Charlotte's not a heavy drinker - she enjoys a martini or two from time to time, and can appreciate a good seven-and-seven or gin and tonic - but growin' up with an alcoholic has made her wary of excess in that particular area, and bein' pregnant has forced her into complete sobriety. Which is a shame, because right now, on this phone call, she'd love nothing more than to be poundin' 'em back.
She's just informed William White that she's had yet another well-paid, promising doctor turn in his resignation under her watch. All in all, the practice is doing alright, but she can't keep losin' doctors like this, and she knows it.
"Well, I am sorry to hear that, Dr. King. He was great for the practice. What reason did he give for resigning?"
"Family issues. It turns out sharin' space with little sister wasn't, uh… all it was cracked up to be," she tells William, trying to keep her voice professional when inside she's seething. At least Lockhart left chasin' money — that she can respect — she but she just lost Archer Montgomery because he'd been chasin' tail, and wanted out before he got caught up in the drama he'd set in motion. "He said he thought it strained their relationship, and he'd be better off back on the East Coast."
"That's a shame. I do hope you'll be finding a replacement for him very soon."
"I'm already lookin' into it," she assures. As polite as William White is being, Charlotte knows the translation: this turnover rate is unacceptable, and she needs to find someone who will bring in good money and stick around. She wishes Archer was here so she could wring his smug, arrogant, philandering neck. Which is a shame, because she actually liked him, quite a lot. He had a sense of humor she could appreciate, a work ethic she liked even more, and he flirted shamelessly with her, which maybe shouldn't be a mark in the plus column, but when you're havin' a baby with a man who makes you want to tear your hair out half the time, sometimes it's nice to know there are other guys out there who'd be willing to take you for a spin - even if you'd never take them up on it. Plus, he was in on her little secret, and had made a habit of sneakin' her pastries from the breakfast bar, figuring a grown man scarfing down three croissants raised fewer red flags than a svelte, figure-watching blonde doing the same.
And of course that little secret is the other reason she's on this phone call - and the other reason she's sweatin' metaphorical bullets. She's almost 15 weeks pregnant now, and there's no hiding it. There's an obvious curve to her belly; she's not fooling anyone anymore. She can't delay this phone call any longer — and now, thanks to her complications, it's going to be an even worse conversation than she had initially imagined.
"There's something else I'd like to discuss with you, if you have a few more minutes," she tells him, knowing his schedule is tight — he's in New York now, flying to Europe late tonight, where he'll be for the next two months. It has to be now; she's waited as long as she possibly can.
"Of course."
"I, um… Well, I…" Great. Just great. Not only does she have to tell him this, but she apparently has to sound like a bumbling idiot while she does. Stupid. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and just spits it out: "I'm pregnant. About 15 weeks. I know when I took the job I said I had no plans to start a family in the next three years, and I meant it - I didn't - this isn't somethin' I saw comin'."
"I see," William tells her evenly. She can't read him, and she's not sure if she should be mortified that she just told her boss she's havin' a surprise baby or if it was a good, calculated move to save the ass of someone who signed a no-family clause when she took the job.
"I assure you it's not hamperin' my ability to do my job, and my intention was to work right up until delivery, and then take the minimum maternity leave, but… there are some complications. And I may need to take an earlier leave, depending on how things progress."
"I'm sorry to hear that," William tells her, and this time she thinks he means it, which is both nice and a little disconcerting. "Obviously, this isn't an ideal situation, for the practice, nor, it sounds, for you. And while we obviously can't — and won't — let you go simply on the basis of you being pregnant, Pacific Wellcare is a new venture, and it won't be helped by an extended length of time as a rudder-less ship."
"I understand," she tells him, a sinking feeling growing in her stomach. He's wrong, actually - they can fire her, for breach of contract, and they both know that. He's being polite, again, and it's killing her. "But I assure you, I can continue to do this job - I will do everything in my power to continue to guide this practice, even if I'm on leave."
"I appreciate your commitment to the job," he says, and Charlotte can already hear the but that's coming. "However, it's important to the company to have someone there in the office, so if you do end up needing an extended leave, we may have to consider finding a replacement for you - at least, for the length of your absence. You understand, of course."
"Yes," she confirms, trying for all the world not to sound as wretched as she feels. "Of course."
"I'm sorry, Charlotte - I have another call coming in that I have to take. Congratulations on your big news."
Charlotte almost laughs — congratulations? Really? He's just told her that he might have to give her job away, and now he's congratulating her? The absurdity of it is laughably painful. But she's a professional, damnit, so all she says is, "Thank you. Have a safe flight."
They say their goodbyes, and she slumps back in her chair, blows out a breath and blinks back the tears threatening to gather in her eyes. Despite all the calm, even tone, that phone call was a damned disaster. In one fell swoop, she managed to tell her employer that she lost another doctor and hand him an excuse to fire her for it. She might as well have written her own walking papers.
Look on the bright side, she tells herself, At least this day can't get much worse.
And then her phone buzzes, and she picks it up to find a text message from Cooper, letting her know he's having dinner with Violet tonight and will probably crash there for the night.
Her heart twists sharply.
"Look at that," she mutters under her breath. "I was wrong."
