was loud behind him and she clamped down her hand on his arm. ‘What on earth just happened in there?’
The heat was starting to get to her hair. It was getting a little frizzy around the edges. And, from the look of Vivienne, she was getting a little frizzy around the edges too. Her mouth was set in a harsh line.
‘My career just divebombed out the window,’ he replied. He glanced around them. ‘Come with me.’ He grabbed hold of her hand and led her across the street to a franchise of a popular coffee chain. The air-conditioning blasted them as soon as they walked through the door. It only took a few moments to order some coffee and cake and take a seat in one of the booths.
Duc could feel the sweat that had emerged on his skin instantly cooling. He undid the button on his collar and pulled his tie down. Viv undid the button on her collar too. Her thin gold chain was nestled against her skin.
Before he could think, his fingers had reached across the table. ‘You still wear that?’
On anyone else, this would be an intrusive move, but with Viv it felt entirely natural. His fingers rested on the chain and gave it a little tug upwards, revealing the gold butterfly with pale blue tourmaline stones in its wings.
Her hand came up and caught the pendant. ‘Of course I still wear it,’ she said sharply.
He’d bought it for her a few years ago for her birthday. It had been an entirely spur-of-the-moment purchase. He’d been walking through a shopping arcade in one of the more prestigious parts of Chicago when it had caught his eye in a window display.
Viv had joked the year before that no man had ever bought her jewellery, but as soon as he’d seen the pale blue in the butterfly’s wings it had reminded him of the blue of her eyes. He’d bought and shipped it that day. It had gone clean out of his head until this very second.
He dropped his hand and gave her a smile. ‘You told me no man had ever bought you jewellery.’
She stared at him for a few seconds. He was well aware of the fact he was avoiding the elephant in the room, and he didn’t doubt for a second that Viv knew it too.
She leaned her head on one hand and dropped the pendant, letting it dangle between the curves of her breasts outlined by her shirt. She lifted her spoon and stirred her cappuccino round and round.
‘No man has.’ Her lips quipped upwards.
He didn’t take the bait. Just stared at the random cakes he’d just bought sitting on the plates in front of them.
Her fingers drummed on the table. ‘I guess this wasn’t exactly what you expected,’ she said softly.
‘Nope.’ The anger was still thrumming through his body. He’d loved his parents dearly, but he’d never expressed any interest in taking over from them at the community hospitals. They’d always known his plan was to be a surgeon. Why on earth would they not have made better plans?
His hands clenched into fists. ‘This is a mess. A complete and utter mess. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this.’ The last word was said through gritted teeth.
Silence encompassed them.
Viv wasn’t normally the type to keep quiet. Whilst she always had a good manner with patients, Duc had seen her stand up to arrogant colleagues, wipe the floor with rude medical students, and question incompetent methods at every turn. One question. That was all she’d asked. He glanced at his watch. They’d been in here more than ten minutes. The fact she’d been this quiet this long wasn’t a good sign.
‘Spit it out, Viv. I feel like I’m dangling from the cliff edge already. Just spit it out.’
Her shoulders went down, and her chin tilted up. He still couldn’t get away from the businesswoman look she was sporting today. He’d always known Viv wasn’t someone to mess with, but today, with the smart skirt, shirt and heels, she looked like she was about to wipe out a whole boardroom.
Or him, at the very least.
She clasped her hands on the table and looked him straight in the eye. ‘I love you, Duc, but it’s time to get a grip on things.’
The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. He opened his mouth to object, but this new ultra-calm incarnation of Vivienne wasn’t finished with him yet.
‘What happened to your mum and dad is awful. Absolutely awful. I admired them, and I know you did too. But they’ve left behind something that matters, Duc. That really matters and if you don’t get a grip, you’re going to ruin everything.’
He knew that. Of course he knew that. But he couldn’t help how he felt deep down inside. He let out a huge sigh. ‘But this was their dream, Viv. Not mine.’ Even the words felt weary.
She shot him a look of impatience. ‘It wasn’t just their dream. This is their legacy, Duc. They’ve done so much good—not just at May Mắn Hospital, but at the other two hospitals as well. Think of all the patients who wouldn’t have had treatment. Diseases picked up, infections prevented by immunisations. Can you imagine what would have happened to all those people if your mum and dad hadn’t dreamed big?’
She was doing the big-picture stuff. The stuff that made him realise how selfish he was being right now. But was it really selfish to work your guts out for ten years to become a surgeon, only to have it whipped away because of a terrible accident and a pile of legalities?
She took another breath and gave her head a small shake. ‘You don’t have the same drive and passion for the hospital that they had. That Lien has. Maybe that’s just because you’ve never seen it in your plans or your future, but...’ she took a breath ‘...plans change. People have to adjust their plans all the time, and now it’s time to adjust yours.’
This was her no-argument voice. He’d heard it before.
‘May Mắn Hospital is an essential part of the community. Starting tomorrow, things are changing. This afternoon we draw up adverts for another midwife, an obstetrician, and for some admin support. You need someone to keep on top of the paperwork for you.’ She put her hand to her chest. ‘I need some assurance that staff are working safely. I’m going to download all the procedures and protocols from the last place I worked. We’ll adapt them.’ She looked him right in the eye. ‘Together. This is your inheritance, Duc. Your responsibility.’
She was right. He knew she was right. She reached over and grabbed a bit of cake from under his nose and took a bite.
He spoke quietly. ‘They inspire me, Viv. Just like they inspire everyone who works with them.’ He grimaced, realising he was still using present tense for his parents. He couldn’t help it.
He kept going. ‘It’s a lot to live up to. What if I’m not as good as them? What if this really isn’t the job for me? I guess—at the back of my mind—I always thought that if I did come back here, I’d be a fully qualified surgeon. I’d have fulfilled my career ambitions. I’d come back here with a whole lot more experience than I currently have. You said yourself—between them—look at the host of things they covered. Not many doctors have the skill set to do that. Medical issues, infectious diseases, surgery, obstetrics, paediatrics. These are all specialist fields.’
He took a deep breath. ‘People who come to work here have heard the reputation. They expect to be inspired by the Nguyens.’ He put his hand on his chest. ‘What if they don’t get that from me?’
She stared out of the window. Her voice was a little wistful, with a tang of slight envy. ‘You don’t get it. You have something. You really have something. Something that can make a difference. Do you know what I inherited from my parents? Probably cancer genes from one and an addictive personality from the other.’
Another punch to the stomach. He got it. He did.
He’d had a family. He’d had years of love and support from his parents. Viv had never experienced anything like that. No wonder she was calling him out.
He hung his head, watching his career in surgery waving goodbye for the time being.
Her voice cut into his thoughts again. Her hand brushed against his. ‘And why won’t people be inspired by you, Duc? I am. Always have been.’ She let the words hang between them for a few seconds. He didn’t really even have time to process them before she started again. ‘And you can’t be miserable.’
‘What?’ Now he frowned.
She pointed a finger. ‘You can’t act as if this is the last place you want to be. You have to be positive. You have to try and get the staff to embrace the changes. If you walk around with a long face, either Lien will end up punching you or I will. This can only work if you make it work.’ She spoke quietly. ‘The staff need you right now—not just the patients. They’re bereaved too. Your mum and dad were reliable and loyal to their staff. They knew everything about them. You need to fill that gap.’
Nothing like piling on the pressure. But in a way he needed this. Only Viv knew when he needed a kick up the backside, and she was exactly the person to do it. And it wasn’t just that. It was the fire and determination in her eyes as she said it. It sent endorphins flooding through his system in the weirdest possible way. Was this the way Viv looked in the bedroom?
Where had that thought come from? He gave himself a shake. If it were possible, he’d just shocked even himself.
It was almost like he could feel a gentle smoke settle around him, resting on his shoulders and making him try and clear his thoughts.
Behaving like a kid and shouting, ‘This isn’t fair!’ in between grieving for his parents wouldn’t do any good at all. Mixing it up with weird thoughts about Viv made it even more confusing.
He had to get his head back into the game. He pulled his eyes away from that pendant dangling down her neck and resting on her curves.
He would ask for a temporary suspension from the surgical programme. He would have a meeting with all the staff at the hospital to tell them they all had to try and work together to do business as usual.
He’d get to the job adverts. He’d let Viv take the lead on the midwifery protocols. His head was already forming a list of admin tasks for the new assistant, not least finding some computer software that could help with the rota systems of three separate hospitals.
Viv’s blue eyes met his. He was ready for a whole new onslaught but she seemed to realise that in this case less was more. She pushed the remaining doughnut towards him. ‘Eat up.’ She gave him an easy smile. ‘Somehow I think you’re going to need it.’