Forever Comes in Threes, page 7
“Not good, Boone. I think your company, and the men who work there, should come into the twenty-first century. I’m surprised any women are still willing to work there.”
Perry glanced at her watch. This hadn’t gone well. Not at all. She messaged Julie to key up the closing music and began her sign-off. “That’s all the time we have today, folks. This week’s theme is about finding the time of day when you are most productive, but that’s not necessarily at work. We also need to be productive in our personal lives, too. We strayed off course today when we talked about the work environment, so we’ll move ahead and discuss being productive in our personal lives during Friday’s podcast of Timed for Success. Thanks for listening and participating today.”
Perry shut down the podcast and shoved her rolling office chair back so hard it banged against the wall behind her. “Who the hell is this fucking Dr. Lee? Is she paying people to hijack my podcast? Yes. That’s got to be it. I bet she’s some novice podcaster trying to steal my followers.” Perry smacked her fist into the palm of her other hand. She should have checked her out when that remark came up in Friday’s podcast, but that weird date and the arrival of the dogs had distracted her. “SHA, display today’s schedule for revision.”
This Lee person didn’t know the chain she was yanking had a big dog at the other end. That’s right. Perry Chandler was a big dog in the business world, and if Dr. Lee was running in that pack, Perry would have heard of her before now. All she needed was a little research time to put that puppy in her place.
Chapter Five
Ming paused at the door to the conference room and took a deep breath. Everyone was seated around the long meeting table. Lynda, hired to be their chief of practice operations and administration, was at the far end of the table, while Philip sat at the other end with Margot positioned on his right. Roger Walker, one of the attorneys from the firm that handled legal issues for the practice, sat at Lynda’s right.
Ming, Beth, Philip, Jessica, and John were the original partners in the practice. Margot and Sandy, a pediatrician, worked under contract and were not partners. The partners also contracted Lynda to manage administration and operations so the doctors could spend all their time dealing with patients.
The others were silent as Ming deliberately took her time selecting a chia latte from the fancy coffee and tea machine and watching as it poured and frothed. Then she walked over to stand next to Philip.
“Since I’m apparently the main subject of this meeting, I believe you are in my seat,” she said.
Philip started to protest, but Lynda intervened. “Philip, could you please sit on the other side of Margot?” She shot him a look that warned him not to antagonize Ming.
Philip huffed and seemed to deliberately slosh his coffee on the table before he moved to the other side of Margot. Ming stared at the puddle of coffee threatening to drip into the chair he’d vacated.
Beth frowned. “For God’s sake, Philip. You are such a child. It’s not our fault you can’t fuck around with Margot while your wife is watching from the tennis courts.” She jumped up and grabbed some napkins to mop up the coffee. “Ming. Please have a seat so the rest of us can hear what they have to say, then get on with our day.”
Sandy looked confused, glancing from one partner to the next around the table. “What’s this meeting about?”
Ming sat stiff and forward in her chair, resting her forearms on the table to make her small frame appear as large as possible. “Sorry, Sandy, but you weren’t the only one kept in the dark as several of the partners conspired against me.” She turned her most steely glare on the others. Well, the guilty ones. Lynda looked resigned but didn’t flinch away. Roger shuffled paperwork so he didn’t have to look up at her. John’s eyes were as sympathetic as before, and Jessica stared nervously back, then dropped her gaze to the table, flushing red. Margot and Philip glared back, and Beth looked as irritated as Ming was with the group.
Lynda cleared her throat. “A financial analysis of the past eighteen months has revealed your venture into naturopathy and the popularity of your podcast have had an adverse impact on the other members of this practice.”
Ming objected. “I was careful not to reveal my entire name to the podcast or give my physical location. Before I began airing Finding Natural Balance, I consulted our legal team and followed every one of their recommendations to keep that venture separate from our medical cooperative here.”
Roger cleared his throat. “It appears we underestimated your followers. They tracked you down within weeks of the first installment.”
“They’re camping out in our damned parking lot…overnight because they come here without appointments and demand to see only you. And most of them don’t have money or insurance to pay to see any of us,” Margot said. She stood and began waving her arms as she elaborated. “Philip has called the police twice to clear them out, but, come sunrise, they’re right back. Our paying patients who have legitimate appointments have no place to park and are canceling because so many of your patients are in the waiting room, they have no place to sit if they do find parking nearby.”
Ming was incredulous. She turned on Philip. “You called the police? These people need medical help, not jail time.”
“We don’t have a license to run a goddamned campground in our parking lot. It had to violate a dozen city codes,” Philip said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Nobody was arrested,” Lynda said. “They were simply told they were trespassing on private property, and they’d have to find different accommodations for staying in Fresno overnight.”
“Doesn’t the practice own other properties?” Sandy asked. “Maybe they could stay on one of those.”
“Those are real-estate investments, and I’m not looking to get into the campground or motel business.” Philip’s acid response shut down any suggestions for a solution.
Ming’s phone pinged, and she glanced down at the text from Imani’s paralegal, Sarah, then opened the attachment. The worth of the building they were sitting in and their real-estate portfolio was larger than Ming had anticipated. Much larger. She struggled but managed to suppress her inner shark and keep her poker face intact.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Lynda.” Ming gestured to Philip and Margot. “I don’t have time for their whining. What do you want?”
Lynda glanced at Roger. Her voice was even as she spoke and held no accusation or judgment. “While your popularity and patient list have grown, the other doctors have been seeing fewer new and returning patients. We began calling and emailing the patients who didn’t come back to ask why, and more than half said the practice was too busy. They said they couldn’t find parking and the waiting room was too crowded. They didn’t feel safe, even though we mandate that every one of our patients be vaccinated—unless they have a valid medical reason—and wear masks while on the property.”
“You’re suggesting…what?”
“The majority of the other partners feel you have outgrown the practice and would like to buy you out or find a suitable doctor to purchase your share of the practice. I’ve had Roger run the numbers and prepare an offer from them.”
Roger stood, gathered a handful of papers, and started toward Ming.
“Wait just a darn minute.” Beth’s shout rang out, startling Sandy enough that she nearly fell out of her chair. “I’m a founding partner, and I haven’t voted on anything or seen any offer you intend to make.” She pointed an accusing finger at Lynda. “You know that because you were the one who finally let me in on what you guys were doing…over the telephone…while I was driving in for this meeting.” She turned to John. “You knew about this? I would expect this from Philip and Margot, who I will point out is not a full partner, but not from you, John. I’ve always trusted you.”
John spread his hands out, palms up. “The numbers don’t lie, Beth. We started this co-op as a balanced, holistic approach to patient care. Ming has become so popular, only her patients are being helped. We’re not fulfilling our purpose.”
Jessica ducked her head when Beth turned to her. “I argued against Philip at first, but what John says makes sense.”
Lynda held up her hand, palm out. “You’re not being railroaded. Nothing is official until Ming and all the partners sign it.”
Ming clasped Beth’s forearm. “It’s okay. Let me see what they’re offering.”
Beth sat back in her chair with a sigh, then gave Philip and Margot another scorching glare. Ming scanned the contract Roger placed in front of her, then allowed her inner shark to surface and smile.
“You’re joking, right?” She pulled up the attachment that came with Sarah’s text and directed it to the conference room printer near Lynda’s end of the table. “I was a few minutes late to the meeting because I put in a quick call to an old friend who is my personal attorney. You’re familiar with Imani Harris, aren’t you, Roger?”
Roger tugged at his necktie and nodded. Lynda gave him an inquiring glance, and he scribbled a quick note that he shoved toward her. Ming waited while Lynda read the note and the printer whirred. Lynda looked up quickly, as if Ming were a cobra about to strike. And she was.
“Imani had to be in court today to take down an international company that’s been dumping toxic waste near here, so you’ll probably see her on the national news tonight. Since she’s busy, she asked her best paralegal to check the value of this building and our real-estate-investment portfolio.” Ming pointed to the printer. “Her findings are printing for you now.”
Roger grabbed the document from the printer, and his eyes widened at the figures he read, then handed it to Lynda.
Ming chuckled. “I was shocked, too. But not by those figures.” She waved the contract Roger had given her at them. “I was surprised that you thought you could low-ball me with this proposal. You have sadly underestimated me if you think this ambush would rattle me enough to actually sign this embarrassing offer.” She stood and leaned over the table, propped on her splayed fingertips. “And while you’re double-checking the figures prepared by Imani’s office, my people will also be calculating the worth of my part of the practice. Lynda, please have your assistant email me the patient flow and hours billed by each doctor over the past eighteen months. The partners should have been getting those reports every quarter anyway. Actually, copy that email to all the partners so I know I’ll be getting the same information they are.”
Lynda shook her head. “They aren’t trying to cheat you, Ming.”
Ming held up the contract Roger had given her. “This offer tells me that they are. And this ambush indicates you aren’t above using shady business practices to make certain bosses happy.” She straightened and picked up her briefcase. “Get ready to go into debt or dissolve the entire practice so you don’t have to raid your kids’ college funds to pay me off.” She started for the door but turned back to them. “Until you figure out your next surprise attack, I’ll be seeing patients in my office as usual.”
* * *
“Duh.” Typing Dr. Lee into the search engine was a stupid move. Perry found about a million entries for Dr. Lee, and at least a hundred for Dr. Lee in Fresno. She didn’t even know if this irritating Dr. Lee lived in Fresno. What was the name of that podcast? Perry texted Julie, who she knew would consult the podcast transcript.
Julie: Finding Natural Balance.
Perry: Thank you.
Julie: You’re welcome. Preparing for battle?
Perry: You know it. This Dr. Lee person is an irritating fly I’m about to swat.
Julie texted back a thumbs-up emoji, and Perry typed the podcast name into the Google search engine. Bingo! Dr. Lee’s Finding Natural Balance. She went to the website, but the bio seemed disappointingly vague. Dr. Lee’s degrees and licenses were listed, of course, but included no year of graduation and no photo with any of the information. The website appeared to be recently updated. Had some of the personal information been removed?
In the meantime, she read through the philosophy behind Finding Natural Balance. While she wouldn’t disparage naturopathy altogether, this “feel the earth’s rhythms and follow your own circadian rhythms” sounded like a lot of hoo-hah to her. If clients didn’t find balance in their lives, Dr. Lee could simply say they hadn’t listened well enough. This con game was too easy to see through. She couldn’t wait to roast this fake when the podcast invaded hers again.
* * *
The cityscape gave way to suburbs, then long stretches of farmland and ranches as Ming drove with no destination, just a desperation to leave everything behind. She’d looked at the data Lynda had collected and analyzed. Her popularity had definitely hurt the practice. While she prospered, her friends had suffered. Of course, she had taken the initiative to add naturopathy to her medical skills and to develop her podcast. The other partners could have done the same. Instead, they chose to blame her for their stagnation. Well, not Beth. But the others did. Especially Philip.
Ming sighed. She was so done with the rat race. Oh, she’d managed very well. It seemed like she was nose-to-the-grindstone, trudging along with her friends to develop a holistic medical practice, and then she was suddenly worth millions, an internet phenom, and pursued by patients like she was some type of faith healer. She finally understood how overnight fame undid Hollywood and music stars. That fame came with a price—her friends, time for herself, and almost her sanity. What a joke that her acclaimed podcast focused on finding balance in life when she’d completely lost hers.
She slowed her Mercedes when she saw the sign—FOR SALE, 200 ACRES, 40 CULTIVATED FARMLAND, HOUSE, OUTBUILDINGS, NATURAL WATER SOURCE ON SITE. CALL 559-442-4876.
Pulling over and stopping, she jotted down the contact information and called the number on the sign.
A female voice, likely made husky by years of smoking, answered. “Cutter General Store.”
Ming checked the number she’d punched in against the one listed on the sign. “Uh, hi. I was calling about the two hundred acres for sale.”
“You got the right place, honey. Hold on.”
Ming could hear a cash register beep as items scanned, then a transaction being completed before the woman resumed their phone call.
“You aren’t a real-estate agent, are you, because we’re not interested in signing up anyone to market it for us. And we aren’t going to sell to a developer, no matter how much money they throw at us. The family will only consider a buyer who wants to work the place and be part of the community here.”
Ming brightened. “That’s exactly what I’m looking for. When can I see the property?”
“Ben can show it to you today, if you can get here before dark.”
“I’m parked by the for-sale sign right now.”
“Then I’ll have him out there in fifteen to twenty minutes. He’ll be the guy in a blue Ford crew-cab pickup.”
“I’m in a white Mercedes. Do you mind if I drive in and park at the house?”
“Go right ahead. Since we moved Mee-maw out last month, nobody’s living there.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep an eye out for Ben.”
Ming ended the call and drove slowly up the asphalt drive that was flanked by fields of alfalfa hay waving gently in the wind. The sprawling Spanish-style house needed a few small repairs to the stucco exterior and a fresh coat of paint, but the tiled roof looked fairly new, and the tile on the pergola-shaded terrace was gorgeous. She immediately fell in love.
She was about to check out the old barn behind the house when a blue pickup parked next to her car. A man, who appeared middle-aged and fit, stepped carefully down from the truck, pausing long enough for her to see his face before he slipped a mask over his mouth and nose.
“You called about the seeing the property?”
“Yes.” Ming likewise gave him a look at her face before bringing her mask up to cover part of it. He limped slightly as he approached once her mask was in place, and she held out her hand. “Ming Lee. I already love the outside of the house, but I have a lot of questions.”
He took her offered hand in his callused one, then offered her a squirt of hand sanitizer she gratefully accepted. “Ben Cutter. I reckon Hattie already told you we won’t sell to a developer or sign with any real-estate people.”
Ming nodded. “She did, and I respect that. I’m a physician and also a licensed naturopath.”
He nodded. “Just so you know, our town is ninety percent vaccinated. The ten percent not vaccinated are children too young to qualify.”
“That’s reassuring because I’m tired of all the political interference in health matters like vaccinations, mask-wearing, and a woman’s right to make her own decisions about her body. I’m looking for a property where I can find a better balance in my life. I want to see patients part-time, not seventy hours a week. And I want enough land to explore growing my own medicinal plants.”
“You one of those marijuana farmers?”
“I might grow a little cannabis after I get the proper license, but only for medical purposes. I’ll eventually market some of the plants I grow, I’m sure, on a very small scale. Nothing bigger than a pickup truck pulling a livestock trailer would be coming or going from here.”
He grimaced slightly when he lifted his foot to prop it on the step. “I’m going to save us some time by telling you up front what stops people from buying this property.”
“I’d like that,” Ming said.
“Like Hattie told you, we won’t sell to anyone who plans to cut the farm into pieces for resale or to put a hundred houses on. This land has been in our family almost a hundred and fifty years, since my great-great-grandfather filed his claim and began farming it. This is a rural community, and the folks here want to keep it that way. So, the family is insisting that the buyer also sign an agreement that the land will not be resold or developed for any purpose other than farming for the next fifty years.”
